How Not to Open A Door
“A door is not an invitation. It is a suggestion. Some suggestions are harmless. Others eat you.”
If you intend to last longer than your first evening in the Last Home, you would do well to learn the difference between the doors you may open and the doors you must not.
The Nature of Doors
Most of the time, a door in the Last Home is exactly what it appears to be. The door to the library is always the door to the library. The kitchen can always be found through the same arch. The guest wings, however inconsistent in their geometry, still recognise their own thresholds.
You should not take this as reassurance. Some doors are less polite. From the inside they appear ordinary—sturdy wood, brass handle, nothing unusual. Beyond, anything may lie. A guest room. A cellar. A battlefield. A world you are not prepared for.
Occasionally the Inn’s sense of humour places doors where no door should be. A cupboard that opens onto a forest. A trapdoor that appeared in a perfectly solid floor. A window frame that now swings on hinges. One especially unhelpful specimen once opened horizontally across the ceiling above the taproom. No one remembers that fondly.
You may assume a door is safe until it proves otherwise. Most patrons make that assumption only once.
Where They Lead
Inward-facing doors are the kindest. They lead deeper into the Inn’s shifting architecture. These are safe enough, provided you do not start counting landings on the stairwell.
Outward-facing doors are another matter. Some open onto the gardens or the surrounding village. Others ignore geography entirely, connecting to deserts, ruins, oceans, or places best left unnamed. A few are one-way. You will not know which until you attempt the return.
Do not attempt the return lightly.
Keys and Conditions
You may find that some doors will not open for you. Do not assume this is a fault. Every door has its logic, though it seldom makes sense to mortals.
A key might be a trinket carried from another world, a phrase spoken at the right moment, a coin turned three times, or the willingness to step through only at dusk. The condition always ties back to the world beyond the door.
If you cannot state clearly where you mean to go, do not touch the handle. Wandering aimlessly through the Inn’s doors is not exploration. It is volunteering.
Who (and What) Comes Through
Do not assume all traffic is in your control. People sometimes arrive uninvited, deposited into the taproom mid-sentence. Worse, things arrive instead.
The Inn, especially when bored, has been known to let creatures wander in. Size is no obstacle. Beings expand as they emerge, fitting themselves through frames far too small. This does not harm the traveller, but it does tend to ruin the furniture.
A full-grown dragon once squeezed sideways through a window, and the rafters have yet to recover. On another occasion, Nibbles, the Inn’s elephant-sized hamster, chose to appear through a trapdoor no larger than a breadbox. It was comical until the adjoining wall collapsed.
If you hear something coming through, stand well back.
Why They Appear
Doors do not answer to your commands. They open when the Inn wishes, or when the Pattern permits. Stray thoughts and idle wishes from patrons have been known to influence them. The One in the Backroom is particularly dangerous in this respect; his whims and fancies have tilted entire thresholds in directions no one intended.
Every door is the Inn’s humour given form. If that does not concern you, you are not paying attention.
The Hearthstone Solution
If the Inn likes you, it may grant you a hearthstone. This will bring you back even if the door you left through no longer exists. Without one, you are gambling against the Inn’s sense of humour.
The odds are not in your favour.
Final Thoughts
A door is never just a door. It is a choice, a test, and a joke at your expense. The Inn will open the way when it wishes and close it just as easily.
If you are sensible, you will treat every door with suspicion. If you are foolish, you will treat them like furniture. You may choose which group you belong to.
At A Glance
For the inattentive, the lazy, and anyone now staring at a handle they probably should not have touched.
What Most Doors Are
Perfectly ordinary. The library remains the library. The kitchen is where it ought to be. Do not look so surprised.
What Some Doors Are
Traps. Pranks. Shortcuts into places you cannot survive. If you think all doors are the same, you are already lost.
When They Refuse to Open
That is not an invitation to push harder. Keys exist, but they are not yours to choose. Walk away.
Who Uses Them
Not just you. People arrive through them uninvited. So do things. If you hear scratching, stand well back.
What Might Save You
A hearthstone, if the Inn likes you. If not, then I recommend prayer.
Final Note
If you cannot state clearly where you mean to go, you have no business opening the door.
“Your continued reading is more valuable than coin. However, the author assures me that Ko-Fi support assists in ‘keeping the kettle on.’ I am told this is a metaphor. I remain unconvinced.” — Seraphis Nightvale Ko-Fi: #madmooncrow
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