Chapter 4: The Room Without Doors

Darkness wasn’t empty in this castle.

It breathed.

It whispered.

It watched.

Anaya felt it even with her eyes shut tight. Her back pressed against velvet-covered stone, heart thudding like a hunted animal’s. Every inch of her skin burned with the memory of that voice—low, liquid, taunting.

The ghost had touched her.

Or maybe worse.

She wasn’t even sure where the night ended and the nightmare began. Time folded here. Shadows wrapped around her like arms, and the castle wouldn’t let her go.

She opened her eyes.

The candles were back. Flickering. Swaying in some invisible wind. The red room stood the same as before—only now the exit was gone.

No door.

Just walls.

Stone and velvet and her.

Anaya stood shakily, her breath misting in the air. “Let me out.”

Silence.

Then laughter, soft and feminine, poured from the walls like perfume.

“Out?” came the voice. “But this is where you belong, little storm. You ran from one prison and walked into another. You just didn’t know I was waiting.”

Anaya spun, eyes wild. “Show yourself!”

“I never left,” said the ghost—and suddenly, the shadows peeled back like skin, and she emerged again.

The woman in red.

This time, barefoot. Her long hair poured like dark fire down her back, her gown clinging to her like blood-stained silk. Her eyes glowed — not with light, but with something older, something starved.

Anaya’s breath caught.

“I never left,” the ghost repeated, and took a step closer, her presence thick as smoke. “You left me.”

“I didn’t even know you existed,” Anaya hissed, backing away.

The ghost tilted her head. “But I knew you. Every inch. Every dream you thought was yours? I was there, pressing against the edges, tasting the fear and thrill inside your skin.”

Anaya’s pulse pounded. “You’re insane.”

“No,” she whispered, a smile twisting her lips. “Just… in love.”

With a flick of her wrist, the room shifted again. The walls pulsed like a heart, and the velvet beneath Anaya’s feet grew soft, sinking like flesh.

Anaya stumbled, the ground swallowing her steps.

“You don’t get to run this time,” the ghost said. “You ran before. You denied me. Hid behind human names and cities and ambition. But you came back, didn’t you? You walked straight into my arms.”

“This wasn’t for you,” Anaya growled. “This was never for you.”

The ghost appeared before her in a blink, her hand gripping Anaya’s chin with ice-cold fingers. “Everything is for me. This castle. That ring on your sister’s finger. The man you fled. The fire in your chest. You don’t even know how much I’ve shaped your story.”

“You don’t own me.”

The ghost’s eyes darkened, molten and violent. “Then why do you tremble like you do?”

Anaya’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

The ghost released her, only to stroke her hair like a lover. “I could burn this whole world down just to keep you inside the ashes with me. You think this place is haunted?” Her lips brushed Anaya’s ear. “I’m haunted. By you.”

Anaya’s body froze.

“I waited,” the ghost whispered. “Centuries of silence. Cold centuries, clawing at the walls of death just to feel again. And then came you—wearing fire like a crown, disobedient, furious, alive.”

“I’m not yours,” Anaya said, barely more than a breath.

“But you were never anyone else’s.”

The ghost stepped back, eyes gleaming. “Let’s play, Anaya. Let’s see how long you can stay sane while I break everything you thought was true.”

Chains of red light slithered down the walls. Shadows formed shapes. The door remained gone.

“You’ll beg me to stop,” the ghost said with a grin. “And when you do, I’ll kiss you sweetly and start all over again.”

“I won’t,” Anaya swore.

The ghost laughed — a broken sound full of hunger. “Then scream instead. That’s what storms do.”

And with that, the candles flared — and darkness swallowed them both whole.

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