ARAWN
I am trapped. The great doors are locked, my sword and daggers disappeared into thin air, and my extra weapons are on my saddle, which is outside. For a third time, I furtively pull on the iron door handles. They are shaped like roses, the stems being the handles and the flowers gracefully resting against the unmoving oak.
"Bloody beast," I growl, angrily kicking at the door with my booted foot.
"Sir, might I show you to your room?"
Startled at the voice, I spin about, but the cavernous atrium is empty. "Who spoke to me?" Out of habit, my hand drifts to where the hilt of my sword should be.
"I did." A man's regal voice comes from nearby.
I narrow my eyes, but I only see the marble floor inlaid with gold, the expansive staircase clothed in a crimson carpet, the stalwart pillars, and elaborate wall panels. Could it all be an illusion? What does this place really look like? I can hardly imagine the beast living in such a grandiose edifice.
"Who are you?" I ask, feeling rather silly for speaking to the air.
The invisible being responds, "I am Cedric, her ladyship's steward."
I nearly snort at her ladyship. That thing, that creature which wore a gown of shadows, which glared at me with glittering black eyes of emptiness, was in no way a lady.
"Open these doors at once," I demand, striking the wood with my palm.
"I am afraid I cannot do that." He sniffs pompously. "Now, come along. I will take you to your room."
He means the prison. He must think me daft if he believes I will simply follow him. For all I know, he is some sort of illusion or ghost.
"Now, do not be stubborn. We have prepared a beautiful room for you—I am sure you will be comfortable," his voice comes from the base of the staircase.
"I doubt that I will find chains comfortable."
Cedric sighs heavily, then calls, "Please, do not be so obstinate. I am not taking you to the dungeons."
I squint toward the voice, hoping I will be able to determine where it is exactly coming from. But again, my efforts are futile. If I go with him, perhaps I will be able to learn the layout of this place or even the location of the beast. That vile creature vanished before I could assess its weaknesses or even its exact appearance. I had hoped I could immediately attack it, but the coward stole my sword with its magic and disappeared.
Tensely, I march toward the voice but pause when I arrive at the foot of the stairs. How am I supposed to follow it when I can't see it?
"Up this way, sir. Come along."
I cautiously follow the voice, wary of the fact that it could very well lead me into a trap. I ascend the staircase which after twenty-five steps, branches out to the right and left. The voice, or Cedric as he introduced himself, leads me to the right. As we crest the second staircase and enter the adjoining corridor, he points to various items—a portrait, a vase, a tapestry, a set of candelabras—and neatly explains their history. This vase was a gift from Lady Theodora Marchina who had it especially crafted for Lady Evita Vayliese, that painting is a portrait of Lord Xavier Cortielle, a powerful lord who had a great love for hunting, and so on. None of the names are familiar to me and I wonder if Cedric is making them up or if this is a history lost and forgotten by modern culture.
Beneath Cedric's history lesson, I attempt to memorize the route we take. First right, continue past two adjoining corridors, then left, up a short flight of stairs, then right past a marble statue of a horse, then right again? Or did we turn left before we passed the statue? By the time Cedric opens an oak door carved with depictions of ravens, I have completely lost my sense of direction.
"These will be your rooms for the duration of your stay," Cedric announces.
A mocking guffaw dies in my throat as I step across the threshold. Greens, browns, and golds warmly clothe the room. Against the right wall is a large canopied bed graced with pillows and an embroidered comforter. Two meters removed from the bed is a grand fireplace whose marble mantle displays an intricately carved hunting scene. To my left, is a group of chairs and a settee, but what catches my eye is a bowl of white roses neatly displayed upon the center table. The flowers are fresh and crisp as if they were just picked this morning. Is it meant to be a welcoming or a threat?
"I am sure you are weary from your journey, so I will leave you to rest."
Cedric's voice snaps me from my stupor, and I spin about, "What? No..."
Within the blink of an eye, the door swings shut. I rush to it and reach for the handle, but my hand closes upon air. There is no handle.
"Let me out and fight me, Beast." I step back and shove my shoulder against the door, but my attempts at force are useless, for it does not budges. "You coward," I roar, banging my fist against the oak.
Feverishly, I glance about the room and my eyes land on the tall windows across from me. I smirk in triumph. They are smart enough to remove the handle from my door, but they have forgotten about the windows. I hurry across the room and scan the windows for latches. Of course, there are none, so I remove my coat and wrap it about my hand. Then I draw back my fist and send it charging toward the glass. My hand connects painfully with the windowpane, but not even a crack resulted from the impact.
I growl in frustration and strike again and again and again.
KALISTA
The walk does help to clear my head and I am able to ascend the staircase to my rooms with an elegant posture and a mask of composure. But can I last through dinner?
In my rooms, Bedelia, or Beedy as I call her, has me sit at my vanity and adeptly uses an array of combs to transform my dark locks into a tangle of braids and curls. As long as she uses another item, she is able to arrange my hair. Her fingers, though, would pass directly through me. It is like this with all of the servants; they can touch solid items, but with people it is impossible.
"My lady?"
My blank stare breaks with Beedy's words. "Sorry, I was lost in thought." I rise from my seat and drift to the far wall of my dressing room where the evening gowns neatly hang in a mass of black fabrics. Pulling one out, I hold it against my body.
"I think I will wear this one tonight."
Beedy agrees with my choice and helps me put on the gown. The sleeves and bodice are made of intricate lace and are close-fitting, but the skirts are folded and gathered, creating a waterfall of black taffeta.
