At the end of the hallway, I found a heavy trapdoor set in the floor. I froze. My heart started beating faster. The door didn’t match the castle’s décor. It wasn’t lined up exactly right with the stones. It was old and made of heavy wood. And there were scorch marks on it. Because it was my door. My door, mine, from my old apartment; the door to my subbasement lab. It still had the ring in it that I used to pull it up. And it had an additional bar on it that hadn’t been there before.
