The Cavern of the Faragon

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 ℑ

𝔄 𝔑𝔢𝔴𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔗𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔚𝔬𝔢

September 24, 1879

IN THE RESPLENDENT and bustling thoroughfares of Perconicus, the illustrious city of Ivalor flourished, famed far and wide for its denizens' abiding passion for melody and artistry.

Among its populace were heralded the proud possessors of the most esteemed theatre across the expanse of the known universe, a veritable sanctuary where creative spirits danced and sang, manifesting from the air itself in joyous splendor.

It was a realm where song, dance, and stagecraft entwined in harmonious embrace, ensnaring the hearts and souls of all who wandered into its vibrant embrace.

Yet, within the hallowed halls of a grand manor perched within the town of Perconicus, a lady nestled in her own world of tranquility, dedicating herself to the art of writing tomes and the divination of her tarot cards.

Her pursuits, a serene counterpoint to the artistic fervor that enveloped the city, provided her solace amid the fervent celebrations, allowing her to immerse herself in the printed word and ponder the mysteries of tomorrow. Here, amidst the silence of her literary sanctuary, she found heartwarming comfort, a refuge from the vibrant tapestry of life that pulsed just beyond her door.

"Astellia!" came the woman's voice from below, thick with urgency, echoing through the still air of the somber abode. Within her chamber, Astellia reluctantly set aside her tome, the pages fluttering like trapped birds, and placed it with deliberate grace upon her desk. "Yes, Aunt Precilla?" she called in response, a hint of trepidation lacing her words.

"I shall be absent until the stroke of midnight," Precilla declared, her visage a canvas as she diligently applied powder and lipstick, transforming herself with painstaking artistry. With the precision of a painter, she affixed a faux mole to her cheek, liquid eyeliner glistening in the dim light. "It has reached my ears that Luciana del Fiore hosts yet another performance in the heart of the city," she continued, casting a critical eye upon her reflection, the mirror a silent witness to her machinations.

"I see," Astellia mumbled, her fingers restlessly fiddling with each other as she gazed out the window. Precilla, noticing her sadness, turned towards her, "Don't worry, darling," she reassured, gently lifting Astellia's chin, "Tomorrow is the day you shall depart, is that correct? Trust that I will be there; do not feel upset."

Astellia forced a feeble smile, nodding in agreement. Her Aunt Precilla had been the only family she still held dear, ever since the tragic incident had robbed her of her parents. Taken in by Precilla, she had become a second biological mother to the young lady, offering solace and love in the absence of her biological parents. Her aunt, a vibrant figure in the town, often traveled for gatherings and events, leaving Astellia to her own devices for extended periods

"Are you fine on your own here?" asked Precilla, a note of worry in her voice. Astellia, despite her loneliness, managed a smile and nodded. "I am perfectly alright, Aunt Precilla," she assured, "I am not a child anymore to worry about." Precilla observed her niece, her heart brimming with a mix of concern and pride. Astellia's maturity and stoic demeanor reminded her of the passage of time, and the inevitability of her imminent departure from her care. "Very well," she said softly, "But know that you can always reach me, my dearest."

Astellia inclined her head, a whisper of sorrow dancing within her gaze. "Yes... Aunt Precilla," she replied, her voice imbued with a subtle shade of wistfulness. "But, before you depart, dear Aunt," Astellia interposed, a note of apprehension threading through her tone, "Please exercise caution on your journey. I have come across the newspapers with the unsettling reports from Grenswood, Albiana."