Chapter 8: Secrets of the Forbidden Wing

The air in the castle felt heavier than usual as if the very stones were alive and watching. Olivia's mind kept racing after her encounter with Paul and the strange symbol she had found. Every new discovery only increased the mystery surrounding her life.

That night, unable to ignore the disturbing questions in her heart, she decided to act. If Paul wouldn't answer her directly, she would find her own way to the truth.

The forbidden wing of the castle had always been covered in mystery. Olivia remembered being warned as a child never to step foot in it. It was said to be dangerous, unstable, and filled with documents of the past that were better left undisturbed.

Tonight, she wasn't going to let fear stop her. She had seen Paul slip into the wing earlier in the evening, and she was determined to follow him.

The corridor leading to the forbidden wing was dimly lit, the flashing torches giving out scary shadows on the walls. The deeper she went, the more the air became cold for her to feel, and a small sound seemed to vibrate through the stone underneath her feet.

As she reached the entrance, she hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside.

The forbidden wing was a complex designed place but now covered in dust, both the rooms and broken furniture, all of it scarily silent. Olivia's footsteps sounded as she walked aimlessly through the corridors, searching for any sign of Paul.

Finally, she stumbled upon a room at the end of the hall. The door was slightly opened, and inside, she could see the small light of candlelight. Carefully, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was filled with old artifacts—books, paintings, and chests kept irregularly. In the center of the room, Paul stood with his back to her, his hands resting on a designed chest. He seemed lost in thought, unaware of her presence.

Olivia's heart pounded as she watched him. The chest was beautiful, designed from dark wood with lovely designs placed on its surface. But what caught her attention most was the engraving on the handle: her name.

Why is my name on it? she thought, her curiosity increased.

Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward. "Paul."

He turned around, surprised, his eyes showing his surprise when he saw her. "Olivia! You shouldn't be here."

"I could say the same to you," she answered back instantly, her gaze shifted to the chest. "What is that? And why does it have my name on it?"

Paul stepped in front of the chest, as though to cover it from her view. "This is none of your concern."

"Everything about this is my concern," she said, her voice rising. "You've been keeping secrets from me my entire life. I deserve to know the truth."

Paul's jaw remained firm, but he didn't move. "You need to leave, Olivia. Now."

Olivia's frustration further increased again. "No, I'm not leaving until you tell me the truth and what is in that chest."

When Paul didn't respond, she took a bold step forward and used her weight with force to move him aside. His reluctance to allow her to look at the chest only made her more certain that whatever was inside the chest was important.

She ignored the reluctance and knelt in front of the chest and moved her fingers over the engraving of her name. The metal handle was rusted but still functional. With a determined force, she lifted the opening.

Inside, she found a collection of old, faded papers and a necklace. But one item immediately caught her attention: a crumpled piece of paper with a drawing on it.

She pulled it out and unfolded it carefully. The drawing was simple, clearly done by a child's hand, but it made her whole body shiver immediately. It was the Weaver's mark—the same curl and stars she had seen in the Threads of Eternity and on the crest she found in the archives.

Her hands kept shaking as she continued looking at the drawing. "This… this is mine, isn't it?" she whispered, looking up at Paul.

Paul's expression was firm his shoulders dropping in his acceptance of defeat. "Yes," he admitted quietly. "You drew that when you were very young."

Olivia's mind raced. She couldn't remember ever drawing this, but the paper felt familiar, as though it were a piece of a long-forgotten memory.

"How?" she asked, her voice shaking. "How did I know this symbol? I didn't even know about the Weaver until recently."

Paul hesitated, his face was filled with guilt. "You don't remember because… it's part of what we had to protect you from. You were connected to the Weaver long before you could even understand what it meant."

"Connected how?" she asked. "What does this symbol have to do with me?"

Paul shook his head. "I can't explain everything right now. But you have to trust me, Olivia. Everything we've done—everything we've kept from you—has been to keep you safe."

"Safe from what?" she asked further with tears filled in her eyes. "Safe from myself? From the Weaver? Tell me the truth, Paul!"

Before he could answer, the room suddenly shifted.

The air became heavy, and the small hum sound Olivia had felt earlier increased. The walls seemed to be shining, and the edges of the room became blurry as though reality itself was beginning to show forth.

"What's happening?" Olivia asked, panic growing in her chest.

Paul's expression darkened. "The castle is reacting to you. It's tied to the Weaver, just like you are. Your discovery… it's destabilizing everything."

The ground beneath them kept shaking, and a crack appeared on the floor they were standing. The artifacts in the room were also scattered, some falling to the ground.

"Olivia, we have to go," Paul said with urgency, he grabbed her arm.

"No!" she said, pulling her hand away. "Not until you tell me the truth. Why is the castle reacting to me? What aren't you telling me?"

"I don't have time to explain now!" he shouted, his voice firm. "If we don't leave now, this entire wing could collapse."

But Olivia didn't move. Her eyes were fixed on the chest, on the drawing in her hand. She could feel the threads of fate pulling at her, pushing her to uncover more, to continue with her findings.

Before she could make a decision, the ground had a violent shaking, and the room began to crumble around them.

Paul grabbed her hand, his grip firm. "Olivia, please!"

As the walls began to collapse, Olivia held onto the drawing to her chest. Her mind was mixed with both questions and fears, but one thought rose above the chaos:

Whatever the truth is, I'm going to find it. Even if it destroys me.

And with that, Paul dragged her out of the room, the forbidden wing collapsing after they left.