"Rise and shine Verity!"
Lillith jerked awake at the sudden noise, ready for an attack. She sat up so fast the blood didn't have time to reach her head, but released a strained breath once she discovered the origin of the ruckus, facing no other than the descendant of Mammon, dressed in a bright, tailored suit. He shoved the curtains apart and the witch visibly cringed at the daylight, rubbing the sleep off her eyes.
"Has nobody ever told you, that sleep is fundamental for healing?"
Anthony snatched the comforter off her body and shamelessly looked her up and down.
"I see no injuries," he stated with a smug smile, earning a baffled look in return. Lillith pulled it back with a violent jerk, hiding her bare legs underneath.
"What are you doing here?"
"Waking you up."
"What time is it?"
"Late."
"So?"
"We were supposed to leave an hour ago and Tom is being rather uptight."
"I don't see why his mood swings are any of my concern," Lillith replied with a bitter undertone to her voice and the wizard cocked an eyebrow at her attitude.
"I may start to think this was an arranged marriage."
"Who would have thought?"
The heiress gave him a tight smile and Anthony sighed in defeat.
"Please Verity. You are the main source of his mood swings these days, and me and the others are the target, so try to be a little emphatic."
The witched refused to meet his eyes. She didn't like the feeling of guilt. It was this clawing sensation in her chest that she dearly despised.
"I didn't mean to sleep in."
"I think you needed it."
"So, you're not angry?"
Anthony gave her a wolfish smile.
"I don't think you are capable to provoke such emotion out of me. I will appreciate if you get ready for breakfast though. My peers are absolute beasts, and you look like you could use a decent meal."
Lillith nodded.
"I'll be there shortly."
The wizard grinned, performing a grateful salute.
"Good."
He walked over to the door, circling his spider like fingers around the handle.
"I will fetch you a seat beside me."
The mischievous glint in his eyes seemed to be prominent, leaving the witch wondering whether he was mocking her the whole time. She was still dumbfounded by his straightforward nature. Lillith never encountered somebody even ramosely similar to Anthony Turner and yet, she wasn't sure whether it was a pleasant change or the complete opposite.
After he left, the witch realized, that her trunk was still nowhere to be seen. She quickly came to the conclusion that her power was non-existent in the infamous Crane residence and so, she did the only thing that seemed reasonable to her.
"Leviathan are you there?"
Lillith barged inside Tom's bedroom, unannounced, searching for a familiar trunk. She didn't expect Tom to be there, but faith seemed to be her enemy the past days.
The wizard was seated behind his desk and just merely lifted his eyes off the parchment when he heard her enter.
"What can he possibly help you with?"
Lillith put her hands on her hips.
"Where is my luggage, Crane?"
"In the carriage."
"And what am I supposed to wear?"
"I don't have time to deal with you, Lillith."
"But-"
"Are you daft, Moriarty? I said, I don't have time for your nonsense," he barked, dipping his quill into an ink. He started furiously scribbling onto a piece of parchment, unaffected by her presence.
The witch scoffed, pushing her tongue against the flesh of her cheek.
"Fine!"
If she didn't have anything to wear, then he won't either.
The witch started throwing things out of the wizard's wardrobe, creating a pile of clothes scattered across the floor. She ripped everything that came under her hand and tossed it onto the carpet.
"Can you stop?"
"Stop what?"
"The fucking noise!"
"No."
Thomas set his quill down in an aggressive motion and rose from his seat.
"Lillith!"
His fingers circled around her arm in a painful grip, squeezing it just enough to imprint the shape of his fingers into her skin.
"What is wrong with you woman?" he growled, dragging her from the wardrobe.
"Are you going to bring me something decent to wear?"
"I have no time to care about your stupid bags!"
"Fine. Then you won't have anything either."
Tom's eyebrows pulled together in confusion.
"What?"
With that, all his clothes got engulfed in fire and his eyes widened.
"You stupid little girl!"
He let go of her and threw a blanket across the fire in an attempt to put it down. Lillith watched him from afar, satisfied at the sight.
Absolute rage took over his features and his marine eyes darkened, turning pitch black in a matter of seconds. Never in his life, had he encountered a more aggravating witch than Lillith Moriarty and Thomas Crane swore he could murder her right there on the spot.
