As John Anderson stepped through the red door, he was immediately enveloped in an atmosphere that seemed to defy the very dimensions of his great-grandfather’s house. The room he entered was a study, but unlike any study he had ever seen. It was as if he had stepped into a different realm, a space untethered from the modest proportions of the old brick house.
The air was rich with the sophisticated scent of vanilla and expensive tobacco, creating an ambiance that was at once cozy and opulent. It was a smell that evoked images of old-world libraries and gentlemen's clubs from a bygone era. It was both comforting and alien to John, who had never been one for such luxuries.
The room was larger than what could reasonably fit into the basement of his family home. It was as if the space expanded beyond the physical constraints of the outside world. The walls were lined with bookshelves, crafted from what appeared to be mahogany. Each shelf was filled with leather-bound books, their spines rich with gold lettering, titles from classics to obscure texts in languages John couldn't recognize. Occasionally, there were more obscure things too: scrolls, vellum, parchment, and even a clay tablet or two could be seen around the corners of the room -- yet, he never saw such objects in his childhood. Was his Grandfather a secret collector? An enthusiast? A reclusive, secret millionaire? At the moment, there were definitely more questions than answers...
As John walked upon the floor, he noted it to be a mosaic of intricate parquet, the wood polished to a high shine, reflecting the soft glow of the brass wall sconces that adorned the walls, with light coming from expensive looking fixtures in the ceiling (when did he turn on the lights?). The entire room radiated a warmth and richness that spoke of careful craftsmanship and an eye for detail.
In the center of the room stood a large and heavy desk, carved from rosewood -- the kind that may adorn an office of a Fortune 500 CEO or the kind of Old Money gentleman to whom money is only a number. The desk's surface was smooth and mostly uncluttered, save for a few items that immediately caught John's attention. There was a thick tome, its cover embossed with intricate designs and what seemed like ancient script. Beside it lay a piece of parchment, inscribed with an unfamiliar script. And then there was the ring - a simple yet elegant piece of jewelry, made of either polished silver or platinum, its band inscribed with symbols that seemed to shimmer in the soft light.
John approached the desk slowly, the drunken haze being slowly lifted by an injection of adrenaline; his footsteps muted on the plush oriental-looking rug that lay beneath it. He felt a sense of reverence as he reached out to touch the tome. It was as if he was about to uncover secrets that had been waiting for him, secrets that belonged to another world, another life.
The parchment felt old and delicate under his fingers. The script was in no language John recognized, yet it seemed to resonate with him, as if it was speaking directly to his soul. He then picked up the ring, its weight surprising in his hand. The metal was cool to the touch, and as he examined it, he noticed that the symbols were not just etched into the surface but seemed to be a part of the metal itself, glowing with an inner light. Was he really still in the basement of his great-grandfather's house? Was all of this some elaborate prank? A hallucination? A fever dream conjured by his drunk mind?
As John tentatively slid the silver ring onto his finger, a subtle yet profound change swept through the room. The arcane script on the parchment, once indecipherable and alien, transformed fluidly into English. It was as if the ring acted as a key, unlocking a door to understanding that had previously been closed to him. He stared in disbelief as the words of his great grandfather revealed themselves, unfolding a tale more incredible and far-fetched than anything he could have imagined.
---
My Dearest Progeny,
If you are reading this, then the time has come for the truths of our lineage to be revealed. I'm sure that, in your heart, you already know the truth: I am not of this Earth. I was the thirteenth and youngest son of a powerful family from far, far beyond the confines of your local multiverse. Our family, part of a grand dynasty, once controlled the commerce of countless star systems across myriad universes.
