[ Morgana watches this scenario unfurl with her expression as unreadable as she can make it. When it ends, she laces her hands together in front of her, placing them carefully over her belly. ]

Not much of a locked door, is it? ... [ a short pause. ] Unless, of course, the vines are the lock, in question.

[ She is a Wizard, she supposes. ] Perhaps detecting would be the better thought here before that, though.