THE LOCKED ROOM
402 Words
The East Wing felt colder at night. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, casting long shadows that danced across the polished floors. Mira walked carefully, arms full of linens, trying not to think about how Elias had looked at her earlier—like she was something dangerous.
Why did my scent unsettle him? Why did Kael look at me like… he already knew me?
She passed by the hallway where the servants were told never to go. The far door—carved with black wood and etched with silver veins—was always locked.
But tonight, it was open.
Just an inch.
Mira froze. Every instinct said to walk away.
Instead, she stepped forward.
The room inside was nothing like the rest of the East Wing. No velvet. No polished stone. Just books—hundreds of them—some handwritten, bound in leather. A massive desk sat in the middle, covered in open journals, old maps, and strange symbols that glowed faintly under the moonlight.
In the center: a silver chain coiled around a small black box. The air shimmered faintly above it, like heat.
Curiosity tugged at her. She reached out—
"Touch that," came a voice behind her, cold and deadly, "and you’ll lose more than your fingers."
She spun.
Kael.
He stepped inside slowly, shutting the door behind him. His presence filled the room like thunderclouds.
"You shouldn’t be in here."
"I—I didn’t mean to snoop. The door was open—"
"Doors like that don’t open by accident." His eyes narrowed. "You’re being drawn to things you don’t understand."
She backed away slightly, brushing against the desk. Kael moved closer—not menacing, but intense.
"You feel it, don’t you?" he asked quietly.
"Feel what?" she breathed.
Kael’s gaze dropped to her hands. Her skin glowed faintly where she’d almost touched the chain. The air between them buzzed.
"You’re not just the help," he said, more to himself than her. "You’re something else entirely."
He stepped even closer. Mira didn’t move.
"You need to be careful, Mira," he murmured, voice softer now. "There are truths in this house that want to stay buried."
A moment passed—his breath mixing with hers. Then he opened the door and nodded for her to leave.
She stepped out, heart pounding.
Truths that want to stay buried... or truths that someone is hiding from me on purpose?
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- Writer
