Wayfarer finds the crack in the wall and jams the scroll back into its secretive spot. He lifts the torch from its notch, but does not walk away. Instead, he gives his full attention to the light-consuming wall/door that stretches wide and long in front of him.

He holds out his free hand, letting his open palm hover less than an inch from the blackness. Suddenly a dark tendril sprouts out of the doorway. It quickly splinters into several yarn-like strings that stretch out and wrap themselves around his extended fingers. Wayfarer gasps in excitement, watching in fascination as the threads slither in and between and around his hand.