ECLIPSED

CHAPTER 12

Lea wiped the sweat off her brow as she stood near the kitchen doorway, her arms aching from the hours spent helping the kitchen staff. The cook, a stout elf with a sour demeanor, had scolded her relentlessly. Her hands still stung from the heat of the pots and pans she had struggled to manage.

"Clumsy human!" the cook had shouted earlier. "How many times do I have to tell you? This is not your world where everything is sloppy and tasteless!" The elf had yanked the spoon from her hand, scoffing at her attempts to stir a pot of soup. "You're more of a mess than you're worth! Out, out of my kitchen before you ruin another dish!"

Lea, exhausted and humiliated, had been kicked out of the kitchen and sent to clean elsewhere. Despite the overwhelming workload, a small part of her was grateful to escape the heat and criticism of the kitchen.

"Go clean the library," the cook had growled, pointing toward the towering doors down the hall. "At least you can't mess that up."

The library, Lea soon discovered, was nothing like any she had ever seen. The moment she stepped through the grand archway, she was in awe. Rows upon rows of towering shelves stretched out in all directions, filled with ancient tomes, scrolls, and books bound in leather and velvet. The room was enormous, with high vaulted ceilings and chandeliers that glowed with a soft, magical light. The air smelled faintly of parchment and aged wood, and it felt peaceful in contrast to the chaos of the kitchen.

"Wow..." Lea whispered under her breath, her eyes wide. She had never seen so many books in one place. Even the grandest libraries in New York City paled in comparison. For a moment, the weight of her exhaustion lifted as curiosity took hold of her. She began to wander down the aisles, carefully dusting the shelves as she went, marveling at the sheer volume of knowledge stored within these walls.

As she worked her way through the library, something caught her eye-a large door at the very end of the room, partially hidden behind a towering bookshelf. The door was unlike the others in the mansion. Its surface was intricately carved with elven runes and symbols that shimmered faintly in the dim light.

Lea hesitated for a moment, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. Her heart raced with curiosity. What could be behind such a grand door? she wondered. Without thinking, she reached out and gently pushed it open, just enough to peek inside.

The room beyond was breathtaking.

It was a gallery-an art gallery filled with paintings. Lea stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the beauty around her. The paintings were unlike anything she had ever seen before. Each one seemed to pulse with life, as though the figures within them could step out of the frames at any moment. They were vibrant and detailed, capturing moments of elven history, battles, and royal events. But what stood out the most were the portraits.

Lea moved closer, her eyes scanning the faces of the elves depicted in the paintings. Each portrait showed a member of the Pyreshade family, adorned in regal attire. There was a proud and dignified look in their eyes, an aura of power and nobility. The Pyreshade bloodline, it seemed, had ruled for generations.

As Lea continued to wander through the gallery, she came upon the last and largest portrait in the room. It took her breath away. The painting depicted the late Lord Pyreshade, Azrath's father, standing tall and imposing with a look of fierce determination in his eyes. In his arms, he held a young Azrath, no older than five or six. Beside them sat Lady Pyreshade, her expression soft and loving, her arm resting protectively around her son.

Lea stared at the painting for what felt like ages. The family looked so...happy. So peaceful. The Azrath in the portrait, as a child, had none of the cold, hardened features he had now. His wide green eyes were filled with innocence and curiosity. His father looked proud, strong, and every bit the warrior and leader. His mother, with her gentle smile, seemed like the heart of the family.

What happened to them? Lea wondered. Why have I never seen them here? She hadn't once seen any sign of them in the estate. Were they still alive? Or had something happened to them?

Suddenly, the sound of a door creaking open snapped Lea out of her thoughts. Panic surged through her as she quickly ducked behind a large curtain hanging beside the portrait. She held her breath, peeking out just enough to see who had entered.

It was Azrath.

He stepped into the room with an air of authority, his every movement controlled and deliberate. His sharp eyes scanned the room, and for a moment, Lea was terrified he had noticed her. She pressed herself tighter against the wall, praying he wouldn't come too close.

Azrath stood before the portrait of his parents, his face unreadable. For a long moment, he simply stared at the painting, his expression dark and contemplative. There was a sadness in his eyes that Lea had never seen before, a deep, hidden pain that flickered beneath the surface of his cold demeanor.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and left the room, the door closing softly behind him.

Lea let out the breath she had been holding, herheart pounding in her chest. She slowly stepped out from behind the curtain,her mind racing with questions. What had happened to Azrath's parents?