The Fly King vanished as Geralt dismissed the summon.
Geralt kept walking until he reached the wooden door.
The door was made of white hardwood, one of the hardest woods in the world. Used mainly for railroad ties and large buildings, it was known as the "Axe Terminator."
A thick iron chain, two fingers wide, was wrapped around the handle. As Megan had said, an old-fashioned U-shaped padlock hung from it. Rust had clogged the keyhole; even a key would not have opened it.
Geralt opened his bag and took out a tightly wrapped box the size of his palm. It held a thermite strip.
He wrapped the thermite strip around the padlock's shackle.
He signaled for the other two to look away.
Geralt lit the fuse with a lighter, then hurried back to a safe distance.
Hiss—
The thermite strip burned fiercely, throwing off a blinding white light. The sudden burst of heat melted straight through the shackle.
Clang! The padlock hit the floor.
As Geralt unwound and pulled free the chain, he gave them one final warning. "We don't know what's behind this door. It might be dangerous, or it might not. Are you sure you want to come in with me? I'll say this now: I might not be able to keep you safe."
Luke did not hesitate. "I've been searching all these years. I've never been this close to the truth, and I'm not turning back now."
"Me too."
Megan's answer was simple, but her tone was just as firm.
She was no fool. As events unfolded, more questions had piled up. Why had her grandfather told her not to sell the house and insisted that she stay here for a while every year?
Megan wanted to learn the truth too.
For herself.
Geralt wished the