“Oh, I want to hear!” Fassn exclaims, pushing past Cang. He puts his filthy hands against the cool stone, runs his palms along the finely-worked geometry of the dark frame.
Cang impolitely clears his throat and Fassn takes no notice. “What’s it say?” he asks.
“I believe the door was due to explain what lies beyond its threshold,” Cang says.
“Talking, what do you mean?” Shyan asks. “This is a talking door?”
Suddenly Cang freezes as the door addresses him once more. “There are riches within, Cang. Vast, liquid riches.”
Cang pales slightly, then, shaking off his discomfort, says, “Well, no sense in dawdling. Let us open this portal, forthwith.” The mushrooms’ faint green glow lights his face up eerily.
Logan Bright — Works 