With an easy, well-oiled click, the door came open. It was almost mockingly easy. "Maybe I should have tried opening the door first before I tried tearing it down," Oliver said to himself lightly. It felt as if humour was necessary down here, with how oppressive the atmosphere was.
Into the next chamber, Oliver allowed himself, though he did so with even more caution than before, for unlike everywhere else he had been, this place was already well lit, with small fires burning in raised braziers just like the ones he had seen outside the door.
A sizeable room, a relief from the corridor. A perfect circle, with a stone altar in the middle. Rings of white and black tiles decorated the floor. They switched, and turned themselves, revealing a number of different patterns. A great large hexagon when looked at entirely from above. Then lots of little stars, when one looked at the way individual tiles came together in different sections.
