Gilbert graciously offered me a room for the night, saying it had been ages since they had a guest. "It's the room at the end of the corridor, dear. You might find it cozy," he said with a twinkle in his eye.
The room was indeed cozy, adorned with vintage wallpaper and an ornate four-poster bed. The window had thick curtains, but I could still hear the wind howling outside. Setting my bag down, I found Tommy's pictures on the bedside table. Curious, I picked them up.
The first few were typical shots of the mansion - its towering spires, the lush gardens, and the grand ballroom. But the latter pictures sent a shiver down my spine. They showcased shadowy corners, with what seemed like a ghostly silhouette of a little girl, her outline faint but unmistakable.
As the memories of my own past bubbled up, I remembered tales my grandmother had shared about our ancestry. We descended from a long line of witches who, contrary to popular myths, weren't always out to harm. Most of us, throughout history, sought to maintain the balance between the mortal realm and the supernatural. The legends spoke of witches who could manipulate time, speak with the dead, and even breathe life into inanimate objects. Most considered these tales mere myths, but for me, they were a part of my truth.
Suddenly, the room's temperature dropped. The wind outside grew louder, its howl resembling a cry of despair. The flames in the fireplace danced wildly, casting eerie shadows on the walls. From the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of movement. A shadow passed by the window - swift, silent, and foreboding.
Then, a faint whisper echoed, a child's voice, almost a lullaby, "Four days to seek, a century to sleep, bound by the home, secrets we keep." The cryptic words seemed familiar, and I racked my brain trying to place them.
Feeling a surge of power, I began to recite an ancient protection spell my grandmother had taught me. As the words flowed, the room's energy shifted, the whispering ceased, and calm returned.
But my mind was anything but calm. Who was this spirit? Was it Nemona? What did she want? And what was the story behind the cryptic lullaby?
The puzzle pieces were coming together, but the bigger picture remained elusive. I knew I needed to tread carefully. The mansion held not just one, but many secrets.
YOU ARE READING
Nemona: The Witch of Scaranton
Fantasy"In 'Nemona: The Witch of Scaranton,' delve into a world where the legend of the Scaranton Mansion comes to life. As Arria Larkspur explores the mansion, she encounters a mysterious family, each with their own compelling story. But lurking in the sh...