The vivid imagination of her lifeless body suddenly seemed more appealing than ever.
In the heated moment, Tom grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall, pressing himself against her to restrain her from any move.
"Isn't this familiar?" Lillith grinned, choking on her own saliva.
"I don't think you understand who you are dealing with."
"I think I do."
Tom shook his head.
"You are an insufferable being, Moriarty."
"It's Verity, actually."
"What is going on for Satan's sake?"
Tom let go of Lillith just as his uncle entered the room, swooshing the air to disperse the ashes.
"Has your fiancee already set you on fire Tom?"
Galadriel taunted from behind him with a provocative smile, accidentally bumping his elbow into Anthony's side.
"Careful! The fabric was brough from France!" the wizard complained, patting down his golden suit. Galadriel rolled his eyes at the dramaticism and Baltazar pinched the bridge of his nose, biting his tongue in annoyance.
"Have this cleaned up and come down," the old man demanded, turning his back to them. "And Verity," he turned once more, sending the witch a bitter glance. "Why don't you dress properly? It is highly inappropriate to walk around the house in your night wear."
Lillith pressed her lips into a thin line at the statement. She watched Baltazar grab the two boys by the collar and drag them out of the room, ignoring the loud protests they fired towards him.
The heiress grew confused by the hierarchy in the house. She couldn't understand why they hosted so many young gentlemen along with their family. It wasn't like they were related.
She was snapped out of her thoughts when Tom cornered her against the wall again, looking down at her with murder on his mind.
"They won't be able to save your every time, little dove. Remember that."
He stuffed two pieces of clothing into her hands, looking her straight in the eye whilst he spoke.
"Wear it properly or I swear to devil I will dress you myself from now on."
"I would like to see you try-"
Thomas pulled her in by the waist, painfully squeezing her hip. He had to restrain himself before he did something he would regret later on, unable to verbally express the hatred he felt towards the girl.
So, he snatched her.
"Get-dressed," he hissed, venom lacing his voice, before he stalked out of the bedroom.
Much to Tom's distaste, he didn't like the fact she promenaded herself across the whole castle dressed in an improper attire. The blouse was ridiculously thin and he wasn't even sure whether the fabric on her legs could be called pants. He secretly despised every second she was on display to other male gazes.
It wasn't like he cared about the girl.
The truth was, that Thomas Crane liked to have things in his possession, and he wasn't the type to share his belongings. Especially the ones faith itself chose for him...
He was denied most of his royal privileges due to his bastard status and that made him hungrier for power.
Nevertheless, what he was denied as a noble, he made up for as a wizard. His immense potential and natural talent brought upon the house of Cranes a ruthless reputation, one, that covered the mistakes of his impure origin. He partially restored the dirtied name of his family, but it wasn't enough.
Not for him.
Thomas craved the power her title held, the respect, the untold fear, and the thought alone, of having the most respected witch of centuries by his side, for him to use and control, sounded very much appealing to him.
She became his new play toy.
When Lillith finally exited the bedroom, she felt like a fool. She ignored the faint sneers of passing servitude with sour expression, walking in the direction of the dining hall. The maids shared expressive glances, snickering when she walked past and greeting her in a mocking manner.
The witch bit her tongue at the audacity. She clenched her fists, swinging her hands in the air whilst she walked like an angered child.
Lillith hated disrespect.
She knew she looked ridiculous. But she was determined to keep her dignity.
The clothes did not fit her at all, and she aggressively adjusted the fabric, pulling and stretching it over her chest in an attempt to cover her developed curves. Even the numerous paintings of their ancestors seemed to be intrigued by her appearance and she fought the urge to burn them all to the coal. The white blouse was two sizes bigger, and it pooled around her wrists in a disgraceful way. The same could be said about the plaited pants.
In no time, clinking of cutlery reached her ears and she peeked around the corner to take a better look around.
It was still relatively dark outside and just like at home, the sun seemed to be prominently hidden under a thick layer of darkened clouds. The curtain walling brought upon the room an elegant demeanour and the crystalline chandelier reflected in the faded shades of daylight. The dining hall was a spacious room, with big ebony table situated in the middle. Six pairs of golden chairs were planted on each side of the desk, with separate ones on each end.