The secret of our power, and indeed the foundation of our great Dynasty, lay in an artifact found by our Great Ancestor, Zhaolong Xianyu -- a man of humble beginnings from a nearly forgotten epoch. Countless eons ago, before this Earth's humans were even capable of walking on two legs, Zhaolong, a low-ranking officer in an empire whose name is long lost to time, was once sent on a scouting mission to a certain ancient ruin. There, a tragedy befell his scouting team, leaving him the sole survivor amidst strange rooms and untold horrors, lurking in the dark. In those ruins, he stumbled upon a powerful artifact, a whispering, veiled stone archway of unknown rank extending far beyond even the God level. Upon touching this archway with his bloodied hand, the Artifact vanished, binding itself to his soul and bloodline. This Great Door, as we eventually came to call it, had an ability that was simple, and yet staggering in its scope. The artifact bestowed upon Zhaolong the absolute control over all doorways... and when I say "absolute," I mean just that. With merely a thought, Zhaolong could control to where -- or to when -- anything that could be interpreted as a doorway led: whether to a destination thousands of miles away, another world, a different time, or even to realms considered fictional or imaginary in your understanding, all of this and more was now within reach. The control wasn't limited in any way by time -- a portal to any destination could be left active indefinitely, to where even powerless mortals could use it at will. It could be programmed selectively, to allow some people or objects entry while prohibiting others. Nor was the control limited to a single door -- rather, the number of "doors" subject to the artifact's control was -- as far as we could tell -- limited only by the imagination of the controller. In fact, at the height of out power, the Xianyu clan controlled untold billions of such doorways, and we have never been able to find the upper limit. (The tome before you, bound in the hide of interstellar beasts and inscribed by the hands of our ancestors, is a compendium of their collective wisdom in wielding the Great Door. And the ring, an Emissary-level artifact of the finest imperial craftsmanship, is both a tool and a shield for those who walk between worlds. Please study the tome as soon as possible, so that you may know learn how to use both to their maximum ability.)
When our Ancestor returned to his superiors in the imperial legion, his new ability shocked their leadership to the core. Initially, they attempted to entice or extract the artifact from him -- but without success. Even when he attempted to give away his control in exchange for promotions and various other merits, such endeavor proved impossible. Recognizing Zhaolong's immense value, he -- and our family -- became exalted within the Empire. For decades, we have enjoyed unparalleled wealth and political power. Yet, this only sowed seeds of jealousy and hatred. The imperial young master, the Crown Prince, could not abide others having the power represented by the Great Door. He eventually betrayed and murdered, in the hopes that, with Zhaolong's death, the Empire could keep the benefits of existing Doorways while denying our clan the control over them.
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The Empire, and the Crown Prince, were wrong.
The Great Door was already bound to the collective souls of our entire bloodline through chains much stronger than anything known before or since. With the senior's death, control simply passed to the eldest offspring, seamlessly binding to each successive generation. Only the complete destruction of the Xianyu clan might have succeeded in stopping the transfer... but the Empire underestimated us. The decades of prominence gained our family thousands of hidden doorways and hidden resources that were deep enough to buy and sell the entire imperial treasury several times over.
Our family ascended to power, wrecked bloody vengeance upon the Prince, and erased the very name of the imperial family from existence. The subsequent Eons saw the establishment of the most successful, wealthiest, and most powerful dynasty in recorded history. Our Xianyu clan grew powerful in ways that transcend the common understanding of wealth and influence. We became merchants not of mere goods, but of very realities, traders with an absolute monopoly on the exotic and, at times, even the impossible. Our caravans traversed not mere roads of dirt and cobblestone but the very seams of the multiverse.
Imagine, if you will, realms where the skies are painted with the shimmering lights of nebulas, where the seas sing with the voices of ancient creatures, and where sentient cities are crafted from the dreams of sleeping deities. These and more were the playgrounds of the Xianyu. The resources and knowledge we had access to were unmatched. The luxuries we indulged in were as diverse as the worlds we touched. From the feathered fruits of the Tandari orchards that sang as they ripened, providing ten thousand years of condensed bliss in a single bite, to the ethereal wines distilled from the nebulous clouds of the Andari sector, capable of granting eternal youth with a single drop, our tables overflowed with the rarest of delicacies. Our banquets were events where the impossible was ordinary, where one could taste the sweetness of a chilled Vermillion Bird prepared with the spice of a comet's tail.
