The Coiled Sentinel

A brass bookend shaped like a crouching griffin dared to turn its hollow gaze away from the hallway. I planted the golden base of my serpent staff firmly into the dark grain to command its flank. Reaching forward with my clawed right hand, I seized an abandoned metal binder clip and wedged its tempered steel prongs under the griffin's raised paw. With deliberate, ruthless tension, the brass beast shifted an inch, its blank stare now aligning directly with the dark doorway. No sentry in this hall slumbers without watching for my coming.