CHAPTER 13: HIDDEN ROOM

Leek returned to his chamber, his thoughts heavy with the night's events. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the world. His crimson eyes swept over the familiar space, but tonight, something drew him to a forgotten corner of the room.

The wall stood tall, unassuming yet peculiar. Dust and cobwebs clung to its surface, and the faint outlines of ancient carvings were just visible beneath the grime. It was not an ordinary wall—it was a hidden part of the castle, a secret place that no one else dared to question.

Leek pulled the small, worn key from around his neck. The memory of his mother pressing it into his hand flashed through his mind. He hesitated, his fingers curling around the key.

Why now? Why was he being drawn here tonight?

With a sharp exhale, he slid the key into the nearly invisible lock. The click echoed through the chamber, and the wall creaked open, revealing a passage filled with dust and shadows.

Leek stepped inside, his boots crunching on the undisturbed floor. The air was thick and cold, carrying the weight of centuries past.

The room stretched out before him, filled with treasures he couldn't begin to explain. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with old books, scrolls, and strange artifacts. Some glowed faintly in the dim light; others seemed to hum with an energy he couldn't name.

Leek's sharp eyes wandered over the room, taking in its mysteries. There were weapons unlike any he'd seen before—blades with inscriptions that shimmered faintly, orbs that seemed to hold swirling clouds within them, and objects so bizarre he couldn't even guess their purpose.

Every corner of the room whispered of secrets, histories, and power long forgotten.

As he ventured deeper, a memory surged forward, sharp and vivid.

It was the day his mother, Lilian, had given him the key. Their land had been under attack, and the castle was overrun with enemies. He had been a young boy, clutching his baby brother Hermer as they hid in the shadows.

"Leek," his mother had said, kneeling before him. Her voice was steady, but he could see the fear in her eyes. She placed the key in his hand, her grip firm.

"This is important. Never let anyone find it. Keep it safe, no matter what happens. And Leek, promise me—stay hidden. Protect your brother. I will come back for you."

He had watched as she left, her figure disappearing into the chaos of the battle. He had clutched Hermer tightly, peeking through a small hole as the fight unfolded.

His mother had fought bravely, her strength unmatched. But then, the unthinkable happened. A spear struck her chest, and Leek had watched in horror as her heart was ripped out.

He had covered Hermer's eyes, shielding his brother from the gruesome sight. But for Leek, the image was burned into his memory forever.

Leek shook off the memory, his jaw tightening. He moved toward a large wooden table in the center of the room. Dust covered its surface, and he brushed it away, revealing intricate carvings etched into the wood.

Drawers lined the table, each sealed with small, ornate locks. But it wasn't the table that caught his attention—it was the wall behind it.

There, among the many carvings and symbols, one image stood out. It glowed faintly, a figure carved in the stone.

As he reached out to touch the carving, a strange warmth pulsed through his hand. The glow intensified, and for a moment, the room seemed to vibrate with energy.

Leek moved closer to the wall, his eyes fixed on the glowing image. It wasn't complete.

The figure carved into the stone was missing pieces its head was gone, and parts of the body were scattered and broken. Only the crescent moon in its hand remained intact, glowing faintly in the dim light.

The carving looked like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Leek ran his fingers along the edges of the stone, feeling the grooves and cracks. The missing parts seemed deliberate, as if someone had tried to hide the full image.

"It's a woman," he murmured, his voice barely audible. Though incomplete, the curves of the figure and the graceful way it held the moon told him it was feminine.

But why was it broken?

Leek stepped back, trying to make sense of it. The moon seemed to call to him, its soft glow pulling him in.

The symbols around the image were faint but familiar. He had seen some of them in the books his mother used to read, symbols tied to old magic and ancient power.

He looked around the chamber, his eyes scanning the shelves and the scattered artifacts. Maybe the answer was here, hidden among the treasures.

"This room holds secrets," he said to himself.

Leek reached for one of the books on the nearest shelf, its spine cracked with age. The title was faded, written in a language he barely recognized. As he flipped through the pages, he found drawings and symbols similar to the ones on the wall.

The glow from the moon on the carving grew brighter, casting light across the chamber. Leek turned back to the wall, watching as the moon's light illuminated the missing parts of the image.

For a moment, he thought he saw something a faint outline of what the image could be if it were whole. But just as quickly, the light dimmed again, leaving only the crescent moon shining.

Leek frowned, frustration bubbling inside him. This wasn't just a carving. It was a message.

But what?

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against the glowing moon. The warmth from it pulsed through his hand, sending a shiver up his spine.

"Why did my mother keep this hidden?" he wondered aloud. "What was she trying to protect?"

The image felt alive, as if it was waiting for him to do something, to figure out its mystery.

Leek stared at the carving, his mind racing. The room held answers, but it also held the weight of his past. His mother's voice echoed in his memory, her final words heavy with meaning.

Was this what she had been protecting?

Leek's eyes lingered on the broken image for what felt like hours. No matter how much he studied it, the scattered pieces refused to make sense. The glow of the moon in the carving dimmed slightly, as if mocking his efforts.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. Turning away from the wall, he scanned the shelves, hoping one of the countless books could explain what he was looking at.

He pulled out book after book, flipping through fragile pages filled with faded text and strange illustrations. Each one seemed to lead nowhere.

Then he noticed a particular book wedged between two larger volumes. Its cover was old and worn, but a distinct palm print was etched into the leather. It felt out of place.

Curious, Leek grabbed the book and carried it to a nearby table. He ran his fingers over the palm print, noticing the rough texture. Slowly, he opened the book.

The pages were filled with symbols and writing in a language he didn't understand. The script was intricate, almost artistic, but completely indecipherable.

"What is this?" he muttered, flipping through page after page.

Frustration bubbled to the surface as the text offered no answers. The book seemed important, but without understanding the language, it was useless.

With a groan, he slammed the book shut and tossed it onto the table.

Leek leaned back, staring at the ceiling. His head throbbed, and his patience was wearing thin. This room and its secrets were pulling him into a maze with no clear path forward.

Deciding he needed a break, he locked the chamber door and stepped into the main hall.

Back in his private quarters, Leek stripped off his dusty clothes and stepped into the bathing chamber. The warm water flowed over his skin, washing away the grime and tension from the day.

As he soaked, his thoughts wandered back to the broken image and the palm-printed book. The mystery gnawed at him, and no amount of water could ease the restlessness in his mind.

"She hid this for a reason," he whispered, staring at the rippling surface of the bathwater. "But what was she protecting? And why now?"

After his bath, Leek dressed in fresh clothes and made his way to his study. The familiar space, filled with maps, scrolls, and neatly organized books, offered a small measure of comfort.

He sat at his desk, letting the quiet of the room settle over him. But even here, the questions from the hidden chamber lingered, refusing to let him rest.