Jacques closed the door quietly and the room was instantly plunged into darkness. It smelled musty and old, but somehow familiar.

He could hear Gabrielle’s disembodied voice mumbling somewhere to his right.

“I made this?” he asked, surprised.

“That’s right,” Gabrielle said, her voiced high and strained. “This is what you pictured in your mind when you turned the key.”

But Jacques couldn’t remember picturing a room plunged into total darkness. And there was something familiar about this place, although couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly, it was. Something about the coldness of it, and that musty, old smell…

“I think I’ve been here before…” Jacques said tentatively.

“That’s impossible,” Gabrielle answered, but her voice sounded tense and scared. “Where’s the door?”

The two began a search in the dark, hands against the cold stone walls, moving in opposite directions around the room. But when they met in the middle, they could only come to one conclusion:

The door was gone.