Our wealth was truly immeasurable, containing not mere gold or jewels, but the rarest treasures from millions of worlds. Artifacts that bent the laws of the world, gems that held the essence of collapsed stars, and tapestries woven from the very threads of time and fate itself adorned our halls. Our vaults contained relics and curiosities that would make the greatest of emperors weep with envy. Such was our influence and power that even Gods gave our family face.
Yet, it was the Great Door that was our crowning glory. This artifact, bound absolutely and irrevocably to our bloodline, was the absolute marvel of our Empire. It was our key to the corridors of the cosmos, allowing us to step from one world to another with but a thought. Our mansions were not confined to a single world or dimension – instead, they were sprawling estates that spanned planets, dimensions, and planes of existence, each room a gateway to another spectacular vista. With the Great Door, every senior official's home was an interdimensional marvel – a garden overlooking the serene landscapes of Elysia, a library nestled in the quiet halls of a long-lost temple in a time-forgotten universe, bedrooms with views of galaxies being born.
None dared disrespect us. We had no peers. No equals. In our hubris, we believed ourselves invincible, untouchable lords of creation. And yet, in our relentless pursuit of wonder, we dove too boldly into nooks between universes best left forgotten, and there awoke a long dormant darkness that even all of our vast power could not quell. I dare not describe to you what we faced, for ignorance is often the best defense against such foes, but know that our functionally unlimited resources and talents from a million worlds were not enough. When the Emperor and my eldest siblings were killed, after I felt the Great Door's control connect to me, I knew that I had to flee. Mere minutes later, grabbing what I could, I used all of the Door's considerable power to send myself to the further -- conceptually -- universe I could reach. So far did I travel that the Great Door's power became exhausted upon the end of my journey. Here, on Earth, a world of simplicity and science, a world utterly devoid of magic or spiritual power of any kind, I sought refuge, concealing our legacy within this sanctum you now stand in.
The Great Door is dormant now, its energies utterly exhausted... and yet, I have no doubt that an artifact of its level will awaken once again in time. In time, you shall be able to access this room and read my letter. Soon afterwards, our power shall be resurgent, with a base in this new world. You, my heir, are destined to wield it. Rebuild our dynasty to greatness once more, but let my words be your guide – seek wisdom, explore, discover, and grow in power -- but bite not more than you can safely chew, and seek not the shadows in your over-ambition.
Yours In Great Love and Wisdom,
-Your Grandfather
---
John stood motionless for a moment, the letter from his great grandfather slowly slipping from his hands. The weight of the revelation, the sheer absurdity of it, began to press down on him. His heart pounded in his chest, a rapid drumbeat echoing the turmoil in his mind. This couldn't be real. It had to be a hallucination, a figment of his overworked imagination, a bout of drunken insanity triggered by the divorce... or, perhaps, even an elaborate, cruel prank.
Shaking his head in disbelief, John turned away from the desk and the impossible truths it held. He moved towards the door of the study, his steps heavy, each one an effort to distance himself from the lunacy of the situation. The idea of walking through doorways to other worlds was a concept straight out of a fantasy novel, something he may have believed as a five year old child... not a serious concept that belonged in his reality. If it were real, such a power was too vast, too uncontrollable. Too impossible. Too dangerous. John couldn't help but feel a sense of relief as he neared the door to the study. At the moment, he just wanted to leave, to return to the comforting normalcy of his old brick house, where the biggest concern was fixing a leaky faucet or clearing out the attic. As he approached the threshold, his mind whirled, involuntarily, with the ludicrous dangers the Door could represent. Honestly, the thought of stepping through a door only to find oneself in the vacuum of space, on a desolate planet that had long since lost its atmosphere, was terrifying. Or... what about emerging in a sunken city beneath the ocean waves of an alien world, the crushing, icy depths and massive Leviathans waiting to swallow him whole?
The very thought was enough to send a shiver down his spine.
But as John's foot crossed the threshold of the doorway, he simply disappeared from the room -- in less than a blink of an eye, he vanished from the study, leaving no trace behind. The room, with its opulent furnishings and air of solemn history, remained as silent and undisturbed as ever. The parchment and tome remained on the desk, waiting quietly.