AIANES (Theodore Nott) H.P AU

Chapter Seventeen

The Manor is silent, more so than it is known for. Scarily even.

The halls are empty and cold during winter and there's a sort of vacancy floating around the corners that is not quite right. Olympia drags herself through the corridors, her bare feet feeling both the softness of the rugs and the gelid marble floors.

She shivers at that, never being one to enjoy frosty temperatures.

Her attention side tracks when a tap on the window makes her head turn left, eyes falling on a beautiful magpie that keeps on nudging the glass with its beak, as though calling out for her.

'One for sorrow...' She thinks, recalling the lovely nursery Apollo would sing about the little birds to her when she was a child.

She doesn't get to dwell much on it, however, seeing as a distant scream is heard. She jumps on her spot, eyes drifting away from the window as her ears begin to strain, trying to pinpoint where exactly did the painful shriek come from.

It proves to be a bit difficult. Especially because the magpie grows restless and taps the window yet again.

But a second scream makes Olympia abandon the room, hastily turning on corners and making her way down the flight of stairs.

Something's wrong, she realises, especially because upon reaching the foyer, she looks up to see Aveline's portrait gone.

A third scream echoes. This one much more audible than the last two, making the Sarantos witch realise she is getting closer to whoever is making these awfully shrill noises.

She keeps on walking. Soon reaching the dining room, where a note has been left to lay on top of the long, walnut table.

'Gone for the week, see you both come Sunday. -Apollo'

Olympia's jade green eyes narrow at her grandfather's brief message before getting distracted by the magpie yet again; This time, however, the bird stands outside the dining room's balcony doors that lead to the garden. The magpie keeps on tapping and screeching with even more fervour, but it gets ignored when the young girl goes past it, still looking for whoever is screaming.

Olympia's legs make her slip inside the kitchens, which are another indicator of something being wrong, especially because the elves are nowhere to be seen.

Still, on the far end of the room, there's a single door that leads to the wine cellar.

The sight makes the youngest Sarantos stop and freeze on her tracks.

She doesn't like where this is going. Not one bit. Now that she stands on the other side of the door, she can hear the screams more clearly. Not only are they shriller, but they are even more constant. They make her realise that the first, second, and third screams she heard were probably not first, second, or third, but most likely just the louder ones that managed to sneak and echo around the Manor.

Her hand is on the doorknob, the frigid metal causing a shiver to run down her spine. Maybe she shouldn't open it. Maybe she should go back upstairs and try to drown out the continuous cries that have now engraved themselves on her eardrums. She should go, but before she can make the better choice, she finds herself standing halfway down the wooden stairs.

The wine cellar is spacious, the candlelights giving it a yellowish tint. There's about a hundred different bottles stacked up on either side of the walls; they are arranged by region, year, and vineyard.

But what makes bile rise up Olympia's throat is not the sight of dusty bottles. No — What actually makes her stomach churn is the sight before her. A sight in which Aveline's back is facing her while a small girl lays at the blonde's feet.