The top of the door was arched, and the lines simple, but it looked as though someone had dipped a quill with gold faerie dust and sketched a door into the air. Some of the aching in her heart eased, and her breaths didn’t pinch so tight in her chest. If only she knew how to make doors in the real world.
“You’ve forgotten the doorknob,” Lyra whispered, as if the slightest sound could dissolve the magic.
Taking a deep breath, and keeping her eyes open this time, Gwyn held out her hand and brushed her longest finger against the center of the door.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the shimmerings of a knob faded into view.