Chapter 5- Secret room

In the quiet embrace of dawn, as the first soft tendrils of sunlight began to dance across the horizon, a gentle hush settled over the world. The morning breeze whispered through the open window, carrying with it the fragrance of dew-kissed grass and the promise of a new day.

The cozy bedroom bathed in the golden glow of the rising sun, Rohan lay sleeping peacefully beneath a canopy of blankets. His tousled hair spilled over the pillow in a tangled mess, and a serene expression graced his features, softened by the innocence of slumber.

As the sunlight gently filtered through the curtains, casting dappled patterns of warmth across the room, he stirred ever so slightly, a contented sigh escaping his lips. With each breath, he seemed to be woven deeper into the fabric of dreams, enveloped in a realm where time held no sway and worries were but distant whispers.

Outside, the world began to stir, the gentle melodies of birdsong mingling with the rustle of leaves in the morning breeze. But within the sanctuary of his room, Rohan remained lost in the embrace of sleep, cradled in the arms of tranquility.

In that fleeting moment between night and day, the world seemed to hold its breath, as if caught in the spell of the Rohan's peaceful slumber. And as the morning sun continued its ascent, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, he slept on, his dreams a sanctuary from the cares of the waking world.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its gentle rays crept further into the room, coaxing him from the depths of sleep. With a soft flutter of his eyelids, he began to stir, slowly emerging from the cocoon of dreams that had enveloped him throughout the night.

His lashes fluttered open, revealing eyes that sparkled with the clarity of morning light. Stretching languidly, he arched his back, feeling the comforting warmth of the blankets enveloping him like a gentle embrace.

With a contented sigh, he sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair as he took in the soft hues of the sunrise painting the walls in shades of gold and rose. The world outside seemed to pulse with life, beckoning him to join in its symphony of awakening.

Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, the boy swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet meeting the cool wooden floor below. He glanced out the window, greeted by the sight of a world bathed in the soft glow of morning.

With a sense of anticipation tingling in his veins, he rose to his feet, ready to embrace the day that stretched out before him like a blank canvas waiting to be painted. 

As he took his first steps into the morning light, a smile graced the boy's lips, filling his heart with a sense of joy and wonder. 

As he stood by the window, basking in the gentle glow of the morning sun, a faint memory stirred at the edges of his consciousness, like a thread unraveling from the fabric of his dreams. With furrowed brow, he recalled the events of the previous night, a strange encounter that had left an indelible mark upon his mind ,that he had stumbled upon her—a figure cloaked in darkness, her form shrouded in mystery. The old hag, withered and bent with age, had beckoned to him with gnarled fingers, her voice a soft murmur upon the wind.

But what struck him most was her lack of eyes, two empty sockets that seemed to gaze into the depths of his soul with an otherworldly intensity. Despite the chill that crept down his spine, he had found himself drawn to her, unable to tear his gaze away from her haunting visage.

In that fleeting moment of connection, the old hag had spoken words that resonated deep within him, words of wisdom and warning, cloaked in riddles and half-truths. And then, as quickly as she had appeared, she had vanished into the shadows, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the echo of her cryptic message, when Avyaan had arrived. Now, bathed in the warmth of the morning light, the memory of the old hag lingered like a ghostly whisper in the back of his mind. What had she meant by her cryptic words? And why had she appeared to him in the dead of night, with no eyes to see and no voice to speak but with the power to stir his soul?

With a shake of his head, the boy pushed aside the lingering doubts and questions, choosing instead to focus on the beauty and possibility of the day ahead. But deep within his heart, he knew that the encounter with the old hag was not something he could easily forget, for it had sparked a curiosity and wonder that would follow him long into the days to come.

As the boy descended the stairs from his room, the comforting aroma of breakfast greeted him. His footsteps echoed lightly on the polished wooden floor as he made his way to the kitchen, anticipation fluttering in his chest like a bird eager to take flight.

