The Dark Inheritance

Secrets in the Shadows

"And she can kiss an man or slit his throat"
♡

1 week later:-

Natasha's POV

The morning light poured in through the high, narrow windows of my dormitory, casting long, cold shadows across the floor. But despite the warmth of the sun, there was a chill in the air today—a sense of foreboding that lingered in the pit of my stomach. The events of the past week had left me restless, my thoughts clouded with the power I had begun to wield.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing, that I was on the brink of something more—but what that was, I couldn’t yet see clearly. The book had given me a taste of power, but it had also whispered of something darker, something buried deep in my past. It had mentioned secrets—secrets that could change everything I thought I knew about myself.

As I sat at the edge of my bed, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of the book, a soft knock on the door caught my attention. I didn’t need to be told who it was.

"Come in," I called, my voice flat, unbothered.

The door creaked open, and Frejya stepped inside, holding a small stack of parchment.
"Natasha, you have some letters" she said, her voice wavering slightly from the coldness of my hands, as she handed me the letters.

I took the parchment from her, my fingers brushing lightly against her own. The letter was sealed and a familiar crest with a black dragon spraying red hot fire through his mouth. Below the dragon was written the family motto in Latin
"Sumous Potentes" meaning " We are Powerful". The handwriting on the front was unmistakable: the fine, flowing script of my aunt, Ariana Draggonmirof.

The name sent a sharp pang through me. Aunt Ariana was the current matriarch of our family, the one who had inherited the title of “Heir to the Draggonmirof Line” after my parents' death. She had always been distant, shrouded in mystery, and our interactions had always been few. My parents had always kept their distance from her—both of them, especially my father, had never spoken of her with any warmth.

But now, as I stared at her elegant handwriting, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of unease. Why was she reaching out now? And why after all these years?

Frejya hesitated at the door, watching me closely. I glanced up, but said nothing. I knew she was dying to know what was in the letters, but it wasn’t her business.

I tore open the envelope with sharp, deliberate movements, unfurling the thick parchment. The words within were written in the same elegant, almost hypnotic cursive that marked Ariana's handwriting.

Dear Natasha,

I hope this letter finds you well. There are things that need to be said, things that must be told to you, for you must know the truth about your parents. It is not a subject I wish to revisit, but I can no longer keep these secrets buried. Your parents did not die of natural causes, as you were led to believe. They were not victims of a mere accident, but of a betrayal most foul—one that reaches back through generations of our bloodline.

I know you are young, but you are now the heir to the Draggonmirof legacy. And with that legacy comes both power and danger. There are forces at play that you cannot yet understand, forces that have kept your family under a dark shadow for centuries.

I will write again soon, but for now, keep this letter close. I know it may be difficult to accept, but I believe you are ready to know the truth. Trust no one but yourself, Natasha. Trust in your magic, and trust in the bloodline you carry.