Barracks (War of Hearts)

35- Ancient

In the dimly lit room, I remain frozen as she slips away, her footsteps fading into the distance. The envelope clutched in my trembling hand contains secrets—words that could unravel everything. I dare not open it again; the weight of its contents presses against my chest.

The events of last night replay in my mind, each detail etched like a scar. Cecile said that the secret door starts here. Was it all a dream? The shelf stands there, an unyielding witness to my desperation. I've seen it before, its wooden surface worn and familiar. My fingers trace the edges, seeking answers. And then, at the base, a hidden mechanism—a foot pedal. I press it, and the shelf shifts, revealing a narrow passageway.

I step inside, heart pounding. The walls swallow sound, cocooning me in secrecy. Faint light seeps through cracks in what appear to be boarded-up windows. A secret path awaits, promising safety or peril—I can't be sure.

Following my instincts, I ascend stairs, twist through corridors, and climb more stairs. The air grows colder, and the scent of ancient wood fills my nostrils. Finally, I reach a door—an old friend, oddly familiar. I hesitate, then push it open.

And there, in the room beyond, lies the truth. My eyes adjust to the darkness, revealing a scene frozen in time. The past converges with the present, and I realize—I've been here before. But this time, the stakes are higher, the secrets deeper. Seconds stretch into eternity as I grapple with what awaits me. 

My trembling fingers trace the intricate patterns etched into the golden sofa. The room pulses with an unsettling energy, urging me to flee, but curiosity pins me in place. The candle's flame dances, casting elongated shadows on the walls.

I wander, my footsteps echoing off the cold stone floor. Flash memories surge—a forgotten laugh, a whispered promise. The room looms larger than any other in this ancient edifice. The canopy bed stands sentinel, its posts adorned with aqua and white fabrics that billow like secrets.

Outside, the night sky bleeds into the room, casting a cerulean glow. The window frames the moon, a silent witness to centuries of secrets. The carpet yields beneath my feet, its fibers whispering forgotten tales. The wallpaper, faded yet regal, tells stories of love and betrayal. And the tapestry—a woven mosaic of forgotten lives—hangs heavy, its threads binding past and present.

The walls bear witness to time itself. Frames cling to the stone, each holding a fragment of history. Faces stare out—strangers, ancestors, ghosts. Their eyes follow me, questioning. None of it makes sense, yet I'm drawn deeper.

And then, there they are: Cecile and Aldaire, side by side. The portrait captures a stolen moment—their gazes locked, a shared secret etched into their features. Aldaire, usually stoic, smiles with his eyes. Cecile's laughter echoes in the room, a melody I've never heard.

I inch closer, my breath catching. The candelabra warms my palm, wax seeping between my fingers but I can't feel it. The bond between them radiates, tangible and unyielding.

Emptiness, once a cavern within me, now swells with euphoria. I touch their faces, bridging the gap between past and present. 

My heartbeat thrums in my ears as I step toward the forbidden corner of the room. A door, similar to that of a closet, stands by itself—but I know it is not that. I push and it yields easily, revealing a narrow space—a secret room within a secret room. The room stretches out, its dimensions deceptive. A small bed is against one wall, while an imposing shelf stands sentinel across from it.

A long glass window spans the ceiling, its mirror-like surface capturing my intrusion. The outside world blurs, and I'm cocooned in this clandestine chamber. Above the bed hangs a solitary bulb, casting a warm glow.