The Secret

Five, how many strides I took past the corridor to make it to the dingy elevator in the Inn I had just arrived in. Exhaustion overtook me, but I couldn't sleep. The sun shone brightly, casting its rays from the expansive casement windows. 

Three, that's how many hours I slept on the plane from my current hometown to the Island. The pristine mountains overshadowed the city's beauty, which was an understatement of the scenic buildings that attracted the tourists year-round. The lake shimmered, reflecting the sun's rays, and glowing a transcendent turquoise like a desktop photo. 

Two, the number of nights I could stay in my hometown after I walked in on the night that would change my life forever. Somberly, I pressed the button on the elevator to go to the main floor. A nice restaurant in the lobby catered to Indian Cuisine, but I wasn't feeling hungry. Just jet-lagged and beaten. 

If I stayed in the hotel room any longer, I wouldn't be able to breathe as I replayed the scene repeatedly in my head. I had to leave, do anything, distract myself somehow. I didn't know how. 

It had been years that I had relied on him. I didn't know how to distract myself without him. Didn't know who I was without him tethered to me. Co-dependent, that's what I morphed into. 

The elevator doors opened, and I was immediately overwhelmed by the food smell. I felt sick all over again. 

I rushed out of the hotel lobby, hoping to get some air, urgently forcing my feet to take one step after another. I made it to the sidewalk when suddenly, a young boy on a bike almost ran me down.

He didn't, but I still fell regardless. Shame filled me; I was clumsy, and people stared at me. What was even worse was that my leggings had ripped, and my knee was bleeding onto them. 

Hurriedly, I got up and continued walking the picturesque street. I pretended I didn't notice the bleeding or the sharp pain that emitted harshly from my fall. I was curious to know how long I had walked for, or where I was, just that I had to keep distracting myself. 

A building caught my attention. It was rather odd, tinged a brownish orange. The building had elephants surrounding its oversized grandeur. Hindu and Mongolian depictions decorated the building with a tall tower stretching past the mountains. That the building stood out like a sore thumb was an understatement.  

The spiral staircase called out to me; curiosity bested me, and I walked onto the grounds of the building. There were a lot of people casually viewing the grounds. Couples cuddling, enjoying their lunch, having a picnic. Gross. Nasua crept up on me again, and I needed to get away. 

I took the stairs up to the palace, trying to steady myself. I didn't need to fall again. A sign presented itself at the top of the staircase near the entrance of the building. The Palace of Morty Loshin, thankfully donated by his great-grandson, Jules Loshin. 

Interesting names, I thought to myself. Bizarre architecture. Suddenly, I had to know more. I located the gate for the ticket sales, and 15 dollars later, 23 minutes in line, I had a ticket. 

Have you ever felt like your life was about to change? No, me either. It happened drastically, like that night two days ago. No hint or warning. 

I entered the palace, which was immaculate. Paintings covered every inch of the high ceiling walls. An enormous spiral staircase stood proudly in the center of the building, covered with a beige cashmere material. It was an odd choice of colour, but just as the cashmere had looked like it was preserved from its original time, so did the entirety of the palace. 

The ceiling was breathtaking; the light came in from the open ceiling windows, cascading onto the floor, almost appearing to be dancing from their shimmer. Outlining the windows were paintings done in pastel; they depicted war and love. Individuals fighting in battles. Lovers caught in each other's embrace. Lightning overshadows the chaos, and a flock of doves reveals the newfound peace. 

Never had I seen such paintings tell such a story vividly, without any words or descriptions. I never felt transformed into this new world, one I knew nothing about. It's history, one that was never shared with me, or I was never taught. A place as haunting as it was glorious, flickering a glance of a truth that was long lost.  

Just like that, I felt it. My breath hitched in my lungs. The room suddenly felt too small, impossible because I couldn't even begin to describe its enormity. I felt someone, unsure who. I looked around, scanning the passersby. No one stood out of the ordinary. Nonetheless, I felt the change.  

"You're bleeding on the floor," a deep voice rumbled inches away from my ear. Talk about personal space much. Who gets that close to a stranger, one who is even bleeding. That feeling I had earlier grew tenfold. 

"I fell," I said, simply shrugging my shoulder, trying to seem unaffected by this person's presence. He was a tall man with startling grey eyes and a rich head of deep brown, almost black locks. His jaw was chiseled, and he looked like he exercised in his spare time.

Absolutely not, I tried to close my mouth and stop gawking at the man. I, Kiya Fern, wouldn't be swayed by an attractive man in what only seems like the start of a romance novel. I would have

to learn from my mistakes; my mother named me after the Egyptian goddess Kiya, the second wife of a long-forgotten pharaoh, a surprise to the researchers and just as beautiful as any of her rivals. A warning not to let myself come in second, which I didn't learn from my prior predicament. This man was not going to captivate me in the slightest… 

"It's said to be haunted; blood is probably not good for the place. Probably will let the demons feast," the man's response caught my train of thought. His smirk was evident. 

What the… "First of all, there is no such thing as demons or hauntings. Your belief in something so absurd speaks volumes of your character." I replied hastily, trying to put an end to this conversation. 