Thomas was seated by the head of the table, ignoring everyone as per usual. He seemed to be completely preoccupied with an ancient book of satanic triumvirate, devouring the verses like a sacred treasure of redemption.
Lillith noticed him immediately and her face involuntarily twisted into a scowl.
"Can you chew any fucking louder?" Alexej hissed at Galadriel, who truly seemed to lack manners. It seemed like wilderness raised him.
"For Mammon's sake, what are you wearing woman?"
Anthony's eyebrows pulled together into a discontent scowl, leaving the girl madly conscious of her grotesque appearance. All attention was directed to her as he shamelessly addressed to the scandalous reflection of her self-presentation.
"Are you sure this is the one?" Galadriel snorted from opposite side of him, taking a sip of water before he started choking violently on the liquid as Anthony slapped him across the head.
"A gentleman Dante, is it that hard to try?" Tony scolded, unaffected by his uncontrollable coughing and Alexej grinned at his plate in amusement.
Just then, Tom lowered his book, looking at the spluttering boy in disgust. He spared Lillith just a second before he returned to his reading, missing the grimace she sent his way.
"We need to have a talk about your dress choices, "Anthony gave Lillith a pointed look. He then snapped his fingers with a hum, turning the clothes a couple sizes smaller. They stuck onto her slender figure and Lillith blushed crimson at the fact.
"Like a princess, " Tony smirked, letting his hand hover above her lower back. He walked them over to the table, taking out a chair next to him and Lillith granted him subtle nod in appreciation.
"Stop glaring Galadriel, you will have wrinkles."
He didn't even look at him, and he already knew what expression sat on his face. The blonde wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, shooting daggers at the wizard.
"I believe we didn't have the pleasure yesterday," Alexej spoke up suddenly, noticing the tension in the room. "Alexej Roman."
He reached through Galadriel, almost knocking a spoon full of semolina porridge out of his hand in the process to which he received a frustrated frown.
"Pleasure to officially meet you Alexej," she ignored his hand gesture. "Verity Griffin."
Finally, that was something that caught Thomas's attention. His eyes rose from the book he was reading, giving her a blank stare. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but one thing was for sure.
He did not mind keeping her identity a secret.
Alexej didn't seem offended by her lack of manners and simply eyed her once more, observing her characteristics. She had dark, wavy hair and soft features, that should not belong to a Slavic witch, however, her accent told him otherwise.
"I hope there is no bad blood due to yesterday's events."
"Likewise."
The witch nodded in appreciation.
Lillith looked down at her plate, eyeing the piece of apricot cake that was placed in front of her. Tony was already on his third piece and poured them both a cup of tea. The scent of cinnamon invaded her senses and her mouth watered, flooding with saliva.
"Try it," he encouraged her. "It's absolutely delicious."
It took him a moment to realize she wasn't rushing to eat.
"Woman, if you tell me, that you're on a diet, I'm going to throw hands."
"I'm not."
"Then what seems to be the problem?"
Lillith wasn't sure how to tell him.
He noticed the conflicted look in her face and rolled his eyes, taking a bite of her piece as well.
"See? Not poisoned at all."
Alexej chuckled at the interaction. Little did they know how anxious she was about the possibility. She felt a pang of guilt to turn Anthony into her personal royal taster, but also relief to be able to take a bite without fear.
Despite that, she dreaded every spoonful she ate. Lillith forced two pieces of cake and a pear down her throat, washing it all down with overly sugary sage tea. Under usual circumstances, she would have eaten way more, but in the company of the four gentlemen, her stomach felt tighter than ever.
She could sense the darkness radiating off them in heat waves. It was something she struggled with her whole life, and it was the reason she disliked the celebrations. She could feel the dark magic. It called for her. Her sixth sense buzzed under her skin, crawling, and howling to be released. Her heart rate picked up.
Lillith knew how powerful the wizard's were together. She could feel the demon blood in their bloodstreams. The sensation of the four of them was more powerful than a whole room of royals.
The witch panicked.
She realized how vulnerable she was.
A familiar pain knocked on her temple and the colour drained from her face, attracting attention of the boy seated opposite herself. His eyebrows pulled together as he sensed the drastic change in her demeanour, inspecting every tug of her facial muscles. Alexej too, straightened in alert, noticing the way Galadriel perked up his ears. Anthony quickly followed.
