Dydra melted in the cozy mattress with her gaze fixed on the wooden ceiling. The locket clenched in her fist, with her mind replaying the words Oryen uttered on the dinning table.
"That locket, take it off. Never wear it in public." Oryen's words broke through the silence. A frown knitted on Dydra's face. "Why?" She was left confused, still unease about the dark tear lines on Oryen's face. Why can't she just wash it off? She questioned inwardly. She could sense a weird aura coming from Oryen with a certain unease flashing through her eyes every now and then.
Oryen's lips twitched. "Do as I say child! Or you'll have your head detached from your neck," she hissed, her ocean eyes that once held gentleness, drew cold, piercing into Dydra's.
Her words shook her. What does she mean by that? It's just a simple locket, is it not? The look in Oryen's eyes scared Dydra.
"Ahem," a dry cough escaped her lips. Her fingers trembled going to the back of her neck, unhooking the locket, catching it in her palm. They continue their meal in silence. She had wanted to start up a conversation, but the aura Oryen gave off was scary, making her words hang up her throat. After their meal, Dydra offered to clean up, but Oryen sharply turned her way.
A small snap escape from the fireplace, as it's warmth filled the room. What was going on? Why was Oryen giving off a dismissive attitude? And what was that about the locket killing her. She brought it close to her face–perhaps it was because the locket was made out of gold. Could that be the case? But the look she gave didn't seem to point at that.
For some strange reason, Oryen gave off an aura similar to her grandmother. The way she carried herself when they first met. The gentleness of the smile she wore. It didn't cross her mind at first because it she was preoccupied with other important stuff. But now that she's settled, the aged woman had a slight resemblance to her grandmother. The raven hair and the snow-white skin where features they both possessed, the only difference was the colour of their eyes. Her grandmother's were dark in colour, matching her hair, while Oryen's were ocean-blue.
Though the aged woman attitude was off, that doesn't change the fact that she offered her a place to stay without a single question on her identity or why she dressed like that or why she was peeking through the windows of her cottage. Dydra knew not to over stay her welcome, deciding to leave the next day. Her eyes gradually closed and she fell into a deep slumber.
The moon stood proudly in the sky, giving light to the world below. A shadow crept beneath the moon light, hiding in a dark cloak. it moved deep into the forest with quiet steps. Now, with the tall trees shading the moonlight, it blended in with the darkness. Stopping at a tall oak tree, it squated down, it's slender fingers poking out of the cloak's sleeves. It started to dig with it's bare nails till a deep hole forged. It reached into its cloak, bring out a wood-covered book, with heart-shaped lockets of gold and silver carved on it. It placed the book into the hole, covering it with dirt. Standing on her two feet, Oryen returned quietly to the cottage.
In the Thelmond mansion, Agatha laid motionless on her bed. Her eyes were red and puffy. The gentle glow that once harboured it was replaced by emptiness. It's been two days since her husband had dragged her daughter out of the house. Neither of them had returned. Her stomach gnawed at her due to lack of food, her throat itched from thirsty. Since they've left not a single food or water touched her lips. The maids were frustrated and worried. The Madam had denied every food brought to her, locking herself in her room. They were petrified, not knowing how to handle the situation. A male servant had gone out in search of the Master, but neither of them had returned. A thing like this has never occured in the household.
In the kitchen, the maids gathered at a spot, whispering about the current situation of the mansion.
"Why is Madam refusing to eat because of a creepy maid?" A brunette started the conversation.
"That witch must have casted a spell on the Madam. Why else will she refused to eat, locking herself up in her room." Another added.
"You really think so, Mary? That bizarre looking girl is a witch?" The brunette asked, trembling along side with other maids
"Of course. Don't you always see her snooping around the house, never showing her face whenever the Master was home." Mary pointed out, with the other maids responding with nods.
"She was casting spells on the Madam? Why would she do that?" A blonde maid ask, eagerly waiting for Mary's response.
"Everyone knows that poor Madam wants a female child really badly, but her health wouldn't let her. Being a calculating b*tch, she took notice of this and started casting spells on Madam. Making Madam view her as the female child she's always longed for." There was a certain jealousy in Mary's eyes. She had never liked that bizarre looking girl, so she kept a close eye on her. And one day, she saw her sneaking into the Madam's room when the Master was out. She had waited, wondering what was going on. Then she heard giggles coming out from the room with the Madam's voice ringing out.
Call me mother, you stubborn child.
That sentence was astonishing. Her mind couldn't process it and she was filled with curiosity, wondering what will make the Madam utter such words. She had followed Dydra around through out that week, trying to figure things out, but she couldn't. With the strange features the girl carried, and her abstinence from other maids, and her sneaking around the house, Mary had concluded she was a witch.