I stared at the lock. For a few seconds, I didn't move and the door refused to open.
The door was right in front of me, hidden behind the bookshelf as though someone had gone out of their way to make sure nobody would notice it. I reached for the handle again and tried turning it.
It still didn't open, I pulled harder and harder but it didn't open. “Damn it,” I whispered. I looked at the lock more closely. It wasn't old or damaged. If anything, it looked newer than the door itself, which made me wonder why a forgotten room in the east wing needed a lock that looked like it had been replaced recently.
I ran my fingers over the metal, it was cold and solid, whoever had locked this room had done it from the outside. I stepped back and stared at the door. What was inside? My mind immediatel
