Unlike the deep and cold darkness outside, upon stepping through the wooden door, Lebius felt a warmth from inside out. When his vision cleared, he found himself standing in a corridor, with the slowly closing wooden door behind him.
The world behind the door was not some perilous Hell, but a sun-filled inn, familiar to Lebius, just as he remembered.
The inn's front desk was unoccupied, only a record player was there, the vinyl spinning, playing that song which never ceased.
Facing the front desk was the inn's main door, a set of glass doors. Lebius couldn't see the outside world, only the infinite, cozy daylight that streamed through the door, evenly washing over him, dispelling the chill.
"Mother! Warn your child, do not repeat my mistakes."
In the empty inn, this song played; it wasn't loud, rather it echoed faintly, whispering in his ear.
