Nemona: The Witch of Scaranton

Chapter 9: The Enchantress of Strings

As I moved through the mansion, the faint echo of a hauntingly beautiful violin melody graced my ears. The tune was both melancholic and invigorating, reminiscent of ancient hymns from forgotten times. The soulful melody stirred something deep within me, drawing me towards its source.

Upon entering a grand music room, I found Beatrice, her violin tucked gracefully under her chin, lost in her music. The atmosphere was ethereal, with every note she played weaving a tapestry of emotions. It was then that a revelation struck me. Could she be the fabled violinist whispered about in magical circles? The legends and rumors of the magical community had spoken of a violinist with a unique gift, someone who could unknowingly weave spells and invoke ancient memories through their melodies. Watching Beatrice, the pieces began to fit together. Perhaps she was the one these stories spoke of, even if she herself was unaware.

I waited patiently for a break in her playing before speaking. "Beatrice," I began gently, not wanting to alarm her, "The music you play, it's unlike anything I've ever heard. Do you realize there's an otherworldly power to it?"

She looked up, clearly taken aback. "Power? No, I just play what I feel. It's a way to express myself. Why do you ask?"

Thinking quickly on how to proceed without alarming her further, I responded, "There are old tales, legends of a violinist who could bring forth memories and uncover hidden truths through their music. I believe you might be unknowingly channeling that same gift."

Beatrice chuckled softly, "Oh, those are just old family tales. Fairy tales my grandmother told me. I never thought they held any truth."

But the idea was planted. "There's an artifact, a locket, in this mansion," I said, choosing my words carefully. "Would you be willing to play near it? I believe your music might help uncover its secrets."

Still skeptical but curious, Beatrice agreed. And so, with the melodies of her violin leading us, we began our search—me for the physical locket and Beatrice for the ancient notes that might, unknowingly to her, reveal its mysteries.

The haunting melodies of Beatrice's violin provided a somber backdrop as I delved deeper into the mansion. Her music seemed to echo not just through the mansion's hallways but also through time. Each note seemed to connect with a story from the past, legends that I had uncovered in my many years of researching witch lore.

There was a stanza from an old witch's ballad that I remembered:

"*In mansion's heart where shadows play,*

*By the mirror of memories old,*

*The locket lies, in secret stay,*

*Guarding stories untold.*"

I had always been drawn to this particular tale, and now, being in this mansion, the lines seemed more real than ever. The ornate mirror in the east wing – could it be the "mirror of memories old"?

But where was the locket? And how was it connected to Nemona?

Thus with that thought in mind, I went to the east wing where an old mirror laid. Drawn to an ornate mirror with an intricate silver frame, I saw a fleeting image—a shadowy figure of a child, with raven-black hair. Nemona. As our eyes met, a chill ran down my spine. I could sense her, closer than ever before. Just as I was about to call out to her, a voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Miss Arria?" The soft voice of little Jasper startled me. The reflection vanished instantly.

I turned to find him rubbing his eyes sleepily, clutching a blanket. "I... I wanted some water."

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I knelt down beside him. "It's late, Jasper. What are you doing up?"

He hesitated, then whispered, "I see her sometimes. The girl. She likes to play, but... she's different."

I swallowed, my suspicions growing. "Different how?"

He looked around, then leaned closer. "She never speaks. Just watches. And sometimes, when she's around, I feel really tired, like I can't keep my eyes open."

I caressed his head gently, ensuring he felt safe. "Have you spoken to anyone else about this?"

He shook his head. "Mommy says it's just dreams. But it's not."

Distracted by thoughts, Jasper's soft voice brought me back. "Miss Arria? Are you okay?"

I nodded, realizing that this young boy might have the keys to the many doors this mansion hid. "Jasper, do you know of a special necklace or locket in this house? Something old, maybe with a gem or a picture inside?" He scrunched up his little face, thinking hard. "I think... I think I saw something like that in Mother's old jewelry box. But she said it was just old trinkets." Old trinkets might just be the key to unraveling the mystery of Nemona and saving the Winstons.