But as he entered the cozy warmth of the kitchen, he noticed something out of place—a small piece of parchment resting atop the neatly arranged plates. With a curious frown, he reached out and picked up the note, unfolding it carefully to reveal the words inscribed upon its surface.

"Hi! Rohan,

 I had to leave early for class this morning. Breakfast is waiting for you on the table have made pancakes with a side of fresh fruit. Make sure to have it hot before it gets cold. "

A warm smile spread across the Rohan's face as he read the heartfelt words penned by his senior. With a sense of gratitude swelling in his heart, he took a seat at the table, savoring each bite of his breakfast as he reflected on the message left behind. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the kitchen and the love of those who cared for him, he felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination, ready to face whatever challenges the day might bring.

After finishing his breakfast, Rohan's curiosity stirred once more, leading him to explore the familiar corridors of the house with renewed vigor. As he wandered through the rooms, his gaze fell upon his senior's closed door, a sudden intuition tugging at his senses.

With a sense of intrigue tugging at his heartstrings, he approached the door, his hand hovering over the smooth surface before he gently turned the handle. The door creaked open, revealing his senior's room bathed in soft morning light.

As he stepped inside, his eyes swept across the familiar furnishings—the neatly made bed, the shelves lined with books, the desk cluttered with papers. But something seemed different, as if there were secrets waiting to be uncovered just beneath the surface.

His gaze lingered on a corner of the room, where a large tapestry adorned the wall, its rich colors and intricate patterns drawing him in like a moth to a flame. With hesitant steps, he approached the tapestry, his fingers trailing over the fabric as he searched for any hidden seams or openings.

And then, as if by magic, his touch revealed a concealed latch hidden within the folds of the tapestry. With a soft click, a hidden door swung open, revealing a secret chamber hidden within the walls of the room.

Heart pounding with excitement, he stepped into the dimly lit chamber, his eyes widening in wonder as he took in the sight before him. The room was filled with treasures—a collection of ancient artifacts, mysterious trinkets, and faded parchment scrolls, each whispering of a bygone era.

But what caught his attention most was a peculiar chest nestled in the corner of the room, its weathered wood adorned with intricate carvings and symbols of unknown origin. With trembling hands, he reached out and lifted the lid, revealing a trove of secrets hidden within.

Among the treasures lay a journal, its pages filled with the musings and discoveries of a god , each entry a testament to a life lived with passion and purpose. As he flipped through the pages, Rohan felt a sense of connection with the person mentioned in the journal as if he were peering into the depths of his soul.

With a sense of reverence, he closed the journal and carefully replaced it within the chest, knowing that he had stumbled upon something precious and sacred.

As the Rohan's gaze swept across the hidden chamber, his eyes fell upon another door tucked away in the shadows, its surface adorned with ancient symbols that seemed to pulse with unseen energy, as if the door held the key to a mystery waiting to be unraveled.

Approaching the door with cautious reverence, he reached out to touch its smooth surface, feeling a tingling sensation dance across his fingertips. He could sense that this door was no ordinary portal—it was imbued with powerful magic, sealed by forces beyond his understanding.

With a furrowed brow, he pondered the meaning behind the symbols etched into the door, their intricate patterns hinting at a hidden significance. He knew that this door held secrets that were meant to be guarded, secrets that could only be unlocked by someone possessing great strength and wisdom.

Rohan raised his hand and pressed it against the surface of the door.

And then, in a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, the door began to open a portal, its ancient mechanisms stirring to life with a faint click. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the door swung open, revealing a path shrouded in mystery and possibility. Emerging from his senior's room, Rohan felt a sense of exhilaration tinged with a lingering sense of wonder. The secrets he had uncovered within the hidden chamber still danced in his mind, making him confused and curious about the seniors true form or self.

As he fastened the buttons of his shirt and laced up his shoes, his thoughts drifted to the mysteries he had uncovered in his senior's room—the hidden chamber, the ancient artifacts, the door imbued with powerful magic. With a final glance in the mirror to ensure that he appeared presentable, Rohan gathered his belongings and made his way to the door for his afternoon class.