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Chapter 5 – The Forbidden Truth
Seraphina's heart stopped as the whisper of her name echoed once more, colder this time, as if the very air itself was warning her. Her fingers hovered just inches from the door handle, the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest. She knew it was Lucien, though she couldn't see him. The presence of his voice lingered, palpable and haunting, like a shadow wrapped in whispers.
"Lucien…" she murmured, her voice barely a breath, caught between defiance and fear.
But there was no answer. Instead, the silence deepened, and the door before her seemed to grow larger, more imposing. The pull was stronger now, almost suffocating. It wasn't just curiosity anymore. It was something else—something deeper that had woven itself into her very soul, urging her forward.
With a final, trembling breath, she reached for the handle. The door creaked open, its ancient hinges protesting the intrusion. The cold air from within hit her like a wave, making her shiver. The shadows inside the tower seemed to shift, like they were alive, waiting.
For a moment, Seraphina hesitated, staring into the pitch-blackness beyond. But the same force that had drawn her here now propelled her forward. She stepped inside.
The door slammed shut behind her with a deafening sound, sealing her inside. Her pulse raced, and she whirled around, but there was nothing—no escape, no way out. Only the winding stairs leading upward into the depths of the tower. The silence enveloped her, thick and oppressive, as if the walls themselves were closing in.
She took a step forward, then another, each movement deliberate and hesitant. The cold, damp stone beneath her feet sent shivers up her spine. She could hear her own breathing, shallow and ragged, but no other sound—no footsteps, no whispering voices.
Yet, it felt as if the tower was watching her.
The further she climbed, the heavier the air became. The walls around her seemed to close in, narrowing until she was nearly swallowed by the darkness. There were no windows, no lights, only the faintest trace of moonlight filtering through cracks in the stone. The shadows moved like living things, slithering along the walls as if they had a mind of their own.
Her hand grazed the stone railing, the rough surface scraping against her fingertips. The smell of old, stale air filled her lungs, thick with dust and secrets long buried. Her mind raced, thoughts spinning in chaotic circles. What was she doing? Why had she come here?
The questions pressed down on her, but they were drowned out by a louder, more insistent voice—the one that had been urging her forward from the very beginning.
You have to know. You have to find the truth.
Her eyes darted upward, and there it was—the door at the top of the stairs. It stood alone, ancient and imposing, just as it had been in her dreams. This was it. The place where everything would change.
The door seemed to pulse with a life of its own, glowing faintly with an eerie, otherworldly light. Seraphina's breath caught in her throat as she approached, each step bringing her closer to something she could barely comprehend.
She reached for the handle, her fingers brushing the cool surface. A tremor ran through her body, not from fear, but from anticipation—something dark, something dangerous, beckoning her to open it.
But just as her hand closed around the handle, she heard it again.
"Seraphina…"
Lucien's voice was louder this time, closer. She spun around, but there was nothing. The shadows had deepened, and the tower seemed to close in on her, suffocating her with its presence.
"Lucien!" she called out, her voice a mix of desperation and anger. "What do you want from me?"
But there was no answer—only the oppressive silence. No footsteps, no movement. Just the weight of his absence.
Then, as if the tower itself was responding, the door in front of her began to open. Slowly, creaking on its hinges, as if inviting her in. She didn't know why, but she stepped forward, crossing the threshold.
The moment she stepped inside, the air shifted. The room was massive, and yet, it felt like it was closing in around her. Shadows twisted in the corners, and the faint glow of the moon seemed to fade completely, swallowed by the darkness.
In the center of the room, an altar stood, ancient and covered in dust. The stone was slick with age, but what caught her attention was the object lying on the altar—a ring.
It gleamed in the dim light, a delicate silver band with an intricately carved symbol she couldn't recognize. It called to her, as though it was waiting for her, just as the tower had.
She reached for it, her fingers trembling as they closed around the cool metal.
A sudden rush of power surged through her, a wave of energy that shook her to her core. The room spun, and her vision blurred as memories—strange, foreign, and vivid—flooded her mind. Blood. Fire. A shadowed figure with glowing eyes, watching her from the darkness.
The ring pulsed in her hand, and the world seemed to collapse around her. The air thickened, pressing in on her from all sides. She gasped, stumbling backward, her heart racing in her chest. The power was overwhelming, but it wasn't just the ring. It was something older, something ancient that had been waiting for this moment.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, the pressure lifted. Seraphina blinked, her breath coming in rapid gasps. She looked down at the ring, still clenched tightly in her hand, but now… it felt different.
The shadows in the room had begun to move again, swirling around her. A voice, familiar and cold, cut through the air.
"You shouldn't have done that."
She spun around, and there he was. Lucien. His figure emerged from the darkness, his expression unreadable. But there was something else—something in his eyes that wasn't just cold. It was something darker. Something she hadn't seen before.
Seraphina's heart skipped a beat. "Lucien… what is this? What have I done?"
He took a step forward, his gaze never leaving hers. "You've awakened something you can't control, Seraphina. And now, you're bound to it."
Her pulse quickened. "Bound? To what?"
Lucien's lips barely moved, but his voice cut through the silence with finality.
"To the curse."
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