As I entered the hallway, turning in the direction of the library, my feet stilled. Something tugged at me, pulling me in the opposite direction. I peeked over my shoulder. The hallway was empty and dimly lit as if no one frequented this side of the castle. Biting my lip, I gave in to the curiosity, strolling down the abandoned hall.
Following it around the corner, I was met with a long, dusty hallway that led to a dead-end with a single black door, shrouded in shadows and worn with age. Slowly, I edged closer. The edges were splintered and a layer of thick dust clung to the top. Compelled forward, I tried the handle, and disappointment flooded me when it didn’t budge. Locked. I stepped back, contemplating whether I should leave, but hesitated, staring at the door.
Trying the handle one more time, I jiggled it. It clicked and turned, the door creaking as it opened. Adrenaline shot through me as I stepped across the threshold and a fire lit in the corner.
Just as I thought, it was an abandoned bed chamber.
Along the back wall was a window that overlooked the sea. But unlike every other window in the castle, it wasn’t protected by a spell. This one had two old, glass panes outlined in tarnished gold that clicked shut in the middle.
Cobwebs stretched across the upper corners of the room, and like the rest of the hallway, a thick coat of dust had settled over the furniture and floors. In the corner, a large sheet had been thrown over the bed. I gently slid it off, coughing as the dust bombarded me, and the sheet crumpled on the floor. Waving my hand to clear the air, my eyes immediately found the crest on the backboard.
My legs felt weak beneath me, my heart pounding in my ears as I gaped at it. With trembling hands, I reached up to run a finger along Vaelor’s crest. A bolt of lightning racing down to meet a sword.
When I touched it, my skin pricked with goosebumps and I jerked my hand back. Stumbling away from the bed, I backed into another piece of covered furniture, a table of some sort. I cautiously tugged the sheet off, revealing an old wooden desk. Tucked inside one of the drawers were old papers, notebooks, pens, vials of ink, and a sketch. My hands shook as I picked it up, already knowing who it would be.
Raising the picture, I was met with the soft smile of my mother. She was younger in the sketch, younger than I’d ever seen her, and it struck me how much we looked alike. Gently laying it on the desk, I reached to the back of the drawer and pulled out a notebook. Turning, I tugged another sheet off of the nearby chair and sat, flipping the book open to the first page. My breath hitched.
My dearest Elora…
I snapped the notebook closed, suddenly feeling like an intruder and tears pricked my eyes. Walking back to the desk, I picked up another book and returned to the chair. My mouth parted as I opened it, reading the notes detailing Vaelor’s own power. Flipping through the pages, there was entry after entry detailing his experiences with his magic and his reign.
The pages stopped on a random entry.
My magic seems to have a mind of its own lately. When she is around, it loses all sense of control. I have no will over it, whether it be rain or lightning. Even the electricity at my fingertips sparks for her. I have no control and it’s maddening. This woman is maddening.
My eyes blurred with tears and I closed the book before they could drop onto the pages. Lifting my eyes, I found a painting above the fireplace. My throat tightened, fighting off the tears, as I stared. It was Vaelor and my mother. They were standing close to each other, my mother smiling at the artist while Vaelor smiled at her. Both of their faces beamed and I could feel the warmth of the love they shared. It was written in their countenance, the way his arm wrapped around her waist, the way she laid her hand on his arm and leaned into his shoulder.
She… She loved him. They loved each other.
Silent tears streamed down my face as I studied the painting through blurred eyes.
I don’t know how long I sat, staring. But as I glanced out the window, the sun was lowering in the sky and heavy clouds were rolling in to meet it. As I stood, stiffness popped in my joints and I reached up, stretching. I started to turn towards the door, but my eyes caught on the closet.
The closet.
My heart stopped for a split second and then it was thundering in my ears. My vision tunneled and I couldn’t look away.
My mother.
That closet.
I couldn’t form full thoughts. The room swayed around me and my eyes involuntarily dropped to the floor, searching for evidence. But there was nothing. The floor was bare, just cold, gray stone. No rugs. No blood.
No sign of the murder. But the closet.
My eyes slowly raised back to it and the thought of my mother hiding in there, watching helplessly as the man she loved was butchered. My eyes found the painting again. The love. The happiness. Safety.
Feeling dizzy as my chest tightened, I turned back to the closet. On shaky knees, I slowly stepped to the side, as if I could skirt around it and leave the memory hanging over the room undisturbed. I took another slow step before turning, snatching the journal, and darting from the room. I swung the door closed behind me and vaguely heard the door click shut as I hurried down the hallway.
A cold sweat broke out along my spine and the thundering in my ears drowned out the sounds of my frenzied steps. As I passed Iaso’s chambers, I jerked to a halt.
This journal, this day, was not something I wanted to dwell on right now. I needed something, anything, before the overwhelming emotion welling in my chest imploded, taking the castle with it.
I clenched and unclenched my fists, taking a deep breath before bringing a hand to the door. Hesitating for a moment, I knocked lightly and opened the door, peeking my head through.
“Iaso?”
“Over here, child,” she hummed, stepping in from the greenhouse, smiling as she wiped her hands on her apron.