The house was magnificent. There were two floors, not including the cellar, and plenty of rooms. Thick layers of dust covered almost all of the furniture, a few select pieces showed signs of regular use. Up on the second floor there was a locked door. It was in front of this door that Brian stood, struggling to break in. The door was solid, barely budging when Brian started trying to kick it in. There has to be a way in. And what's on the other side of the door?
Brian heard his sister return, calling his name. He didn't respond, he just stood there trying to think of a way in. He had spent several minutes trying to find a key, but there didn't appear to be one. Sighing, he dropped to the floor, eyes on the door. His thirst was coming back.