Simplicity

In the back of your mind, your subconscious, slowly but surely small, but wily tendrils that are black as night stalk upon a bight, warm, white-yellow orb in the middle of a dark plain. The tendrils wrap around the orb and squeeze like a vice, and when the vice grows tighter the light from the orb dims.

*Reality*

You take a slight scoff when you hear the wails and even screams of the woman from before. But you think better of it and decide it is not of your concern, without a second thought you continue towards the inscribed door. The skeleton key glows a tint of red without you noticing.