Chapter 3.

"Your Majesty," the scarred man bowed. "Victory is ours once more. May you live long—"

"Get to the point," the beauty on the throne cut the man off, his deep alluring voice making Dua's skin tingle.

"Yes, Your Majesty," the man responded with another bow. "Right here..." he gestured towards Dua, "... is the one thing we've been searching for."

"She has the sacred mark too," he added.

Dua spiraled into confusion. They had mentioned the sacred mark again. What mark?

The King studied Dua, his sharp, dark orbs piercing through her like he was searching for something deep in her soul.

Dua found herself glued to his dazzling features, her breath catching in her throat the longer his gaze lingered on her.

Finally he looked away from her, and to the scarred man, he spoke, "show me the mark."

The scarred man grabbed Dua roughly, pulling down her sleeve, her shoulder and arm was exposed, revealing her tattoo.

The King's eyes widened with recognition, his fists clenching and unclenching in a split second. And that, Dua didn't miss.

"Good job," the King commended the scarred man who gave a slight bow, a grin plastered on his face.

Now, Dua knew better than to speak. "Hold on a sec," she rose to her feet. Her fear clawed at her throat, threatening to stay quiet, but she pushed through, and spoke. "I don't know what you all think, and I'm not interested in knowing, but I'm really not the person you think I am."

"Sacred mark?" Dua scoffed. "I have no sacred mark. "This is just a tattoo I got done by an artist so please..." she put her hands together in a pleading position. "... please let me go, okay?"

The King studied her once more, Dua blinking nervously at him.

"Guard!" He finally called, and Dua's face lit up with relief and excitement.

The doors opened and a guard walked in. Filled with so much excitement for her freedom, Dua waved at the guard, gesturing for him to walk faster.

Ths guard stopped at the foot of the raised platform where the King's throne sat. "Your Majesty," he bowed.

"Take her to one of the guestrooms," the King ordered, and everything shattered for Dua.

"What?!" She burst, facing the King. "No... I don't think you understood me properly. I'm not the person you're all looking for, and for that reason you need to let me go. I have a sick father who I have to get meds for, and a nagging sister who would tear me down if anything goes wrong. If you're worried about me having to go back home late at night, you don't have to worry. I can manage by myself really," she spoke fastly, rushing her words.

"Take her," the King commanded.

"To my home, right?" She inquired.

"Have you no manners?" The scarred finally spoke again. "How dare you question His Majesty's order?!"

"Because I'm not the person you all are looking for, and I really need to get home now plus he's only a King to you all, not to me," Dua responded.

"You..." the scarred man raised his hand to hit Dua.

Dua cowered a little, turning her face, and shrinking as she awaited the impact of his hit.

"Don't," the King's voice rang and the scarred man paused midway to Dua's face.

"Your Majesty," the scarred man pressed.

"She'll die soon anyway," the King responded.

Dua's eyes widened as she turned immediately, facing the King, her whole being trembling now in fear. "Please..." she begged. "Please, do not kill me. I really am not who you think I am. You got the wrong person."

"What are you waiting for? Take her!" The scarred man said to the guard standing just a foot away from Dua.

The guard gripped Dua's hand tightly, dragging her off. She struggled, shouting and pleading for her life but it only fell on deaf ears.

The guard’s grip was firm, unyielding, as he dragged Dua through the long corridors.

"Let me go!" she struggled, her voice breaking. "Please! I didn’t do anything!" She pleaded but got no response. Her pleas echoed against the cold walls and died there.

Her heart pounded wildly, her chest tightening with every step they took deeper into the castle.

"She’ll die soon anyway." The King’s words replayed in her head, over and over again.

"Die? What does he mean by that?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

The guard said nothing.

They turned another corner, and another. The castle that once looked beautiful now felt suffocating, and endless like there was no way out.

Finally, they stopped in front of a door. The guard pushed it open and dragged her inside before releasing her.

Dua stumbled forward, catching herself on the edge of a large bed.

The room was... beautiful, too beautiful. Soft curtains, polished floors, a grand bed that looked like something out of a dream. But to her, it felt like a cage.

"No..." she shook her head slowly, backing away. "No, no, no..."

She turned to the guard. "Please, you have to listen to me. I don’t belong here."

All she got in response was silence.

"Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone anything, I swear!"

The guard didn’t even look at her. He simply stepped out, and shut the door with a click, the sound echoing louder than it should have.

Dua froze, then rushed to the door, pulling at it desperately but it was locked.

"Hey!" She yelled. "Open this!" She banged against it. "Open the door!"

Nothing happened, not even a single different sound or a footstep approached. Not even a voice.

Her hands slowly dropped, her breathing growing uneven.

Her back slid down against the door until she sank to the floor, tears burning her eyes. "What is happening to me…?" she whispered.

Her gaze slowly drifted to her arm, to the tattoo. The same one they had called a sacred mark.

Her fingers trembled as she traced the delicate branch. "This…?" she muttered. "This is just a tattoo..."

Her confusion heightened. The King’s reaction flashed in her mind. The way his eyes changed, the way his fists clenched, and that look... like he had been waiting for her.

Dua swallowed hard, her chest tightening. "No..." she shook her head again. "This doesn’t make any sense."

But deep down, something felt horribly, dangerously real.