𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘 . 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐓

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀Ć𝐄𝐒.

1995;

The following day seemed to possess a certain tranquility, unlike its predecessors. Viola couldn't help but attribute it to the preceding day's tumultuous events.

In a seemingly ritualistic manner, Druella and Cygnus found themselves seated in the grand dining room, partaking in their late lunch amidst an eerie silence. Truth be told, their plates were scarcely adorned, for Cygnus had already indulged in his customary chalices of wine, while Druella contented herself with a mere half cup of her white tea and a solitary slice of a meticulously sliced pear. Viola couldn't help but notice that this was a daily occurrence for her.

However, the silence that enveloped the atmosphere was far from the serene tranquility Viola sought. It was an unsettling stillness, one that sent shivers down her spine. Feeling the need for respite, she excused herself, yearning for a momentary escape - a leisurely stroll through the depths of the garden.

The garden, in all its somber glory, lacked the warm embrace of welcome. Instead, it seemed to be a sanctuary of withered blooms, littered with discarded twigs, while crows perched upon the branches, their presence adding to the sinister ambiance. It bore a resemblance to the Rosier manor, albeit without the touch of romantic elegance that the Rosier manor possessed, which was a manor with an art deco like aura, its crimson roses in full bloom, adorned with moving primordial paintings and statues.

Admist the desolation, one thing seized Viola's attention— the fountain that presided over the garden's heart. It stood as a forgotten relic, its once pristine form now cloaked in a layer of dust and decay. Devoid of water, its barren basin whispered of lost serenity. The statue of a man, perched atop the fountain, bore the scars of time. It's visage, though marred by a broken nose, still retained an air of dignified grace. The chiseled features, weathered and worn.

The sight before her mirrored the very essence of her imagination, akin to the vivid portrayals she had encountered within the pages of the ancient tomes that read of Greek gods and goddesses.

So, with a handful of her favorite dried figs that she sneaked from the kitchens, she sat down on the flat surface of the fountain, taking a deep breath as she did so.

The stillness that wrapped around her was abruptly shattered by the appearance of Leepy. The little elf cautiously emerged from the withered bushes, her pointy ears peeking out.

"What is it, Leepy?" inquired Viola, her teeth sinking into the dry fig. The saccharine center, reminiscent of caramel, enveloped her palate, its density lingering as she savored the taste.

Leepy emerged hurriedly from the thicket, positioning herself directly before Viola with a subtle inclination of her head.

"Master Cygnus called for Leepy, to retrieve Viola back to the dining room, immediately" Leepy squeaked, the words sounding as if they be etched in her mind.

Viola eyes did roll in disdain as his name escaped her lips. He embodied not only cruelty, but a lethargic nature, his devotion lying solely in the depths of his wine-filled cups.

"And, why might that be?" inquired Viola.

Leepy, with a slight shrug, responded, "Leepy is not sure, for Leepy merely follows commands given."

Viola let out a sigh, feeling unsettled by the uncertainty. It bothered her that she couldn't anticipate what to expect. In the Rosier manor, Filsy, the house elf, always seemed to provide the answers Viola desired. However, Leepy, on the other hand, did not possess the same inclination.