The small red door was locked, a heavy iron bolt sealing it shut. Nikos examined the lock, then pulled the glowing crimson box from his pocket. He held it up, and the focused beam of red light intensified, now centered precisely on the rusted keyhole. As the light hit the metal, the lock didn't simply click open; the iron bolt began to glow a fiery orange, then melted away entirely, dripping to the ground as harmless slag.
The red door creaked inward, revealing a darkness so deep it seemed to absorb the light from the outside world. A faint, earthy smell drifted out. Nikos paused, taking a deep breath, the red of his hoodie a bright splash of courage against the gloom. He didn't hesitate for long; the thrill of the unknown was too strong. He stepped inside.
The interior was a vast, empty warehouse floor, lit only by thin shafts of moonlight piercing the grimy windows high above. It was silent, except for the distant drip of water. As his eyes adjusted, Nikos noticed something strange: chalk drawings covered the floor—a sprawling, intricate map of interlocking symbols, all drawn in various shades of red chalk. There were geometric shapes, cryptic runes, and what looked like constellations.
He realized the chalk map led to a single point in the center of the room, where a pedestal stood. On top of the pedestal lay a small, worn leather journal, bound in a deep maroon. The box in his pocket pulsed with renewed energy. Nikos walked toward the center, the red flame symbol on his box humming softly. He felt a powerful connection to this place, to this journal. He knew, instinctively, that the secrets he was looking for weren't just in the building—they were in that book.