The Locked Room

The next day, clouds hung low over the forest, casting long shadows that stretched like claws across the path. Evelyn tightened her jacket and clutched her backpack, now heavier with supplies—a notebook, a pocket knife, a flashlight, and a worn leather-bound book she had found in her grandfather’s attic titled Forgotten Symbols of the Old World.

She hadn't told him where she was going. She didn’t think he’d understand. Maybe a part of her wasn’t sure she did either.

When she reached the library, the silence greeted her like an old friend. The rusted gate gave way more easily this time, as if the building had grown used to her visits. She stepped inside and let the heavy door fall shut behind her.

Lucien was waiting.

His posture was straighter today, the dullness in his eyes replaced by a flicker of life. “You came through the mist,” he murmured, eyes scanning her. “Good. They don’t like the cold air. It keeps them sleeping.”

“I brought something,” she said, pulling out the book. “My grandfather kept this hidden. He never mentioned it. But it has symbols just like the ones carved into the walls.”

Lucien’s expression shifted. “Let me see.”

She placed the book on the ground between them, flipping to a page marked by a dried leaf. The symbol etched there—an eye with a flame above it—was the same one carved into the stone near Lucien’s chains.

He leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “That’s a ward. A seal for watching and remembering. These weren’t just meant to imprison—they were meant to trap knowledge itself.”

“You said there’s a secret hidden here,” Evelyn said softly. “Something you were protecting. What is it?”

Lucien didn’t speak for a long moment. Then he said, “There’s a room. Sealed off from the rest of the library. You’ll know it by the iron door with no handle. That’s where they hid it.”

“Hid what?”

He looked at her, gaze sharp. “A name.”

Evelyn blinked. “A name?”

“The true name of something ancient. Something powerful enough to bend magic, time, even death. That’s why they sealed it away—and why I was cursed. I knew it.”

A chill passed through her.

Lucien’s chains rattled softly. “If you can find that room, you might find a way to weaken the enchantments. But the closer you get, the louder they’ll whisper. The Watchers guard that name with their very being.”

Evelyn stood, flashlight in hand. “Then I’ll find it.”

“You’ll need the key,” Lucien said.

“But you said the door has no handle.”

“Exactly. The key isn’t metal. It’s memory.”

He nodded toward her. “You carry it. Somewhere inside you.”

Evelyn felt her pulse race. “What does that mean?”

Lucien’s eyes darkened. “I don’t know. But when the time comes, you will.”

She left him, weaving her way deeper into the ruined halls. Dust swirled in the stale air. Her flashlight flickered as she passed through a narrow corridor lined with shattered windows.

Then she saw it—

A door. Iron. Seamless. Cold.

It stood like a wound in the stone.

And faintly, behind it, something breathed.

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