Inside, there was no treasure. No gold, no deeds to lost land. There was only a heavy, slate-grey block of metal, smooth and featureless, about the size of a brick. And resting on top of it, a single sheet of yellowed paper folded once.
She typed:
For three seconds, nothing happened.
Or, she could stay.
She turned the key. The hinges groaned, a sound like a dying breath. en52wmb