Untitled Episode3
1297 Words
Chapter 3
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Sarah didn’t sleep well. Not because the bed was uncomfortable but because the room felt too quiet. Not peaceful, quiet. The kind of quiet that made her feel like she was being listened to even when nothing was there.
She turned once again on the narrow bed. Somewhere in her mind, she still saw it. The portrait, the crown, the vines and Adrian’s warning, echoing in a voice that didn’t leave easily.
Some things are not meant to be remembered. Morning came without announcement. No bells, no voices, no movement of cheerful servants like in the main palace. Just silence that slowly became awake.
Sarah sat up. For a moment, she stayed still, listening. Nothing. Then she stood.
“Day two,” she muttered. “And I already miss ignorance.”
The corridor outside her room was empty.Not empty like abandoned, empty like controlled.
Like people had agreed not to exist too loudly.
Sarah walked slowly. No one greeted her and no one stopped her but she felt it,eyes not obvious, not direct but present.
She reached a small storage chamber. A folded note waited on the table. No seal, no signature. Just instructions.
“North Hall. Record duty. Dust control.”
Sarah sighed.
“Of course it’s dust.”
The North Hall was worse than yesterday’s spaces. It wasn’t just old, it felt buried.
Tall shelves stretched into dim light. Books and records stacked in ways that suggested no one had rearranged them in years.
The air smelled like paper that had stopped being cared about.
Sarah picked up a cloth and started working. At first, there was only the sound of movement.
Wipe, shift, clean and repeat. The kind of work that made time feel heavier instead of passing.
Then—
She heard a sound. It was soft. Metal against wood. Sarah stopped immediately and looked up.
She found nothing.
She frowned.
“…Hello?”
Silence answered.
She shook her head.
“Great. I’m hearing ghosts now.”
She went back to cleaning. But the feeling didn’t leave. It grew instead like the room was aware of her presence. Like it didn’t approve.
Something or rather Someone passed behind her.
Sarah froze then slowly turned. It was Alaric. He stood near the far shelves. Just like before.
Quiet, still and watching.
Sarah exhaled sharply.
“Do you enjoy doing that?”
No answer came from him.
Of course, he never answered.
Sarah folded her arms.
“You can’t just appear like that. People knock first in normal places.”
Alaric didn’t react. Instead, he moved past her and picked up a stack of old records.
His movements were careful and controlled. Like someone who had learned silence too well.
Sarah studied him. The scar on his throat was more visible today. It looked old and deep.
Her curiosity rose again before she could stop it.
“Who did that to you?”
Everywhere went Silent. He paused what he was doing just for a second, then continued walking as if she hadn’t spoken.
Sarah frowned.
“That’s not normal, you know.”
Still he didn't say anything. He placed the records down and turned slightly away.Dismissive or avoiding.
She couldn’t tell.
Then—footsteps were heard. It was different and lighter.
Sarah turned and saw a young woman standing at the doorway. She looked around Sarah’s age and was carrying cleaning tools.
Her eyes flicked immediately to Alaric then quickly away. Like she had made a mistake just by looking. She hesitated before stepping inside.
“You’re the new one,” she said quietly.
Sarah nodded. “Apparently.”
The girl gave a small, tired expression.
“Try not to stand out.”
Sarah blinked. “That’s becoming a theme here.”
The girl didn’t smile.
“In this wing, standing out is not survival. It's an invitation.”
Sarah frowned slightly.
“Invitation to what?”
The girl looked at her like she had already said too much. Then lowered her voice.
“To disappear in different ways.”
Silence settled again but this time it was heavy.
Alaric continued sorting records like he hadn’t heard anything. But Sarah noticed something. He was listening even if he pretended not to be.
“What’s his name?” Sarah asked quietly.
The girl hesitated then answered reluctantly.
“…Alaric.”
Sarah glanced at him.
“Does he ever speak?”
A pause, then—
“No.”
The girl tightened her grip on her cloth.
“Not anymore.”
Sarah frowned.
“What does that mean?”
The girl shook her head quickly.
“I shouldn’t be talking about him.”
Then she stepped back, already leaving. Sarah watched her go then turned back to Alaric. Something about him felt wrong. Not dangerous, not cruel. Just… buried. Like a story that had been cut off halfway.
She bent slightly and picked up a fallen parchment near his station.A small symbol was stamped on it.The crown wrapped in vines.
Her fingers paused. She looked up sharply.
“Alaric—”
But he had already moved.bThe parchment was gone from her hand. Folded, hidden and fast.
For the first time, his eyes met hers properly and in that brief moment—Sarah felt it. Not warning, not anger. Something closer to fear, not hers but his.
Then he turned away again as if nothing had happened.
Sarah stood still for a moment longer than she should have. Then exhaled.
“Okay,” she whispered. “That’s definitely not normal.”
By midday, she was sent to another corridor.
This one had fewer windows, less light and more locked doors. The kind of place that didn’t invite questions.But of course—Sarah had questions.
She passed a long wall of portraits again where she saw the royal family line, old generations and faded faces watching from frames.
She slowed down and then stopped. One portrait looked… wrong. Not damaged, not different. Just familiar in a way she couldn’t explain.
Her hand lifted slightly but before she could step closer—a voice cut in sharply.
“Don’t.”
Sarah turned.
Adrian stood behind her.
Of course. Always appearing at the edge of moments she wasn’t supposed to reach.
She frowned.
“You’re starting to feel like a warning system.”
He didn’t respond to that. Instead, he looked at the portraits then back at her.
“Why are you here?”
“I was working.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Sarah crossed her arms.
“And yet, that’s the answer you’re getting.”
He studied her for a moment. Then lowered his voice slightly.
“This wing doesn’t forgive curiosity.”
Sarah tilted her head.
“It doesn’t seem to forgive anything.”
That earned a faint pause from him almost like agreement but not quite then he stepped closer.
Just slightly enough for his voice to drop.
“If you want to stay here,” he said, “stop looking at what you’re not ready to understand.”
Sarah met his eyes.
“And when will I be ready?”
Then—
“People here don’t get ready,” he said quietly. “They survive… or they don’t.”
And just like that, he walked away. Sarah stood there staring at the portraits in silence at the feeling that she was standing in the middle of something that had already started long before she arrived. Then her eyes caught it again.
The symbol, carved into the base of the frame. It was fresh enough to still feel intentional.
Her breath slowed because t
his time—she was sure it hadn’t been there yesterday.
And somewhere deep inside the Lower East Wing,something that had stayed quiet for years had just been touched.
- Writer
