Way: The White Door

"In my dreams, I've passed the white door, which has been called the Bone Door and the Gate of Ivory. My voice remains outside the House each time I enter."

Reaching
Way: The White Door can be reached by Dreaming with Way: The Wood and a Lore Fragment with, , or 4 or higher.

Entering
Dreaming with Way: The White Door and Health will bring you to the Mansus where you must choose one of three cards. The card representing The White Door will be face up, while the two representing the Lodge of the Sage Knight and The Orchard of Lights are face-down. You must click and drag a card to the Gate. Only one card can be chosen; the other two will be revealed and then destroyed.

The White Door

 * Restlessness Some Dead are lost in the Wood, some rise higher, but many - so many - pass the White Door into the House, and become silent forever. Last night they thronged the entrance. Our mouths were healed wounds. Their eyes roamed my skin. Their hands sought my warmth, but my touch burnt, and they drew back. Their urgency infected me.
 * A Furtive Truth ( 4) Many of the Dead enter the Mansus through the White Door. They wander its corridors in silence until they are lost. Some embrace each other, some devour each other, some force their way into the dreams of the living. A few record their memories on the Mansus-stone where it is soft. They scratch it with their nails, you see. Last night I read one of those memories.
 * An Icy Atmosphere ( 6) Last night the White Door was bright as a mirror, bright as fresh snow, bright as the migraine moon. I remember its brightness, but I remember its chill the most. I laid my cheek against it. I still feel the ache of its cold in my skull.

Lodge of the Sage Knight

 * Fascination Last night in the billowing blue of the Lodge of the Sage Knight, I sat on velvet cushions and watched two Dead contend with shining swords. 'They came with the place,' said the woman who rules here now, the one who once called herself Galmier. 'I was not the Sage Knight, if that's what you're wondering! He went higher in the Mansus, long before I came here.' My attention has drifted. The swords sparkle like falling water; the Dead move like dancers.
 * Glimmering I recall my dream. This was the Lodge of blue silk, flapping in the winds of the Bounds at the Mansus' edge, and here was its mistress, who welcomed me as she welcomes all travellers. 'Company is nice,' she confided, 'but I still miss my Christopher. Ten years! Ten years, and not enough. But we could not have been Long together - not without touching each other. And you know what occurs when a man-Long lies with a Long woman. Or perhaps you don't. I hope you don't. I won't tell you, just in case. I will give you a tiny gift.'
 * Erudition In last night's dream, I was in the Lodge of the Sage Knight, behind the White Door - it is difficult to remember exactly how I came there - and the mistress of the place, the woman with the dark glasses, was nodding as if I had asked her a difficult question. Of course I hadn't. I lost my speech when I passed the White Door. 'How is it that I can speak?' she said to me. 'I didn't come here through the White Door. I'm not proud of what I did to come here. So let me tell you about something else.'
 * A Favour from Authority Last night I dreamt of a blue silk pavilion overlooking the cloudy labyrinth of the Bounds. I listened to the mistress of the place speak of other visitors. 'The Suppression Bureau come here, did you know that? I think they hope to recruit me as an ally.' She snorts derisively. 'After what they tried to do to Christopher? But their folly is your fortune. I will tell you something that may help you, if the Bureau ever troubles you.
 * A Forgotten Chronicle ( 6) Last night I visited the Lodge of the Sage Knight. My hostess manifested as an elegant woman with fashionably short hair and dark glasses. 'No,' she admits, 'I don't need them any more, any more than I need eyes. Allow me my sentimentalities. But you've come for knowledge, I expect? Here is a story I heard in my Kerisham days. You are welcome to it. Only remember me, if you come to make the Pilgrimage.'
 * Subtle Fracture ( 6) Last night, in the great Pavilion above the grey sprawl of the Bounds, a woman who once called herself Teresa Galmier sat on gilt-fringed cushions, and offered me a horn cup of dream-wine. 'The wine is imaginary,' she explained, 'but the cup is not. To navigate the Mansus one must understand the distinction. Perhaps one day you'll join me on the Pilgrimage, or I'll join you. So here, let us share a secret -' and her breath tickled my ear.

The Orchard of Lights

 * Glimmering The Sun-in-Splendour, the Hour who once ruled the Mansus, was known to walk in the Orchard, before his terrible division. Sometimes his remnants walk here still - sometimes I see the chilly radiance of the Meniscate through the trees, or the chillier radiance of the Sun-in-Rags. Were they to come upon me, it might be my end, but to see them in the distance is a gift of insight.
 * A Forgotten Chronicle ( 6) Last night I walked in the Orchard of Lights. I plucked the fruit (which is always ripe) and consumed it in two bites (the taste is not to be forgotten). As I licked the glowing juices from my fingers, I saw a message carved in the bark of the tree. When I woke, I recorded that message - all I could remember - in my diary.
 * An Intensity of Radiance ( 6) 'The invisible arts,' Christopher Illopoly is said to have remarked, 'are as profitable as macramé, as ethical as tobacco-smuggling, and in general as beneficial as roulette. Still, there is always the Orchard of Lights.' And indeed, the Orchard, with its glowing fruit and its peaceful mists, is a place to be yearned for. Last night I walked there in the peaceful hours of the deep night. Even after waking, I still carry with me a little of the glory of the old Sun.
 * Pulsing Airs ( 6) The Hours have been called unmerciful, but they permit sleepers, sometimes, to walk in the Orchard of Lights, where each fruit glows like a sunset, where the roots of the trees are shaped for peaceful rest, where the mist soothes the heart. I was there last night, and the taste of the fruit lingers, sharp and sweet as the passage of spring to summer.

Ascending Further
"The ascent is slow. Winds from nowhere pluck at me. My skin is stained with light. The Wood shivers with motion, far below."

To reach The Stag Door, Dream with Way: The White Door and your Desire.