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The warehouse door groaned as Elara pushed it open, her flashlight cutting through decades of dust. Three days ago, her grandmother had died. Two days ago, she'd found the key taped beneath a loose floorboard. Yesterday, she'd traced the address scrawled on the envelope that held it.
Now she stood in the abandoned shipping yard, wondering if she'd made a terrible mistake.
The flashlight beam caught something metallic in the corner—a steel door, pristine despite the decay around it. Her grandmother's key fit perfectly. The lock clicked. The door swung inward on silent hinges.