──────────────⋆˖☽ ​​𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 ☾˖⋆──────────────

The latch of the armory room door clicked into its frame with a sound like a cracking bone. It echoed down the long marble hall, a shockwave shattering the silence. I froze, my own heartbeat frantic. Every shadow seemed to coalesce into a man-shaped threat. Were those footsteps, or just the panicked thumping in my own ears?

I couldn’t risk going back—I’d be completely trapped. I broke into a desperate, silent run, the soft soles of my boots barely whispering against the polished stone. The footsteps behind me were real now, no longer a phantom of my fear. They were heavy, unhurried, and getting closer. A doorknob refused to turn, cold and unyielding in my sweaty palm. I switched the candle holder to my other hand, my knuckles white, and threw my shoulder against the next door. It swung inward, revealing a darkness so complete it seemed solid. I slid through, easing it shut until the mechanism whispered shut. Safe. For now. 

I pressed my forehead against the cool wood of the door, trying to command the frantic rhythm of my breathing to slow. That’s when I heard it—a soft thump from the center of the room.

I spun, every muscle locking into place. Across the blackness, two luminous blue orbs floated in the air, fixed on me. My breath hitched, trapped in my throat. They were beautiful, terrifying, and utterly alien.

A loud, interrogative “Meow!” shattered the tension.

A sleek white cat emerged from the gloom, its glowing eyes blinking slowly as it wound itself around my legs, a deep purr vibrating through its body. Relief washed over me in a dizzying wave, and my knees gave out. I sank to the floor. “Shh, you have to be quiet,” I whispered, my hand trembling as I stroked its soft fur.

As the adrenaline receded, the room’s scent registered—a comforting, masculine mix of pine, clean linen, and something wilder, like damp earth after a storm. It was familiar.

Suddenly, the distant, groaning complaint of the armory door opening echoed down the hall. I went rigid, my hand hovering over the purring cat. Please, please, don’t let him find me. The cat looked up, its purr hitching into another rising meow. I resumed stroking, a desperate plea for silence. Its intelligent blue eyes met mine, and for a heartbeat, it felt as though the creature understood everything.

An eternity later, the armory door slammed shut. Heavy footfalls approached, slow and measured. A muffled, weary sigh passed just outside my hiding place. “What a long day.” The steps continued, fading into silence.

The breath I’d been holding escaped in a ragged sigh. The cat stretched languidly, then leaped onto a neatly made bed. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw the glint of polished steel. A magnificent silver greatsword was propped against the wall. Despite its brutal size, it was pristine, clearly cherished. The only chaos in the otherwise immaculate room was a few frayed cat toys scattered on the floor.

I had lingered long enough. With one last glance at the cat, I crept back to the door, turned the lock with painstaking slowness, and eased it open a crack. The hallway was a corridor of empty shadows.

My gaze swept from side to side as I crept towards the main staircase. At the bottom, I paused. Logic dictated the main entrance would be directly across from this grand descent. I moved down the corresponding hall, and after a few paces, I saw it—a massive door, promising freedom.

A surge of hope, sharp and breathtaking, propelled me forward. I have a weapon. I can make it to the harbor. There has to be a boat.

My hand closed around the cold, heavy handle. With a final, desperate pull, I opened the door.

A furious gust of wind met me, whipping my hair across my face. The world beyond was a churning chaos of sound and water. Rain fell not in drops but in solid, wind-driven sheets, hammering the ground with such force that it sprayed back up to my knees. The only light was the eerie, crimson glow of the one moon, staining the deluge in blood-red hues.

A silent, intricate web of lightning spidered across the entire sky, etching the violent scene onto my eyes for a terrifying instant before the world was plunged back into darkness. A moment later, a crack of thunder shook the very foundations of the building.

The hope in my chest didn’t curdle; it shattered.

I can’t leave. The thought was a ragged whisper in my mind. This can’t be happening. Not now. Not when I’m this close.

A phantom noise behind me—a scuff, a breath?—made me spin, but the hall was as empty and silent as a tomb. I slammed the door shut, the roar of the storm instantly severed, plunging me back into an almost painful stillness. The solid weight of the bow on my back was a small comfort, a reminder I wasn’t helpless.

It’s okay, I thought, my breath shuddering. I know the way out. For now, just get back.

I moved back up the stairs, a ghost in the shadows. A sliver of light spilled into the hall from the workers’ room. As I neared, their muffled voices sharpened into clarity.

“We’d better head back. We’ve been gone long enough.”

I flattened myself against the wall, my breath held captive.

“I’ll come with you!” a bright, chipper voice added. Celia. My stomach plunged, and the air seemed to crystallize in my lungs They were coming back to the room.

All pretense of stealth evaporated. I launched into a frantic, silent sprint down the corridor, the air burning in my lungs. My heart hammered a desperate rhythm against the base of my throat, choking me. I reached my door and risked a glance back—the hall was empty, but I could hear their footsteps echoing from an intersecting passage. They were close.

I wrenched the door open, slipped inside, and eased it shut with trembling hands. I scrambled to the bed, tearing the bow and quiver from my back and shoving them deep underneath. The footfalls were just outside. In one fluid motion, I threw myself onto the mattress, shoving the candle holder from my hand deep underneath the pillow.

A sharp knock rattled the door. It swung open before I could feign sleep, catching me with my hand still hidden.

Celia stood in the doorway, her head tilted, studying me with an unreadable expression. “Are you alright? I just wanted to check on you before turning in.” Her voice was pure honey.

“I’m fine,” I managed, forcing a tremor into my words. “Just a nightmare.” A pathetic lie, but the only one I had.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, her eyes softening. “You looked so exhausted, I was worried you’d fall asleep and be tormented. I was hoping the tea could help you rest without… well, without actually having to sleep.”

“I guess I was just exhausted,” I murmured, forcing my breathing to even out, my voice hushed and sleepy.

Celia’s brow furrowed. She drifted a step closer, her hands clasped together. “Oh, you poor thing. Would you like me to brew you another cup? It might help you.”

“No,” I said, I forced my fingers to uncurl, deliberately releasing my grip on the cool brass of the hidden weapon. “I don’t think it would help.”

Her eyes widened slightly, shining with an unwavering sincerity that felt more dangerous than any threat. “Are you certain? It’s no trouble at all. I hate the thought of you suffering.”

“I’m sure. Thank you.”

A violent crack of thunder split the air, making us both jump. Our eyes were drawn to the window, where rain streamed down the glass in shivering rivulets.

“What an awful storm,” Celia said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I do hope everyone is safe.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” I replied, my gaze returning to her, meeting hers at the same instant.

“You’re right,” she agreed, offering a small, earnest nod. “They’re strong.” A gentle smile touched her lips. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No,” I answered, perhaps too quickly.

“Alright then,” she said, her smile widening into a genuinely bright expression. “Goodnight.”

She slipped out, pulling the door quietly shut. A moment later, the heavy, final thump of the external lock sliding into place echoed in through the room.

My mind raced. Did she know? Was her cloying sweetness a mask for something sharp and cruel, or was I seeing malice in simple, misguided kindness?

In the end, I forced the questions away. My mind focused on the cold, solid weight of the bow hidden just inches beneath me. That was real. The layout of the house was real. Now, I just had to survive until I could find—or create—another opportunity to escape

Tomorrow, I would begin to learn this island’s secrets. I would map its paths in my mind, learn the rhythm of its tides, and search for the weakness, the one possible way out.

─────────────────◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ❨ ◯─────────────────

𝓓𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓭𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓼. 𝓐𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼, 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽!