But as we neared the gates, the illusion began to fray.
“Stay close, Tilly,” Cillian murmured, his hand tightening around mine.
“We’re approaching theMoonspire Gate.”
Two statues flanked the arch. Tall, veiled figures carved from pale stone, their robes flowing like frozen silk. Each possessed graceful features, yet there was an unsettling beauty about them. It was their eyes, they looked heavy with sadness, as if ready to cry.
One hand pressed to her chest, as if guarding a secret that had long since turned to grief. The other had tilted her face toward the sky, her lips parted in a silent, eternal plea for some type of mercy.
I blinked and for a moment, I thought I saw the second statue’s fingers twitch. Just slightly. Then something brushed the edge of my mind. Not words. A whisper exhaled against my thoughts.
Its fingers moved. They fricking moved.I swallowed hard.It had to be my mind. It had to be. No way that was real. No way.
"You see, Tilly, magic is all around us," Cillian said, voice soft beside me. "It flows from the universe itself. But our gift to harness it depends on whether we choose to open ourselves to that power.
I barely heard him.
Did he see the statues fingers twitch?I didn’t dare ask. A knot had formed deep in my chest. I wanted to sit, breathe, and gather my thoughts but Cillian led me on.
At The Manorsarched doors stood two guards. Silent. Still. Their robes were black, threaded with silver that shimmered like veins in the moonlight. Their faces were covered by smooth masks, utterly devoid of expression. They didn’t blink. They didn’t speak. They Just watched us.
The air shifted. It felt thicker, like the clouds above had dimmed just by looking at them.
My pulse quickened. Until now, the brothers had felt dangerous, but this was different. What were they, an elite cult or a secret mythical society living here on Earth? Whatever this was I had no business wanting to understand. Yet even those words seemed too small and human for this situation.
I walked toward the doors, feeling as if this place was alive. It wasn’t welcoming. This wasn’t just a kidnapping. It was far bigger. And I was already walking into it.
Something flickered at the edge of my vision.
And somewhere deep in my chest, a voice I didn’t recognize whispered:
There’s no going back.
SEVEN
THE STARS CHOICE
The grand arched doors of Sternwacht Manor creaked open slowly, the sound scraping through my mind like a warning.
Fionn and Torin approached, but it wasn’t them who held my gaze. An older woman with platinum hair and piercing blue eyes greeted them. Her exquisitely sculpted face emphasized her flawless porcelain skin, reflecting an almost unearthly beauty. Dressed in a stunning purple gown trimmed with ermine, she possessed a contradictory demeanour, appearing both older and younger at the same time.
Fionn bowed his head in a polite gesture that surprised me. The woman addressed them warmly, though I couldn't quite catch her words. She turned and nodded toward us, and then Fionn and Torin disappeared inside.
The woman watched us approach. When we reached her, I was struck by the resemblance she bore to the brothers. I wondered if she was their mother.
"Cillian," she said.
"Seraphina," he replied, courteously bowing his head in return.
Her inspection of me was thorough, her China blue eyes seemed to pierce deep within me. I felt exposed, yet there was an undercurrent of respect. The sensation was both disconcerting and comforting in equal measure.
“Take her to Rosenwacht-Halle,” Seraphina commanded, her voice urgent yet compassionate. Her concern, though subtly expressed, felt genuine, stirring a flicker of hope within me. Maybe, just maybe, there were friends to be found in this unknown place.
Led by Cillian, I stepped intoThe Manor of Sternwacht,and crossing the threshold felt like entering another world entirely. The cool interior was a welcome relief, and I couldn't stop wondering about the role Seraphina played in this intricately woven tapestry of power and mystery. Her brief interaction had left an indelible mark, prompting me to reconsider my initial perceptions of this world and its people.
Just inside, a vast triangle symbol of silver and obsidian was inlaid into the stone floor, its edges catching the light. As I stepped across it, a chill brushed up my legs. I paused, unsure if it was a draft rising up from the floor.
Crossing the threshold felt like stepping into a dream. My thoughts scattered, then sharpened as I took in the enormous rooms decorated with furnishings from many cultures and eras. Bathed in the diffused light from the soaring windows, paintings, sculptures, and unusual mythical artwork dazzled my eye.
