𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘 . 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐓

𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈 É𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈 𝐄𝐒𝐓.

1994;

In a world not unlike this, people have duties they must carry out. Some follow Some adhere strictly to the prescribed guidelines, some challenge and go against what is accepted, and some who shape and mold their obligations to align with their own desires. For those who conform or rebel, the consequences are evident. But for those who choose to adapt, the path ahead becomes shrouded in uncertainty.

The third option is indeed where all things confusing and complex come to pass. It could run smoothly and without issue, or take a turn for the worse. Or, it could lead into a realm that no person could conceive, nor understand. It takes a person of intelligence and capabilities far beyond normal to navigate such a task, and here, the gods above take their role and decide the fate of those entangled. Whether one emerges triumphant or succumbs to an unfortunate demise is subject to the capricious whims of the divine.

"Right," Pansy said, straightening her back, holding the hefty book in her hands. "What should I dive into first?"

Viola idly plucked at the remnants of the verdant grass beneath her, leaning against the oak tree. "Just go with your gut,"

Pansy let out a weary sigh, her fingers delicately turning the brittle pages of the nearly withered book. "Crucis Black," she murmured, her voice tinged with intrigue. "Who was destined to be his betrothed?"

Viola responded with an air of dullness and disinterest. "A girl" she spoke, making the disinterest apparent in her tone.

"Quite the intriguing response, isn't it?" Pansy remarked with a touch of sarcasm, casting a glance back at Viola. "But if you were to respond with 'a girl' to your grand-merè, oh, she would be absolutely livid."

Pansy's attempt at a French accent on the word was rather mortifying, Viola winced, acknowledging the butchered pronunciation.

"That accent was absolutely dreadful," Viola remarked. "Besides, my grand-merè has far more pressing matters to attend to than interrogating me about the history of the Black family."

Pansy let out a sigh, as she followed the engraved letters in silver on the leather sleeve. "The Noble And Most Ancient House Of Black," she read out loud. "Salazar, this book truly is ancient,"

"It's been passed down by generations," Viola spoke, with an air of sincere surprise and curiosity. "I'm surprised Grand-merè even trusted to send it to me."

"It's because she comprehends the paramount significance of your knowledge on this subject prior to immersing yourself in the abode of Cygnus Black," Pansy reproached, assuming a motherly demeanor. "Now, pray tell, who did Crucis Black wed?"

Viola scoffed dismissively, her voice dripping with skepticism. "All this talk of the past is utterly useless," she declared rhetorically. "Why waste our precious energy on bygone days when the present is the sole realm of true significance?" Her words hung in the air, with a sense of defiance. "Yes, knowledge of their lineage may hold some value, but what truly holds worth is the  essence that dwells within the shadows, for it is from those shadowy depths that their downfall originates. Have you not noticed the tragic ends that befell them all? They were consumed by their fixation on their own history, neglecting the task of shaping their own destiny."

Pansy exhaled deeply, her voice filled with admiration. "Has anyone ever mentioned how you have a way with words?"

Viola simply shrugged, not perceiving anything extraordinary about her way with words. "A couple of souls, perhaps," she replied nonchalantly.