"Suit yourself," he shrugged and walked to an outside terrace overlooking the lake. 

Well, that was odd. I explored the palace some more, taking in the extravagance of the place. When I felt thoroughly distracted, I decided it was time to go. Where? I had no idea, but it was time. 

I left the palace and walked out onto the same terrace the man was on earlier. Eerily, the air was crisp, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. The ground started to shake under me, I think. Then, the mountains began to sway. Wait, that couldn't be possible, but before logic could enter my thoughts, the blackness came, and I felt a thud before I was lost to the world. 

The smell of nighttime air wafted in from the window; it was colder and crisper than before. That's what I felt: cold, unable to move. Open your eyes, I whispered to myself internally. Come on, you can do it, I forced myself to lift my eyelid. 

Slowly, taking tiny breaths, I opened my eyes. The sun was no longer up, but the moon shone in its absence. Full and bright, commended by a plethora of stars. There were so many they looked like they were falling. It was breathtaking. 

Focus, I thought. My eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room, and I slowly looked around, trying to gather any hint of where I could be. I came to the Island early in the morning. I went for a walk until I found a…. PALACE. That's the last thing I remembered when- 

"Took you long enough," that voice rumbled from the darkness. The same one as before. That's when I finally took in my surroundings. I think I was still in the palace, in an enormous room, lying on the bed. Beside me was a grand armoire that didn't feel like it belonged in this century. 

Paintings also engulfed the walls here, but the ceiling was all glass. Odd, it didn't look like that outside when I was viewing the place. But that's why I could see the stars in their entirety. They called me. 

I looked around the room at the paintings, where a story unfolded. A servant man worked long hours trying to appease his oppressor. Then he glanced at her, just once. Born of high royalty, she noticed him as well. They stared at each other in the next painting, like there was nothing else in the world, only then. 

She didn't see him again for a long time, so she took it upon herself to find him. She asked her dear father to round up all the kingdom's slaves because she desperately needed a new one and wanted one that was just as cherished by their owner. A rouse she cleverly concocted in hopes of finding that man again. 

Her father begrudgingly agreed, for he could not deny his only beloved daughter whatever her heart desired, especially because she was the heir to all that was renowned as his, including his mighty kingdom. 

Day after day, she waited for him to finally be presented. An odd man, Atlas, came to the viewing room with his servant. It was him, but the man was not only a servant but imprisoned due to his beliefs, of which he was born in this imprisonment, inheriting his faith and sentence. 

"I want him," she commended with authority in her voice. Something that was envied by other women of lower rank. Her father was stricken.

"He is not of our faith. It would be a crime to bring him into our dwellings," he tried to say, but she wouldn't have it. 

"I want him, you're all dismissed." Just like that, she was left in a room, alone with him for the first time. 

Although enslaved, he stood prouder than any man born of higher status in royalty. He stretched out his arm, and his fingers caressed my cheek. 

"They will not be happy with that encounter," he whispered to her, afraid anyone would hear them. 

Relief flooded her. He remembered her then. She wouldn't have to try to earn his favour when it was so evident that he was just as entranced by her as she was in him. "It is I who is not pleased with these circumstances. I have worked for years trying to abolish this abhorrent slavery, this law passed by nobles and royals alike who deserve to be put down like the hounds they embody." 

They were transformed into her bed chamber, which he frequently visited secretly. He held her in his arms, "I can't bear the nights I'm without you. It's a torcher that is eating me alive, and I'm afraid I will succumb to my feelings and lay my heart bare for the whole world to see that it does, in fact, only beat for you, my sweet love," he whispered sweet serenades into her ear, as he held her tightly in his arms. Afraid of the day he wouldn't be able to cherish this precious being. 

For you see, there was a war brewing on the outskirts of the kingdom. Someone caught hold of the rumour of the royal heiress's affair with her one true love, and they saw this as a political power gained that could be gained for the throne so that they could wipe the royal family from existence. 

Then, that was it. Darkness, black, just as her vision had been overcome by it earlier. It's strange; Kiya felt like she had lived the storytelling of the paintings rather than viewing it as someone who had never witnessed such a tragic story before.  

Clearly, the palace had a mythological history, but it enclosed her entire being. She wanted to know more. "What happened to them?" She asked the stranger who had brought her here. Wait, here was one of the palace chambers. She was still in the palace. 

Panic overcame her speedy eyes, darting for an escape, "We can't be here," she proclaimed. "We'll get arrested for trespassing." She frantically tried to explain to the stranger. 

A hint of amusement shadowed his eyes but was clearly gone within the next second. "Their story is as tragic as it is filled with hope and love that never dies." He answered my first question. "As for trespassing, I'm not trespassing. I live here. You are here as my guest; therefore, also not trespassing." He said in a severe manner that had me utterly confused. 

"You live here? But what is the place to you?" she asked, allowing the confusion to reflect on her face. 

"This place is neither here nor there," he replied cryptically. "Yes, I do live here," he continued, "and I've been waiting a very long time for you." 

The End.