Nemona: The Witch of Scaranton

Chapter 10: Secrets Within Secrets

After tucking Jasper in with a protective charm whispered under my breath, I moved silently through the dimly lit corridors. The mansion was quiet, save for the occasional creak of old wood and the distant ticking of a clock. Eleanor's room was situated in the south wing, its heavy wooden door slightly ajar. The faint glow from within hinted that she was still awake.

How was I to enter without raising suspicion? I pondered on this for a moment when Eleanor's voice reached my ears. "Is someone there?"

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open a little further. "It's me, Arria. I couldn't sleep and thought maybe we could talk for a bit."

Eleanor looked up from a worn-out book she was reading. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of curiosity and weariness, studied me. "Come in," she said, her voice soft yet warm.

The room was filled with antique furniture and the walls adorned with paintings that seemed to depict various landscapes. At one corner was a table with an array of jewelry boxes and trinkets. The old locket had to be there.

As I took a seat opposite Eleanor, our conversation began, weaving through various topics, from ancient art to forgotten tales. Eleanor, with a glint of excitement, began narrating a tale she had heard in Oxford.

"It was about a witch who was bound to her home, unable to leave its confines," she began. "This witch drew power from the essence of those who lived in her home, feeding off their life energy. The tales suggested that if she succeeded in feeding off them for four days, she'd be freed from her confinement."

I listened intently, my heart racing. This tale was eerily similar to Nemona's story. Could it be?

As the tale unfolded, it was evident that Eleanor, too, believed there was a thin line between myth and reality. She looked at me, her gaze searching. "Arria, I've felt something off since we moved here. I thought it was just the stress of relocating and the mansion's old age playing tricks on my mind, but now..."

I sighed, weighing my words carefully. "Eleanor, I believe the tale might be more real than we'd like to admit. But there might be a way to protect your family."

She shifted in her chair, a glint of recognition in her eyes. "You're talking about the witch, aren't you?"

I nodded. "Eleanor, there are certain inconsistencies in the tales surrounding Nemona. Every century, she's said to feed for four days and then goes back to hibernation. But if that's all there was to it, why does your tale depict cycles differently?"

Eleanor hesitated, then leaned in closer. "Back in Oxford, I came across an old diary. It wasn't just any diary; Supposedly it belonged to a witch from centuries ago. According to her writings, there's a celestial event, a rare alignment of stars, that happens once every few millennia. This event amplifies magical energies. The last time it happened, Nemona was bound before she could exploit it. But now... this alignment is happening again, in just a few days."

My heart raced as realization dawned. "So, if she feeds to her full during this particular cycle, she won't just go back to hibernation. With the amplified magic, she might break free from her chains entirely."

Eleanor's eyes widened in realization and fear. "The locket," she whispered. Eleanor glanced towards her dresser, her eyes settling on an ornate jewelry box. "There's a locket, Arria. Legend says it's tied to Nemona's binding. Maybe..."

I caught on immediately. With a flick of my wrist and a muttered incantation, one of the jewelry boxes slid open, revealing the ancient locket from the tale. It glimmered in the dim light, waiting to play its part in this unfolding drama. I held the locket in my hand. It felt cold, its metallic surface etched with symbols of old magic.

"This could be our key," I murmured.

Eleanor's eyes met mine, determination replacing her earlier fear. "Then let's figure out how to use it."

"Eleanor, stay here. It's imperative for your safety," I urged, my voice edged with determination.

"But I can help," she protested.

I placed a gentle hand on her arm, willing her to understand. "I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

Eleanor looked like she wanted to argue, but after a moment, she just nodded, a mix of gratitude and frustration evident in her eyes.

I left her room and quickly made my way to Beatrice. The locket in my hand seemed to pulse with energy. Beatrice was practicing, the soft lull of her unique music soothing my heightened senses.

"We need to harness your gift with the locket," I said breathlessly, explaining the celestial alignment and the urgency.

Beatrice, resilient as ever, nodded. "Tell me what to play."

"There's an old English ballad, passed through witch folklore. Its tune is said to resonate with magical artifacts. It speaks of mirrors, where truths are revealed and fates are decided."

She looked intrigued. "I've come across it. Let's give it a try."

As Beatrice started to play, I felt the locket react. Its pulse quickened, its aura shimmered, and the room seemed to be enveloped in an ethereal glow. Guided by instinct, I found myself walking to the west wing. The music seemed to guide my steps until I stood in front of an ornate mirror. The craftsmanship was unparalleled, but it was the reflection that caught my attention: Gellik, the guardian of time and truths.

He appeared as a spectral figure, his wise eyes examining me. "Arria, you stand at a crossroad. But remember, to defeat darkness, sometimes, you must understand its origin."

With that, the mirror swirled, and I was shown a tale from centuries ago. A young Nemona, heart full of love and dreams, was betrayed by those she trusted. In her anguish and rage, she turned to the darker arts, sealing her fate and binding her spirit to the mansion. Her heartbreak and anger had turned her into the dark witch the tales spoke of.

The vision ended, leaving me with a torrent of emotions. Sympathy for Nemona, anger at her tormentors, and a renewed determination to end this cycle.

I returned to Beatrice. "We can't imprison her again. We have to help her move on. Set her free."

Beatrice looked at me, understanding dawning in her eyes. She shrouded and sadness came to her face, but there was something else in her eyes, I could not figure out.