A hell of his making
The monsters led Landon into a dark door. The door existed in the garden with no house behind it. It was just a door, there were markings on the door.
"Who builds a door and not a house?" Landon questioned. He looked at the writings on the door and funny enough he could read it. "The prison of one's making," he read on the door.
He frowned from reading it. For one the language was not his home language and the fact that he could read it made him shiver.
The door was made of shimmering diamonds. It was so beautiful and inviting, but after biting at the trap of the golden door, he was not so foolish as to believe that anything laid behind those doors.
"Walk through the door," the weird monsters said to him. Landon stood unmoving at the door, the door was opened for him and left so that he could walk in.