In the far eastern wing of the Castlekeep, tucked away among the high rafters is a small, crowded room like any other on the floor. Crates and boxes are stacked in untidy rows, left for centuries and holding treasures known only to the servant ghosts. Dust lies over surfaces like a thin powder, pristine in its evenness and coverage except for the two sets of paw prints leading from the iron-bound door to the far wall. One is distinctly dragon in its placement of pads and talons, but the other is slightly larger and bearing resemblance to an enormous dog.
Across the chipped and peeling plaster of one wall, cracked in a section from floor to ceiling, a thin line appears, etching slowly from right to left. Its followed by a second moving line, turning ninety degrees to beeline straight for the floor. Others appear one after another, each glowing brighter than the last and the gaps are slowly filled until a large gate is sketched across the once em