Lillith was completely unaware of the special attention and madly concentrated on a simple, yet impossible thing.
Shut down her thoughts.
Since she was a child, she experienced strange psychosis, hearing noises nobody else could.
Voices.
Infernal noises murmuring terrible, unimaginable things.
The whispers in her head crashed through the wall she built up in defence, intensifying the longer she sat between the four wizards. Her eyebrows pulled together as their voices grew louder and her pupils reduced into a tiny dot, leaving her mortified.
Terrible, horrifying things they said.
Goosebumps covered her skin, and she clutched the cutlery firmly in her hand, not realizing it started scraping against the table. Her fingers stiffened around the fork, cramping at the force she pushed them against the silver utensil and her jaw painfully clenched, setting her teeth against each other in an aching grip.
Burn it.
Kill them.
Earn respect.
Stab him.
Kill them.
Show them what we can do.
Show them Lillith.
Show them.
Show them.
Show them.
"Verity."
And just like that, they stopped.
Her head whipped around, facing the golden wizard who watched her with a puzzled frown. Cold sweat was pearling on her forehead and her shoulders were heavying up and down in a steady rhythm way too heavily, creating the illusion of being suffocated. She followed the direction of his stare with restless eyes, noticing a deep groove carved into the wooden desk.
Visibly disturbed, Lillith instantly let go of the fork, letting it collide with the table with a distinctive clink. The wizards watched her intently and Lillith felt like fainting. She abruptly stood up from her chair, sending it screeping against the floor and briskly walked out of the room.
Little did she know that Thomas listened to every breath she took ever since she stepped inside the room. She was like a plague in his head, occupying his thoughts day and night, but most importantly, Lillith Moriarty was an enigma and oh, how Tom loved solving riddles.
"Well, that was bizarre," Alexej stated, pouring himself a glass of milk.
Lillith kept pacing back and forth on the courtyard, filling her lungs with fresh air. Although her mind quieted down, it felt heavy, and a pounding ache throbbed inside her skull. The wind picked up and the heiress lifted her head, noticing the darkening sky.
A storm was comping.
"We should get going. Come Verity," Anthony called after the witch, opening the door for her.
None of them seemed to be affected by what had happened inside and so, Lillith accepted Anthony's hand and took a seat inside the carriage. He seated himself on the opposite bench and Galadriel joined him by his left. The door swung open again and Alexej glanced at the two boys in distaste.
"Move your fat ass Gale, would you? You're not travelling by yourself," he grumbled, slapping Anthony's tight to make him move over.
"I might confuse your slaps for flirting Alexej."
The wizard blushed crimson but made no comment at the statement. Galadriel adjusted himself in the seat, so the Slavic wizard had enough space to sit next to Anthony who was trapped in the middle.
"So, Verity..." Alexej spoke up. "How did you never go to school with us?"
Lillith gulped in nervousness.
"I was home-schooled. As a distant relative of the crown, I was told it was the safest option."
"Interesting. Have you ever seen the princess without the mask?
Lillith almost laughed.
"No. Of course not. Her identity shall remain a secret until the coronation day."
"And do you know anything about her-Ow! What was that for?" Alexej exclaimed in pain, holding his ribs.
"Leave the girl be. She knows no more than we do," Anthony stepped in, stretching his knuckles.
"What's your magic?"
"Oh, piss off Galadriel," Anthony snorted.
"No. I want to know what's so special about her."
He stared at her with animalistic eyes, his irises flashing bright yellow.
"You also don't go around rambling about your magic."
"My magic is very obvious to a plain eye," he leaned his elbows against his knees, boring his yellow eyes into the pits of black. "There must be something about you, witch. And if you won't tell us, we will find out the bad way."
"For devils' sake," Anthony groaned, grabbing his collar to push him back against the seat. "What got your panties in a twist so early in the morning?"
Galadriel shrugged off his hand, snarling his prolonged teeth. The sight shocked Lillith.
"Don't you dare to growl at me, or I'll make you ran after the carriage the whole ride."
That's when it hit her.
Galadriel Dante was a shifter.
That's why he was so ill-mannered. That's why Anthony talked to him like he was a dog. He wasn't mocking him.
Well...he was, but she would have never thought his sarcasm was based on reality.
