• Alone, the hall echoed silenced. A gray hooded figure, glided past the many artworks. Making quick work of the halls, he approaches The Door. Not a door, but The Door. A gilded name plate is present on The Door. It says in an ancient language roughly "Beware, time is not...." the rest has been scratched beyond recognition. The hooded figure reaches for the door knob, carefully twisting making sure it emits no sound; he enters. The door slams, but its cry echoes not. Melting into the walls, the door vanishes. Until, another night.