Chapter 11: The Uninvited Guest

Lena walked briskly through the halls of the ancient castle, her mind still buzzing with adrenaline from her training session. The cold stone walls echoed her footsteps as she made her way toward her room. The crossbow she had used earlier was slung carelessly over her shoulder, and she couldn't help but smirk at her own performance.

*Perfect aim. As usual.*

Her thoughts were interrupted by a faint feeling—a presence, lingering in the shadows. She turned, but saw no one. *Probably just my imagination,* she thought, shaking her head.

But the feeling didn't fade. It only grew stronger.

As she stepped into her room and closed the door behind her, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She walked over to the bed and began removing her bow and gear, her movements slow but deliberate.

Just then, she heard the faintest creak of the door opening, and before she could turn around, it was already too late.

He was standing there.

The *Night King*.

She froze for a moment. She hadn't heard him enter, hadn't even felt him approach. But there he was—tall, imposing, and bathed in an eerie, shadowy glow. His dark cloak swirled around him like liquid midnight.

"You…" She couldn't help herself. She raised an eyebrow, completely unbothered. "You can't knock, just because you're a king?"

The Nght King gaze was cold, unreadable, but his lips twitched slightly as if he was amused by her bluntness. He stepped closer, and with every inch he moved, the air around them seemed to get heavier, more charged.

"Knocking isn't necessary when I can enter anywhere I please," he replied smoothly, his voice like dark velvet.

Lena crossed her arms and tilted her head. She wasn't intimidated. She wasn't even slightly impressed. *What was it about this guy?*

"You really are something else, aren't you?" she muttered, pacing to the window and looking out at the moonlit sky.

He observed her in silence, his eyes narrowing slightly, a mixture of curiosity and intrigue flickering in his gaze. He wasn't here to get into a verbal sparring match with her—at least, not yet.

Instead, he took a few slow steps toward her. The air between them seemed to thrum with a dangerous energy. As he neared, his fingers twitched ever so slightly, and before Lena could even react, he reached out, his hand gently cupping her chin, lifting it to meet his eyes.

Lena stiffened, her breath catching at the sudden proximity. His touch was cold—unnaturally cold—but it sent a jolt through her body nonetheless. His eyes locked onto hers, unblinking, studying her with a piercing intensity that made her feel like he could see straight into her soul.

"You," he said, his voice soft but filled with something darker, something unspoken. "Why are you so... special?"

Lena didn't respond right away. The question was so direct, so loaded, that she couldn't help but feel a slight shift inside her chest. But she quickly shook it off.

*Why would he ask me that?*

She wasn't one for games, and she wasn't going to start now.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, her voice steady, but with an edge. "What makes you think I'm special?"

The Night King didn't answer immediately. He was still holding her chin, his thumb brushing lightly over her jaw. His eyes flickered briefly with something unreadable, but then he finally spoke.

"I've never met anyone like you," he said, his voice quieter this time, almost thoughtful. "And I think you might be the key to something... far bigger than you realize."

Lena mind was racing now. This King was *dangerous*, that much was clear. But what did he mean by "the key"? And why did his presence make her feel like she was standing on the edge of something monumental?

Before she could respond, his hand slipped away from her chin, his cold fingers trailing briefly over her skin as he stepped back.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts for now," he said, his tone shifting back to its usual detached edge. "But I came to ensure you're prepared for what's coming. You'll need every ounce of strength you can muster."

Lena opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand, cutting her off.

"I brought extra blankets for you," he added casually. "Tonight will be a cold one. The night has a way of making everything... clearer. Be prepared."

Lena blinked, confused. "How do you know that?"

His lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Why am I called the Night King?" he asked cryptically, his eyes glinting with something more than amusement.

Before Lena could answer, he turned and started walking toward the door.

"Cover yourself well," he said, not even bothering to look back. "You won't want to catch a chill. I'll see you tomorrow."

Lena stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at the door as it closed softly behind him. Her heart was pounding. *What the hell was that about?*

The sudden shift in the atmosphere left her feeling unsettled. She wasn't sure if it was his cryptic words or the unnerving way he made her feel, but something deep in her gut told her that the Night King was more than just a powerful figure.

He was a mystery. And she was now tangled in it.

As Lena stood there in silence, the faintest flicker of thought crossed her mind—a thought so sudden, so raw, that it caught her completely off guard.

*What if... what if this isn't just a test?*

She shook her head, dismissing the thought as quickly as it had come. But the thought lingered, buzzing at the edge of her consciousness. Was she truly just another pawn in a game she couldn't even see?

Was she... *the key* to something more?

A sudden realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place—fragments of visions, whispered conversations she'd overheard, and the strange aura that had surrounded her ever since arriving at the castle

*What if the Night King isn't just observing me... What if he's waiting for me to unlock whatever this is within me?*