The High Ridge

A raised timber beam barred the passage toward the exterior door. I stopped and held still, measuring its height against my chest. No tremor came from the wood. I leaned forward, pressing my shoulder straight against the vertical face until a deep, muted knock echoed through the floorboards. Steadying my stance, I drove my weight upward, levering both feet onto the polished edge. The barrier held firm under my tread. Below me, the lower stone floor of the entranceway lay open.