The cold, stone hallway felt endless as I walked through the winding corridors of the palace. The further I ventured, the more the weight of the place pressed down on me, the air thick with secrets I wasn't ready to uncover. The whispers were quieter now, almost drowned out by the oppressive silence of this part of the palace.
I had stumbled upon this part of the castle by accident. At least, I told myself that. But a part of me, deep inside, knew that I was being led here — guided by the bond, maybe even by fate itself.
I had been trying to ignore the pull for days, but the power inside me was becoming harder to resist, urging me forward, deeper into the labyrinth of stone and shadow. Each step felt like it was pulling me closer to something I didn't understand — something I wasn't ready for.
And then I found it.
A small door, hidden behind a velvet tapestry. I had passed it at least a dozen times before, but today, it stood out to me. It was as though the world around me had slowed down, and the door had become the only thing in focus. I reached out instinctively, my fingers brushing against the cold wood, and without thinking, I pushed it open.
The room beyond was unlike any I had seen in the palace. It was smaller, darker, and colder. The air felt damp, as though it hadn't been touched in centuries. The walls were lined with portraits — dozens of them, their faces pale, their eyes cold and watchful. The portraits of noblewomen, all adorned in regal clothing, their expressions frozen in time. But there was something different about them, something unsettling.
And then I saw it.
At the far end of the room, tucked away in the darkest corner, was a portrait that seemed to call to me. The woman in the painting looked identical to me. Her eyes, her hair, even the way she held herself — it was as if I were staring at a reflection of myself.
I stepped closer, unable to tear my eyes away from the image. There was no mistaking it. The woman in the portrait looked like me. But how could that be possible?
I reached out, my fingers trembling as I brushed the frame of the painting. My heart raced, my mind reeling. Who was she? Why did she look like me?
"Clea."
The voice came from behind me, so soft, so faint, I almost thought I had imagined it. But I knew I hadn't. My heart skipped a beat.
I spun around, only to find nothing. The room was empty, the air still. But the voice — the voice was real.
"Clea."
This time, I felt it. It was a whisper, a call. But it wasn't Kael. The voice was feminine, sweet, and filled with a strange urgency. It echoed in my mind, leaving me breathless.
I froze, my body tensing. The voice felt familiar, but I couldn't place it. My pulse quickened.
And then, before I could react, the door slammed shut behind me with a deafening bang.
Kael's Fury
I jumped, my heart pounding in my chest. I turned to the door, but before I could make a move, I heard the heavy footsteps echoing through the stone corridor. I didn't need to look to know who it was. I could feel his presence — cold, dark, overwhelming.
Kael.
The door creaked open behind me, and he stepped into the room, his silver eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was sharp, laced with fury, and I could feel the heat of his anger radiating off him.
I straightened, my heart still racing. "I— I just found this room. I didn't—" My words faltered as I gestured toward the portrait. "This woman— she looks like me."
Kael's jaw clenched, and his expression hardened as he took a step toward me. "She is nobody." His words were cold, dismissive, but the way he said it — the way his eyes darkened — told me there was more.
"Nobody?" I repeated, my voice rising in disbelief. "She looks exactly like me, Kael. And don't lie to me. I know there's more to this. What are you hiding?"
He stopped in his tracks, his eyes flickering briefly to the portrait before his gaze returned to mine. For a moment, I thought he might speak, might finally tell me the truth. But then he turned away, his shoulders tight with tension.
"I told you to stay away from this place," he said, his voice low. "You don't understand what you're dealing with."
"What I'm dealing with?" I stepped forward, my frustration growing. "You've marked me, lied to me, and now you expect me to just trust you? I'm not a fool."
Kael's eyes flashed with anger, but he didn't speak. The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words. I could feel his anger, but I could also feel something else — something that made me hesitate.
I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion. "I need answers. Who is she? Who is the woman in the painting, and why do we look the same?"
Kael turned back to me, his expression darkening further. "You're not ready for this," he said quietly, his voice heavy with an emotion I couldn't name.
"What do you mean?!" I demanded, stepping closer. "Why have you kept this from me? What am I?"
Kael's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. He stepped toward me, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and something else — something I couldn't quite place.
"You want the truth?" he growled. "Survive the next trial. Then maybe you'll understand."
Cliffhanger:
Before I could speak, Kael turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving me standing there, breathless and shaken.
The door slammed behind him, leaving me alone with the portrait, with the whispers, with the questions that had no answers. The labyrinth of lies was tightening around me, and I was trapped in it, unable to escape.
The woman in the portrait still stared back at me, her eyes filled with secrets, and I couldn't shake the feeling that everything I had been told was a lie.