Free The Secret Room by Antonia Michaelis

he was doing it, I caught a glimpse of his huge, gleaming fangs and the inside of his mouth—red as blood and red as the tiles on his throne.
    After he was finished with his paw, he looked at me again—this time with his head tilted to one side and a weary interest in his eyes. His eyes were the same ones he had had as an eagle, yellow and glowing and cruel.
    â€œSo you came to free your brother?” he asked. “Did you think that I didn’t know that you were on your way here? Did you think that I hadn’t seen you flying through the sky with the birds? Did you think that I hadn’t made sure that you would get through the palace garden safely? And did you think I hadn’t heard what my little friends in the cages whispered to you?”
    I still couldn’t say anything. I just stood there and stared at the Nameless One and trembled. But this time it wasn’t because of the cold.
    It was fear that made me tremble.
    Yes, I was afraid. I was so afraid that my mind froze, so afraid that I just had one thought left: Turn around. Run away.
    I didn’t have an ounce of bravery left—maybe I had never had any. But I couldn’t run away. Not anymore. There was nowhere I could have run to.
    â€œYour journey ends here,” said the Nameless One with a chuckle. “You know that. Am I right? You knew it the whole time, just like me.”
    He stood up, stretched, and gave a long yawn, like cats do.
    Then he slowly climbed down from his throne and walked over to me on his immaculately white, velvet paws. Dark red puddles, like pools of blood, formed where they touched the floor.
    I wanted to run, but fear had frozen me to the ground where I was standing.
    â€œYou knew,” he repeated. “And you still came.” Now he was very close and looked down at me from above.
    â€œThat’s brave,” he said. “Or stupid.”
    And then he lifted his giant front paw. The pristine claws flashed above me.
    I forced my mind to unfreeze, forced myself to start thinking again.
    What did I have that I could use to defend myself?
    The feather! If I did it right, I might be able to drive its sharp tip into his face ... I raised my hand and then I saw that it wasn’t a feather that I held between my fingers. It had changed forms along with its master. It was no more than a soft, fleecy tuft of white fur that I held up in the air to defend myself.
    The Nameless One threw his head back, his long, white mane flying around him, and laughed. He laughed a ghastly laugh, long and booming and aware of all the power that he possessed. If it had been possible for me to feel more afraid than I already was, I definitely would have then.
    While he was still laughing, he pounced.
    I automatically threw myself to one side, and he missed me with his first leap. But he caught me on his second one, and his giant claws made a scratch along the whole length of my right leg. I didn’t feel any pain, I was too afraid, but I could feel the blood running down my leg. It was surprisingly warm in contrast to the freezing cold around me. I climbed to my knees and managed to slip through his big white paws like a bar of soap—I was just too small for him to grab onto easily.

    It was crazy, but as the Nameless One was leaping at me for the third time, I was wondering whether my blood was warm enough to give off steam. And I wondered if the wisps of fog on the ceiling of the huge room had all come from the warmth of steaming blood—the steaming blood of all the people who had chosen to come here to free their brothers and sisters, the people who hadn’t succeeded.
    Then the gigantic white body was above me again and one glimpse into his eyes was enough to erase every thought in my mind. They burned holes in my heart and pierced my soul like glowing daggers.
    This time he had me.
    He set his paw on my chest and pressed me to the floor so hard that I couldn’t breathe.
    â€œSo,” he