"Thank you, Beedy." I sit again at my vanity and she brings my jewellery box. From it, I choose various pieces of jewellery, including my family's signet ring—an impression of a rose in full bloom. Lastly, Beedy applies a brushing of powder to my cheeks and thin lines of kohl around my eyes.
"You look stunning, my lady."
I bite my lip and twirl the rose-shaped signet ring about my index finger. "Or like a beast?"
"Have heart, lady. He says it now, but he will change his mind once he gets to know you."
"Once he decides not to kill me?" I sigh and glide toward the door.
"Good luck, my lady." Beedy encourages.
"Thank you," I say and sweep out of the room.
For a second time today, I walk through the dark halls with the only sound around me being the swishing of my dress. What am I doing? This is ridiculous. He will never love me.
He is not yet in the dining room when I enter, so I pour myself a glass of wine—it will calm me—and settle in the chair at the head of the table. Its back is to the door and I am hoping this will somehow make him feel less intimidated. Not that it really makes a difference, though; my magic is still just as strong even with my back turned.
As I wait for my guest to arrive, my erratically beating heart and the crackling of the fire play a restless duet. What is taking him so long? Will he refuse to come? I would wager that if this is the case, Pierre and Cedric will drag him downstairs even if he screams and kicks the entire way.
ARAWN
When the door cracks open, I am still trying to find a way to break through the window and although I rush to it, the door is closed before I can even hope to slip out.
"Aah, there you are monsieur. What a pleasure to meet you."
I study the air before me, hoping for some sort of indication of life. This is a new voice and it has a heavy accent which suggests that he hails from Courtaine. It is strange that a ghost could possess such mundane characteristics.
"Pierre, this is hardly a social call," Cedric says in a stoic tone. "Sir, we are here to prepare you for supper."
Cedric is quite near to me now and instinctively I fold my hands behind my back. How will they respond when they see my bruised knuckles? Will they laugh and taunt me? Or will they place a spell on me that will prevent any future attempts at escape? I have no idea how they will react. They may have been real humans transformed into ghosts, but they could also be empty beings of magic. I have not the faintest idea how magic functions and this makes me nervous.
"We prepared such a wonderful wardrobe for you, monsieur. May I suggest the navy overcoat with the silver brocade? It is the perfect evening wear." Pierre's voice fades into a small adjacent room and within seconds an overcoat appears along with a waistcoat, lacy cravat, and breeches. They float effortlessly through the air as if they are bewitched. No, they are bewitched. This entire place is soaked with magic. I could feel it the moment I entered the forest and since then, it has only become stronger.
"Worry not, it is merely I," Pierre announces, likely noticing my unease.
When I look more closely, I notice that it indeed appears as if someone is holding the outfit. Are they ghosts or merely invisible humans?
"Alright now, off with this peasant garb," Cedric says, and I feel something tugging at my leather waistcoat.
I jump sideways and swat the air around me. "Off. Away with you, ghosts."
"Sir, these garments are not suitable for a dinner with her ladyship," Cedric declares.
"Hah, I care not for impressions. I will wear whatever I wish."
"Come, monsieur. Look at this fine overcoat and beautiful cravat," Pierre coaxes, fluffing the cravat.
"No, absolutely not."
"B-but you must," Cedric splutters, momentarily losing his composure.
I let the façade of a nobleman slip over my shoulders—it is a garment I am well accustomed to—and say assertively, "I don't have to do anything, and I believe I am late for dinner." Really, I have no idea whether or not I am late, but I need to get out of this room and playing off of the beast's little game will serve my purpose.
"Oh, yes sir. Of course, sir." Cedric hastens to the door and even without a handle, it swings open. I want to run, to escape the stifling room, but if I did, then what? I'd like to imagine that I'd be able to find my way to the atrium and perhaps even to the beast, but in reality, I can't even remember how we got to this room. It shouldn't be so complicated, yet somehow, the steps and turns have all blurred together.
"This way, this way, monsieur." Pierre beckons and when I look toward his voice, I see a candelabra floating in the air. The tiny yellow flames atop the white candlesticks illuminate the dark hall beyond my room. Earlier, the halls had been dim, although daylight had chased away some of the shadows. Now, however, only the candles puncture the inky darkness. What is hiding in those shadows? Is the beast waiting there?
Tentatively, I follow the floating candelabra that indicates the direction of the two ghosts. I often pause, certain that I heard something out of place, but if I fall too far behind, Cedric calls to me and reminds me that I don't want to be late.
Finally, we reach the grand staircase and descend to the atrium. Now, my senses are even more on edge. Where is the beast?
The candelabra leads me across the marble floor through a pair of archways, then to the threshold of a large room.
"We will leave you here, monsieur," Pierre says softly, and the candelabra is placed on a side table. Then they leave me, and I am alone. I thought it would be impossible to determine when ghosts come and go; after all, they are invisible. But somehow, I can feel them depart.
With them gone, I turn my attention to the room before me. There is an expansive fireplace on the right and the flames curl sharply within it. In the center of the room, there is a long table whose surface is so heavily laden with delicacies that I wonder if it will collapse. There is only one candelabra in the room, positioned on the far end of the table beside an empty plate which is accompanied by gleaming silverware and sparkling crystal glasses.
And the beast...
I know it is here. I can feel it. My eyes search the shadows, looking for the glint of eyes or the gleam of long nails, but with a start, I realize how near it is to me.
"You are late," its voice caresses the darkness and draws the shadows toward itself.
It sits in a throne-like chair that has its back to me. I can see very little of it, but I know how terrible and evil it is. I was somewhat surprised today when it appeared in an almost human form, but the tales say that it can change and that most often it possesses a beastly, wolf-like form. It matters not, though, what its appearance is. It is a beast and I will have my revenge.
I will kill it.