He moved now with purpose. Up the stairs and through the winding third-floor corridor. There were no lights—the corridor was dark as a cave. Under a door gleamed a yellow sliver of light. He knocked.
No one answered. For several minutes he stood in the shadows, feeling himself without substance, aware only of his thoughts pulsing against the dark. He knocked again, this time louder, and was surprised to feel his heart leap in his chest--it made him smile at himself. He lifted his hand to knock again but instead drew back, turned around, and began to walk away.
It was then that the door partly opened. A streaming radiance fell before him on the scrolled carpet. Someone said, "Who is there?"....
–excerpt from "Chapter Four," p. 47.