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Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: The Name That Shouldn’t Be Spoken

Lena sat alone in the dim, towering chamber, the walls cold and laced with ancient carvings that whispered things she couldn't understand. Her head throbbed, not just from whatever drink she had back at the party, but from the overwhelming questions swirling in her mind.

How the hell did she get here?

Her fingers clenched the edge of the velvet bedding. She remembered the forest, the strange light… and *him*. That man. The one with mismatched eyes and a presence that made the air feel heavy.

Her stomach growled loudly.

"Great," she muttered. "Trapped in a creepy-ass castle and now I'm starving."

As if summoned, the heavy door creaked open. A young maid in a gray dress stepped in, carrying a tray stacked with varieties of food—grilled meats, fresh fruits, strange glowing bread-like things, and oddly blue soup.

Lena blinked. "Are these edible or spells?"

The maid only bowed her head shyly.

Lena sat up. "Do you… speak English?"

The maid nodded slowly. "Yes, my lady. Some."

"What's your name?"

"Mirna," the maid replied, voice quiet.

Lena's eyes narrowed as she took a bite of something surprisingly delicious. "Okay, Mirna. I need to know something. That man—the one with the crazy eyes… Who is he? What's his name?"

Mirna stiffened instantly, eyes darting toward the shadows of the room.

"You cannot speak his name," she whispered. "He hears it. Always."

Lena raised a brow. "Oh, what? Like Voldemort?"

The maid didn't laugh. Her knuckles went white around the edge of the tray.

"I'm serious," Mirna whispered. "His name is forbidden. Only the royals of the underrealm know it. Saying it summons him."

Lena, now more curious than ever, pressed, "But I need to know. What if I need to scream it if he's choking or something?"

Mirna shook her head fiercely. "No one screams his name. Please don't ask—"

Lena stood. "Fine. Then write it. I won't say it. Just… write it."

Mirna hesitated. But finally, she picked up a torn piece of parchment from the nightstand, dipped the quill in dark ink, and scribbled one name.

Lena's eyes scanned the letters slowly.

It looked ancient. It sounded darker than night itself. Something inside her chilled just reading it.

She laughed to herself, setting the parchment under her plate. "Weird name for someone so hot."

Then it hit her.

The memory.

The glowing forest. Her dizzy steps. The silver crown on his head. The haunting stare. His cold touch on her face.

"I said something to him…" she whispered. "What was it?"

The pieces snapped together.

"Oh my god," she muttered. "That was real."

Heart racing, she stood up, knocking the plate slightly. The parchment slid free. She stared at the name again.

And said it aloud.

A gust of cold wind shot through the chamber, slamming the windows shut. Candles flickered. The mirror cracked.

And behind her, a voice like thunder wrapped in silk spoke—

"You called me."

Lena turned sharply

and saw him standing by her bed.

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