The hatch had no handhold, for it was not meant to be opened. It was solid iron, rivets of some other metal driven through it. And yet, the metal was warm to the touch. It was oddly easy to open, given the small warping in the frame it sat in. Wood grown too cold and shrinking, or perhaps too warm and [i]expanding.[/i]

It flew open when Annika pulled. The golden light spilled up and out. The warmth of it had a foreign quality to it, this house was [i]always[/i] warm. Its master always made sure it was comfortable for his daughter to live in, but it was an ominous sort of warmth. There was always the implication of a mystery, and that distinct trace of tenebrous sorcery to it. This warmth was nothing to hide, nothing [i]dark[/i] about it. quite the opposite, in fact. 

A book floated up out of the ground. It looked thin, and its covers resembled golden velvet. It looked to be in near perfect condition, even the silver trim along the edges and the spine lacked a touch of tarnish. 

On its cover was a wreath of olive branches in a circle. And in the middle, a sword with a basket hilt, pointing downwards.

The gloom of the house seemed to be pushed back by the light.