Page 20 of Castle of the Cursed
I approach the Y-shaped passage. Last night, I found the mirror room in the left wing, and as much as I want to know what lies beyond it, I’d rather not slice my feet open. So I take a right turn instead.
I feel my calves tighten as I walk, the passage descending. The air grows mustier and earthier as the crimson corridor spills into a dusty salon void of furniture or adornment. Yet the scratches and punctures on the walls show the space wasn’t always this empty.
I keep counting steps as I cut across another room that’s been equally hollowed out, and another and another. The barren spaces are echo chambers, doorless and windowless and featuring entryways with pointed arches.
The chilly floor grows thick and warm beneath my feet as I step on an old, prickly rug. The fabric scratches at my socks, even more uncomfortable than the cold stone floor. The crimson rug ends at a wooden door with metal hinges.
When I turn the handle, I see what I can best describe as a windowless cathedral.
The space looks infinite. Rows upon rows of stone pillars blossom into ribbed vaulting. The candle-like fixtures are bracketed high up, leaving the ground in shadow. And as I walk across the floor, the reddish light above me goes out.
I take another step, and the next one shuts off, so I stop walking altogether.
All the lights burn out at once.
I hear my intake of breath as blackness blots the air, and while I wait for my vision to adjust, I feel the shadow beast before I see him—a sign he’s my own creation.
The small hairs on my skin ripple with his presence, and I break into a run. I keep my arms outstretched in front of me so I don’t crash into a column, determined to make it past this room.
My hands flatten against cold stone, and the impact jolts through me. I feel my way along, but it’s a wall. This is a dead end.
A flash of silver blasts across the room, blinding me for several seconds. When the brightness dims to a couple of small orbs, I see his shadowy form taking shape.
A gargoyle come to life.
The reddish lights flicker back on, illuminating him. He could be a teen or in his early twenties; and yet, the starry galaxies of his eyes contain universes.
They glimmer and fade like they’re powered by their own light source.
He’s in a crisp suit that both emphasizes his muscular frame and obscures it, the fabric so inky black that it casts shadows around him. He’s either the world’s wealthiest man or the Devil himself.
Somehow, my face seems to hold his interest as well because he’s studying me back just as intensely. As if he recognizes me, too.
And even though I know he can’t be real, my heart catapults to my throat.
BOOM.
The silver eyes narrow.
BOOM.
The razor-sharp jawline tilts to a 45-degree angle.
BOOM.
His gaze drops to my chest. Like he can hear my heartbeats.
“Me estás viendo.”
Exquisite. I’ve never used the word before, yet it flies into my mind now, as I hear him speak. As if the flawless face, powerful frame, and expensive clothes weren’t enough, his voice is as deep as the earth and as soothing as the ocean’s surf.
He’s too large to exist. Undoubtedly, he’s my greatest creation.
I just wish I knew what he was saying.
“You can see me.” This time he speaks English; I guess my wish is his command.
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. The shadow beast’s eyebrows quirk up. “You can hear me, too?”
