Jacob woke with a start.

Only to find himself collapsed next to a now roaring furnace. Curiously, the furnace appeared full of fuel now even though the chair had filled it to less than half of its capacity beforehand.

His best guess was that now that he had solved the 'puzzle,' the area was complete, and therefore the fire was restored to its original splendour.

After all, if he had to consistently break furniture and relight the furnace so that the mansion stayed warm, it would make navigating the haunted hellhole a majorly arduous task.

Slowly propping himself up, he realised that he was no longer frozen and, belatedly, realised that he was capable of opening his eyes once again as he had done instinctively upon regaining consciousness.

He looked around the room and found that the temperature had returned to a warm and comfortable level.

In addition, the dampness that was present on all the walls and in the air was back in, rather than its icy counterpart.

After getting up, he quickly put on his sweatpants which he had wriggled out of, and inspected his body.

The results were more or less comforting.

He was still adorned with various bruises from his initial escape from darkness. But added to that was a lack of finger and toenails, as they appeared to have been ripped off due to the cold and his attempts to move despite it.

This, coupled with general exhaustion, painted a reasonably depressing but more or less functional picture of Jacob's health.

On the plus side, none of his fingers, toes, or other extremities appeared to have suffered any additional damage from the cold.

Leaving him with all his digits intact, and his sense of touch fully functioning, suck it frostbite.

Of course, the dull ache from the ends of his fingers and his feet reminded him of his wounds, but at least the cold had dulled his senses enough that he didn't feel his nails come off.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

After catching his breath for a moment, he made a distressing discovery.

His lantern, his only portable source of light, was broken.

Checking it from all angles and attempting to light it again revealed the extent of the damage, which was neither the worst nor the best news he could have gotten.

On the upside, the damage was limited to a large hole in the lantern's glass casing, meaning that the actual flame and appropriate mechanism still worked.

On the downside, with the glass broken, even a slight breeze from the right angle could easily snuff out his only light source.

Another annoying realisation was that the fire poker and lighter from the puzzle were nowhere to be found.

Reattaching the lantern to his waist, he made his way toward his original objective.

The fuse box.

Trudging over to the box, he once again attempted to prize the front end from the back, only to find it came away easily.

Slightly off balance due to using more force than necessary, he peered into the now open box.

A lightning symbol was displayed in bright red paint, and directly above it was a similarly red handle connected to the wall via 2 long and thin metal plates.

A typical breaker switch.

Slightly stupefied by the simplicity of the setup, he pulled the switch into the downwards position and was soon basked in the glow of a now-lit overhead hanging lightbulb.

He did wonder why that bulb was on in the first place if there was no power. His only explanation was that when the generator was turned of it kept a small amount of emergency power going to this room so that people could still see down here.

'Well, there's only one thing left to do.' He thought as he turned and made his way up the cobblestone staircase.

He noted that the chair he had used to prop the door into place was back where he had left it against the now-open door. 'Was the door being closed an illusion? Maybe I was transported to an alternate area when I reached the bottom of the stairs? I don't have any real way to tell, so I'll make a mental note' Jacob decided.

Leaving the boiler room, Jacob focused solely on the archway that was now clear of any darkness. More specifically, on the writing that adorned that populated the interior of the archway.

"Three hands break the seal, The unforgiving, the inspired, and the fake" he read out loud as he studied the archway.

Apart from this text, the wall inhabiting the archway was barren. No doorknob, magical-looking apparatus, or anything of interest graced its surface.

'Three hands, the unforgiving, the inspired, and the fake…? Can't think of anything off the top of my head, but if this place follows any kind of game logic, then this should be what prompts me to explore the rest of this place.' He thought to himself as he continued to stare at the archway.

Deciding there was nothing else to find in this area, he reluctantly headed for the mansion foyer.