THE REALM WITHOUT A NAME

Part 16 🕷️: What Waited Beneath

“I don’t know. I just… followed a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

His eyes narrowed, just slightly.

“Out of all the halls in this castle…you chose that one.”

“I wasn’t choosing, I was—”

“Wandering.”

His voice cut in, but not loud.
It was the kind of interruption that didn’t wait for your permission.

“Do you know how many doors in this place would kill to be opened?” he asked.
“And yet you found the one that never should’ve been seen.”

I stepped back.
Just enough to breathe.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“You did.”

His eyes locked on mine — not furious.

“Every step you take here answers to you now,” he said.
“Even when you think you’re just wandering.”

The silence wrapped around us again.
He didn’t move.
But the pressure in the air made it feel like the walls had shifted —like the castle was listening.

I crossed my arms, not to defy him,
but to hold myself still.

“Then lock it,” I said. “If it’s so dangerous, lock the door.”

He didn’t answer.
Just looked away.
Down the corridor I came from.

“I’ll seal it,” he murmured.

“Good.”
I turned to leave.
But then—
quietly—

“Lu.”
I stopped.

“Don’t go there again.”

Not a warning.
Not a threat.
Just… an order.

And for once,
I didn’t feel like testing him.

---

I woke up to birds.

Not shadows.
Not red skies.
Not the feeling of being watched by something wordless.
Just… morning.

Sunlight bleeding through my window,
warm, yellow, wrong.
At first, I didn’t think much of it.

But the next night—I closed my eyes,
reached for the place that always took me in…And found nothing.
Just sleep.

Three nights passed, then four, then a week. Every time I slipped beneath the covers, I held my breath—
waiting for the realm to pull me back in.

It never came.

He never came.

I tried whispering into the dark.

“I didn’t mean to disobey.”
“I didn’t know it was forbidden.”
“Say something. Please.”
Nothing answered.
Not even in dreams.

The days felt too long.  The nights are too-perfect silent. I wasn’t mourning a place —I was mourning a presence.

Him.

His silence felt deliberate now.
Like he wasn’t just gone…He was keeping me away.

On the ninth night, I cried. Quiet.
Tucked under the blanket like a child.
Hand pressed against my chest as if I could reach for him through my ribs.

“Why won’t you let me in?” I whispered.

“Why did you shut the door?”

There was no reply.
But somehow, I knew—He could still hear me. He just didn’t want to answer.

---
It came when I was half-asleep.

The ninth night.
Eyes swollen from quiet crying,
chest sore from how tightly I’d held myself.

Just a whisper.
Just a breath where none should be—

“Lu.”

And the dark swallowed me whole.

I gasped awake.
But it wasn’t my room, It wasn’t my bed.
It wasn’t even a dream.

It was the floor.
Cold stone beneath my knees.
Soft mist curling at my ankles And him.
Right in front of me.
Watching.

I didn’t speak I couldn’t.

My breath hitched,
and I realized too late—my face was wet.

Tears, dried and fresh.
A stain of longing, shame, and something harder to name.

He stepped forward, slowly.

And when he finally spoke—

“Why did you cry?”
That broke me all over again.

I bowed my head...Just to hide.
But his fingers — faint, cold — touched my chin and lifted it.

I met his eyes.

They weren’t angry.
They weren’t soft.

“You didn’t say goodbye,” I whispered.

“I didn’t want to.”

“You locked me out.”

“I needed to.”

I blinked.
“Are you still angry?”

He shook his head.
“No. Just…”
“Careful.”

And that was all.

Just that one word,
and his hand still beneath my chin.
Holding me like I might vanish if he let go.

I didn't ask if I could follow him.
I just did. From room to corridor.
From stairwell to silent courtyard.

If he turned, I turned.
If he paused, I froze.
If he vanished around a corner—
I was already chasing.

He didn’t speak.
Didn’t stop me.
Didn’t ask why I was always just a breath behind.

But he noticed.
Of course he did.

Sometimes he walked more slowly,
as if waiting.
Sometimes faster,
as if testing me.

I kept pace no matter what.

He visited places I hadn’t seen before—
a chamber made entirely of black glass,
a hallway lined with velvet portraits that blinked when I passed,
a room where it rained from the ceiling but never touched the floor.

I didn’t care where he was going.
I only cared that I was with him.

The creatures began to notice.
One slithered up beside me and whispered:

“Careful... the more you follow, the less you’ll remember how to stop.”
I ignored it.
Because it was already true.

Then one day,
he turned around without warning.

We were halfway across a shadow bridge that arched over a bottomless nothing.

He stopped.
I stopped.

He looked at me. Not annoyed. Just... quietly knowing.

“Do you think I’ll vanish again?”

My breath caught.
“Yes,” I said.

He blinked once—slowly.
“Then I won’t.”

And he kept walking.
I followed.
Of course I did.