Nemona: The Witch of Scaranton

Chapter 2: An Unexpected Welcome

The Scaranton Mansion, with its legends of darkness and intrigue, was the last place I'd expected to encounter a boisterous family gathering. The lively environment seemed to combat the chill and dreariness that had settled in my bones when I first saw the mansion. I approached the doors swiftly trying to stay in my semblance.

The voice welcoming me was that of Gilbert Winston. Standing tall, his mature visage marked by a full white beard, framed by round spectacles. Dressed impeccably in a finely tailored lilac-colored suit jacket paired with a mustard-yellow waistcoat and deep brown trousers, Gilbert radiated an air of sophistication. His light tan hat sat atop his head, complementing his ensemble perfectly. However, the most striking element of his appearance was the scarab-shaped cane he held, its gleaming golden handle catching the ambient light. This unique artifact, combined with his genial demeanor, only deepened the mystery surrounding him. He approached with a measured grace, every step an assertion of his dominance over the vast mansion. "Greetings, madam. And who might you be?"

"Ah, my apologies for the intrusion," I began, picking my words carefully, "My name is Arria Larkspur, I'm here on a research expedition. I've been studying the histories of various manors in and around London, and the legend of Scaranton Mansion piqued my interest."

A chuckle bubbled up from Gilbert's throat. "Research, is it? Well, you have impeccable timing. We've only just moved in two days ago."

His eyebrows arched curiously, "A researcher, standing alone in this grand entrance, you surely must have a compelling reason. Not just the architecture, I presume?"

I hesitated for a second, then decided on a half-truth, "The architecture is indeed captivating. But it's also the stories, the legends that surround places like these. They often contain kernels of truth, don't you think?"

Gilbert studied me for a moment, his gaze piercing yet not unkind. "Indeed, tales have a way of intertwining with reality. Come in, stay for dinner. You can share your research, and perhaps we can offer some insights from our short time here."

Gratefully, I nodded, following him further into the mansion. It seemed that my guise as a researcher had inadvertently granted me an insider's view of the mansion and its newest residents. Now, I only hoped to unravel its mysteries before the legends came to life.

While I chatted with Gilbert, the children ran around us in glee, their laughter echoing through the grand hallways. It was easy to forget, even if momentarily, the ominous legend that brought me here.

As the evening wore on, the warmth and liveliness of the Winston family was contagious. I shared tales of my travels, and in turn, listened to their stories. The mansion, with its intricate woodwork and sprawling rooms, became a backdrop to a delightful evening.

But as night drew close, an uneasy feeling began to creep in. The family was new here, and they hadn't spent four nights in the mansion yet. Was the legend of Nemona merely a tale, or was there truth to it? And if it was true, did that mean the Winstons were in danger?

I decided then, I couldn't leave them unprotected, not without at least warning them of the legend. I needed to find the right moment to discuss it with Gilbert. And I hoped, for the sake of the innocent laughter that filled the mansion, that the legend remained just that—a legend.