Finally, Thomas entered the carriage, tapping the outer side with the wide of his palm.
"Let's go!"
Lillith quickly realized that there was more to Tom's companions, then she originally thought.
They've been travelling for half an hour and the witch quickly grew impatient. She sat on the very side of the bench, as far from Tom as possible, staring out of the window to memorise the ride.
"When are we going to be there?" she questioned irritably, folding her hands against her chest.
"My, my. So eager to leave my presence?" Tony pouted. "I'm genuinely hurt."
Lillith rolled her eyes, watching him double in fake pain.
"Oh, stop the nonsense."
Galadriel scoffed, smacking him.
"Careful Dante," Anthony warned him, brushing through his curly locks. "People would pay more for this hair than the price of yourself."
"Not so much than," Tom stated, making Galadriel snort loudly.
"Excuse you?"
Alexej snickered.
"And what are you possibly laughing at?" Tony's voice rose an octave in defence.
The witch rolled her eyes, when suddenly, the carriage came to a halt.
"It looks like our departure came to an end!" Anthony chirped with his usual bubbly mood and the three fought for the door as if there wasn't another one.
They all fell out simultaneously, graceful as a sack of potatoes. For a moment, Lillith hesitated whether she gave them too much credit from the start. They were bickering like children fighting for the last piece of candy.
Before she got out, Tom crossed her way and lowered his voice, making sure no one else can hear.
"Keep by my side and don't attract any unnecessary attention."
Lillith frowned.
"I can take care of myself."
He shot her a stern look.
"No, you can't."
Thomas held the door open for her and the heiress hastily stepped out, taking a look around. She had seen a drawing of the academy in chronicles of her ancestor, Cordelia Moriarty, however the real sight was nothing in comparison with the picture in the book.
It was a magnificent, tall building with towers that stretched towards the sky. It could be compared to present gothic architecture and Lillith's mouth fell agape at the sight. A great, black gate was separating them from the grounds of the school and the moment Thomas came near, it opened, as if inviting back its students.
Lillith was pulled along the wizards, her steps hesitant, as if she was being pulled into dragon's nest. The voices started crawling under her skin, whispering the closer she neared the entrance of the academy and nausea seized the heiress, twisting her guts until her skin developed a verdant tint.
Two disturbingly accurate effigies of an inferno being patrolled each side of the stairwell and Lillith solicitously observed the statues, feeling an emotion similar to dread wash over her.
The sculptures were centuries old, coated with moss and dirt, yet still flawless, resilient to the mad weather of western Europe. Their accuracy made her heart sped up and her hand involuntarily rose to touch the sculpted surface of the rough stone, guided by a destructive persistence of her subconscious.
Come closer.
The voice was awful, unnatural, and raspy, enticing in an unscrupulous way.
Come closer.
She could not resist.
Closer. Come loser Lillith. Closer.
"What are you doing?"
The enchanted girl visibly flinched as the ongoing noise in her head abruptly stopped, vanishing within sheer nothingness. Her hand was snatched away, and she stared at Thomas with dilated eyes, composing the shreds of delusion her mind left behind.
Finally, the reality downed on her, and she noticed the strange looks the wizards flashed her way, intrigue written over their faces marked by the beauty of fallen angels.
The witch irked them to the bone.
She resembled a ghost, a startled look prominent on her usually blank face, leaving them wonder, what had disturbed her to the point she let her guard down.
Cold sweat pearled on her forehead and her eyes were blurred over, coated with a cloud of obscurity.
"Don't touch anything," Tom sneered, taking a hold of her elbow. His slender fingers circled around her upper arm in a firm grip, and she was pulled along the boys up the flight of stairs, shaken due to the vociferous shatter of her mental barrier.
She was no longer able to oppose.
The young Lord kept the girl close to his side as they hurriedly led her through numerous halls, advancing through the labyrinth of the academy like true nobles. Aristocracy ran in their blood and the wizards carried themselves with pride and such ease, the witch resembled a child in comparison with their natural charm.
It was ridiculous how fast they could compose themselves.
Lillith, once again, was humbled, intrigued by their demeanour despite her royal status. She was superior, yet she felt like she did not have the right to breathe the same air.
They shone like a cursed treasure in a pit of gold, one brighter than the other.
