The track isn’t rusted, but it certainly isn’t maintained either. And it’s impossibly heavy.
Initially, it doesn’t budge at all.
Did he install this? Can only someone with his supernatural strength operate it?
Sweat beads on my forehead. I’m so much smaller in comparison. Even with my restored body and renewed muscle tone, I’m nothing compared to his raw power.
Still, I strain with all my might, even bracing a foot against the opposite wall for leverage.
Nothing.
I’m about to surrender.
There’s actually relief in my chest that I won’t be able to solve this mystery after all... when suddenly the damn bar shifts and begins sliding along what feels like an ancient groove.
Dammit.
I plant my other foot against the wall and grunt as I continue pushing.
The bar travels completely free, clearing the door mechanism.
I’m soaked in sweat now, and two bars remain.
I drop back to the floor once it’s clear, noting how my improvised torch flickers as it burns lower.
Time is running short if I want to see this through.
It’s probably that urgency rather than sound judgment that has me grabbing the second crossbar and repeating the process.
The entire time, I’m praying this one will jam and prevent me from opening this door.
But this one moves much more easily. I only need one foot braced for leverage.
The third moves easier still.
Perspiration stings my eyes by the time all barriers are removed.
All that remains is opening the door and confronting whatever lies beyond.
What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time, Hannah?
I wipe my forehead impatiently.
In for a penny, in for a pound? I need to know if there are other former consorts imprisoned down here. I need to discover if this is my eventual fate.
I.
Need.
The truth.
So I grasp the door’s handle.
And pull.
The hinges protest with a metallic shriek that echoes through the stairwell like a banshee’s wail. For a heart-stopping moment, I’m certain the sound will carry throughout the entire castle, alerting him to my presence here.
But the door swings open.
