Nemona: The Witch of Scaranton

Chapter 16: Blue tone

The vast chambers of the Scaranton mansion echoed with tension. There was a palpable current of anxiety. Lionel's revelations had reshaped their understanding of the past, making each member of the Winston family reassess their place in all of this.

Beatrice felt an oppressive weight on her shoulders. The connection to Nemona was a Gordian knot - a source of strength and a heavy responsibility. The melodies she played were no longer just music; they were threads binding her to an ancient spirit and a complex legacy. Overwhelmed by this newfound knowledge, she needed solace, a place to retreat and reflect. And so, she found herself ascending the creaking staircase, heading to Lila's room.

Inside, the room was a dimly lit candle. Beatrice, clutching her violin, settled beside Lila's bed. Her younger family member's frail form seemed to sink into the bed, a stark contrast to her usually vibrant self. Hoping her music might act as a balm, Beatrice drew her bow across the strings, filling the room with gentle, soothing notes. The melodies, tinged with both hope and sorrow, danced around the room, caressing Lila's pale face.

As the notes enveloped them, Lila's eyelids fluttered, revealing eyes that, despite her physical state, gleamed with clarity. She leaned closer to Beatrice, her voice a mere whisper, fragile yet urgent. "Bee, I had a dream. There's another shadow in the mansion, that's as dark as night and hides in the dark corners. I'm not the only one who's seen it."

Beatrice, her fingers stilled on the violin, looked at Lila questioningly.

Lila continued, "Jasper has seen it too."

This took Beatrice by surprise. Jasper was still a child. Yet, amidst the family's current chaos, it seemed he too was being drawn into the web of magic and mystery. His innocent mentions of a "dark man" in his dreams, which they had dismissed as mere nightmares, now took on a more sinister tone.

Downstairs, the atmosphere was equally charged. Gilbert, his face a mask of frustration and confusion, confronted Lionel. "All these years, and not a word? Our own history, hidden from us!"

Lionel, his posture one of defeat, tried to justify his actions, "I wanted to protect you all. To keep you safe from the burdens of our past. Besides you would've not believed a single word and you know it."

Gilbert shot back, "It does not change the fact that Lila is sick and others have already been endangered more than once!"

The intense undercurrents of emotions within the mansion made the walls feel as if they were pulsating with life. For a moment, I wished to distance myself from the whirlpool of confrontations and revelations, to find some semblance of clarity amidst the chaos. My mind felt cluttered, distracted, not just by the Winstons' dilemmas, but also by the memories that Lionel's revelations had unwittingly stirred within me.

I decided to venture to the mansion's library, remembering a particular tome about spirit guardians that might provide insights into Nemona's unrest. As the fourth night approached, the urgency to find a resolution was paramount. Every ticking second brought with it a promise of more danger, and I wanted to be armed with all the knowledge I could gather.

The library was vast, its high ceilings dominated by towering bookshelves. An ancient chandelier hung overhead, casting a muted golden hue. I quickly navigated through the sections, my fingers skimming the spines of countless books, until I found the one I was looking for "The book of realms". Setting it on a reading table, I began to leaf through its aged pages.

But as I delved deeper into the text, my concentration was intermittently broken by flickers of memories - memories that I had buried deep within, hoping never to revisit. The ambiance of the library, the scent of old books, the stillness - it all bore a haunting resemblance to another time, another place.