Episode 3: The Hall of Secrets

💜 iam your author Lilith lust

my cute little red flag

💜

Here’s Episode 3 rewritten in exactly 600 words, polished with all the dark romance, secrets, and villain fire you love.

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Episode 3: The Hall of Secrets

Word Count: 600

The corridor stretches ahead, lit by flickering torches and silver moonlight slanting through tall stained-glass windows. It’s silent, save for the soft echo of our footsteps. My hand is still in Azaan’s, though I could let go at any moment. I don’t.

He leads me through a velvet-draped archway, stopping in front of an ancient oak door etched with forgotten symbols. It smells like dust, magic, and memory.

“You know where we are?” he asks.

I nod once. “The Hall of Secrets.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Most people avoid this place. They say the mirrors speak.”

I smirk. “Maybe they just don’t like what they see.”

The door creaks as he opens it. Inside, moonlight spills across the floor in ribbons. The room is lined with tall, arched mirrors—each one cracked slightly, as if they’ve seen too much. The air feels thick, almost alive. I step in without fear.

As I pass the first mirror, my reflection flickers.

For a moment, I see myself in a black crown, eyes glowing crimson, a kingdom burning behind me. Then it’s gone. Just my face again—calm, unreadable.

Azaan watches me closely. “Who are you really?”

I turn, facing him slowly. “You keep asking that.”

“Because you’re not just another girl at the ball.”

“No,” I agree. “I’m the one you should’ve remembered.”

He frowns. “We’ve met before?”

“Once. A lifetime ago.”

He takes a step toward me. “Then tell me.”

“I could,” I say, letting my fingers trail along the cold glass of a mirror. “But would you love me less if you knew the truth?”

His breath hitches slightly. “I never said I loved you.”

I smile. “But you’re thinking it.”

He doesn’t argue.

Instead, he closes the distance between us. His hand lifts to touch my cheek—tentative, warm. I let him.

His voice drops. “You’re dangerous.”

“And yet you’re still standing here.”

“I don’t want safety,” he whispers. “I want you.”

I should pull away. I should remind him who I am—what I came to do. But his lips brush against mine, and I stop thinking.

The kiss is fire and ruin. His mouth moves against mine like we’ve done this before, in dreams or past lives. His hands press into my waist; mine grip the back of his collar, pulling him closer.

It’s messy. Hungry. Wrong.

And perfect.

But I break it.

I push him gently away, my breath sharp. “Enough.”

He stares at me. “Why?”

“Because if I kiss you again, I might forget why I hate you.”

Azaan blinks, like something clicks behind his eyes. “What did I do?”

I step back into the shadows, mask re-fastening over my heart. “You broke something you had no right to touch.”

The air turns colder.

Then—

Footsteps.

We both turn as the heavy door creaks open again.