Rol and his two subordinates stepped into the gate and they were teleported inside the dungeon.
They found themselves standing on a road.
Rol had entered gates before. He had the specific physical memory of it. The moment of absolute spatial ambiguity that lasted less than a second and still managed to be deeply unpleasant every time.
But it was especially weird with Spot dungeons, because it happened twice.
He widened his stance before his feet found the stone and was upright before Hues had finished blinking and before Shigo had finished the exhale he always did on entry, the one he claimed was a breathing technique from old times.
The road stretched behind them into darkness.
And ahead of them, to the door.
Rol looked at it.
The word large did not survive contact with the actual object. It was iron, and it was old, and several times his height, its surface was cold as ice. Five symbols were inlaid inside it at eye-level, vertical and each one distinct.
