The door opened to an unexpected sight. Instead of a beautiful damsel running into my arms I am met with an almost empty circular room. With the exception of one thing, a stone pedestal with a small trinket on top of it. My footsteps each through the room as I approach it’s center, the smell of old wood and hard stone permeating the room. I run my fingers along the dusty, hideous faces chiselled into the trinket, it was barely the size of my hand, yet as soon as I touched it, all I could feel was dread, pure, unbridled, Lovecraftian dread. I fall back, the trinket clanging against the floor with a metallic ring, just the idea of touching the object is enough to make me sweat. I had already beaten the dragon, this thing wasn’t worth my time. As soon as I turned around, I saw the door swing shut and the trinket starting to emit a strange whirring sound.