"The dark priest awaits you."
A whoosh of air fanned the back of her neck and Lillith whipped around, facing an almost empty corridor. The others disappeared out of thin air, leaving her alone with the devil in an abandoned hall.
"Who?" she asked in distress, herself taken aback by the direct admission of her vulnerability.
She was scared.
"What is happening Tom?"
Although familiar with the historical background of the institute, she had never crossed the boarders of her home. She was imprisoned in the castle for twenty-one years, unaware of the course of events in the outside world.
Not only was the witch socially uneducated, but she also lacked the common knowledge among her peers, thus, who was the person considered to be the dark priest and what did he want from her?
"Trust me, Verity," the wizard send her a devilish smile, retreating into the dark of the shadows. "He is not the one you should be afraid of."
Lillith briefly glanced at the sacred door, but the moment she turned back around, he was gone.
"Son of a-"
A sharp screeping of hinges broke the heavy silence and the witch watched with horror as the door cracked open, revealing a chamber filled with chilled air. Her blood ran cold, and she placed her feet onto the doorframe despite the howls of her common sense, driven by the curiosity of her youth.
It all happened so fast.
The voices started slithering under her skin and she was violently shoved in, losing her stability.
She barely registered what had happened.
The air was knocked out of her lungs at the impact against her shoulder blades and she stumbled over her feet, crashing into a wooden construction. Her hips collided with an ebony bench, and she blindly pushed herself off the furniture, searching for the handle of the door with frantic movements.
Her heart rate sped up as the realization downed on her and she faced the darkness with an outraged breath, embracing the hysteria with racing heart.
There was no knob.
On the spur of the moment, the candles lit up on their own and Lillith gasped as her feet moved forward, heavily dragging her step by step as if walking through thick mud. She dug her heels into the floor beneath her, resisting the force pulling her down the aisle. She grabbed onto the benches, digging her nails into the hard wood.
But no matter what she did, she wasn't strong enough.
Invisible restrains circled around her ankles and she was pulled towards an altar coated with black wax. The chips of timber kept digging farther up her nails until her hands were snatched away and forced upon a crafted knife, grasping it in a forceful grip.
At that point, her heart was beating so rapidly it hurt her chest.
Her movements were stiff and shaky, her fingers bend in odd angles, an obvious outcome of her stubborn resistance towards the stronger will and she grunted as she sunk the blade deep into her flesh, tearing the silk glove, digging and slicing until the pedestal filled with her blood.
She was forced to be a mere observer of her actions, once again, feeling like a marionette without further will than to obey commands of her master.
Too weak to resist, she watched in terror as gore soaked the marble arrangement and her mouth fell open in agony whilst she fell to her knees, watching her blood rise up the painting. It slowly flowed through the grooves carved in the portrait of the triple goddess, tracing the lines of the faded canvas.
Maiden, mother, and a crone were looking down at the child, seeking a confirmation of her loyalty. Mothers' dark brown hair framed her face like a crown and three serpents slithered around her neck like an expensive jewel, hissing at the sight of a fellow worshipper. The light of the torches reflected in her white eyes like the flames of hellfire, spitting carbon sparks onto her companions assembled of ashes. The edges of her statue started filling with crimson liquid, until the circle connected, drenching the tapestry in the substance of her suffering.
The shaken witch watched in pain as her eyes glowed pure white and the hellhounds lit aflame, burning brighter than the pits of hell.
She cringed at the blinding light and covered momentarily, shutting her eyes to spare them of the burning torture.
She went blind.
The smoky scent filled the air and Lillith lowered her hands, blinking rapidly and rubbing her sore eyes to restore her damaged sight.
Once again, she was swallowed in utter darkness.
The candles died down.
Her eyes were droopy, her body felt heavy, and she slowly lifted her eyes off the floor as the light steadily returned, revealing an old man in a black cloak.
The candles softly smouldered in the dim light and for a moment, she hesitated weather even he, was a mere fragment of her twisted imagination.
"Congratulations."
The ceremonial sacrifice inhaled all her energy and she lazily glanced at the man from under her lashes, her mouth agape in exhaustion.
"You passed the test."
He grinned, his rotten teeth flashing in the candlelight.
"Welcome to Morariel, the unholy Academy of Forbiddenarts."