Cage Of Glass

Chapter 9- A Stranger in Glass

Brielle's footsteps echoed lightly through the stillness of the hall. The mansion seemed too quiet, as though the silence itself had weight, thick enough to muffle even her breathing. Every creak of the floor underfoot felt deliberate, as if the house were alive and stirring beneath her tread.

The air was cooler inside than she'd expected, carrying a faint metallic scent, like rain on stone. With each step she took further from the entrance, the dim light grew stranger. 

The walls shimmered faintly, and she realized the house wasn't just made of ordinary materials—it was glass.

The grand staircase banister gleamed under the low, flickering light, and the walls themselves had an ethereal transparency. Light warped and refracted, creating an illusion of endless corridors reflected infinitely back on themselves. 

Glass walls rose on either side, some tinted a deep blue, others nearly invisible, catching fragments of her own reflection as she moved. It was like standing in a dream, the boundaries of reality rippling and distorting.

Curiosity pulled her deeper inside. The walls were not merely panes of glass—they shifted with the angle of light, blurring the line between reflection and reality. 

She saw her own face in fleeting glimpses, warped in the curves and bends, and for a moment, it felt like another version of her was trapped on the other side, watching.

She reached out, brushing her fingers along the cool surface. Her hand ghosted over an intricate etching carved into the glass: twisting vines and strange symbols—similar to the ones she had noticed on the front door. 

The etchings seemed alive, as though they pulsed beneath the glass, waiting to be deciphered.

A flicker of movement caught her eye—her own reflection shifting unnaturally, as though delayed by a heartbeat. She paused, narrowing her eyes.

Her breath fogged against the glass. The tiny cloud hung there for a moment, slowly dissipating, when something strange happened. In the pale reflection, there was a figure standing just behind her.

A voice—deep, smooth, and far too close—cut through the silence:

"Good evening, Brielle."

Brielle gasped and spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. Standing just a few paces behind her, emerging almost as if from the shadows, was a man. Tall, refined, and strangely still.

He wore a tailored black coat that swept down to his knees, the material glimmering faintly in the dim light. His hair was dark, swept back neatly, and his eyes—oh, his eyes—caught the faint gleam of the glass around them, as if they held a shimmer of their own. 

A warm, knowing smile rested on his lips, but there was something just beneath it—an unsettling edge, like the shadow of a knife hidden behind velvet.

"Adrian Vale," he introduced himself softly, bowing his head with a kind of deliberate grace. "You must forgive me. I didn't mean to startle you."

Brielle blinked, her heart still pounding in her chest. She forced herself to breathe, brushing off her nerves. "It's...fine. I just didn't hear you coming."

He smiled wider, the expression both polite and unsettling. "This house has a way of softening footsteps. I suppose it likes its quiet."

His voice was warm—too warm, in a way that put her on edge. 

He spoke like a man familiar with charm, but there was an undercurrent to his words, as if every sentence held a second meaning that lingered just out of reach.

Adrian stepped closer, his gaze unwavering, studying her as though she were a painting to be carefully examined.

 Brielle felt both seen and exposed under that gaze, as if every part of her—her nerves, her hopes, her uncertainties—was laid bare.

"You made quite the journey," he said gently, his voice low and coaxing, as though the words were meant to soothe. "I trust the ride was comfortable?"

"It was," she said, trying to steady herself. "A bit long, but...comfortable."

Adrian gave a slow, thoughtful nod, his gaze drifting to the glass walls that surrounded them. "I must say, I am glad you accepted my invitation. The house has been waiting for you."

There it was again—that strange, ambiguous phrasing. Brielle shifted on her feet, clutching the strap of her bag a little tighter. "It seems like quite the place," she said carefully. "I've never seen anything like it."

Adrian's expression softened, though there was something unsettling in how intensely he watched her—like a cat watching a mouse just before it pounces. "It's not the kind of place one forgets," he murmured. "I built it that way."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "You built this?" She glanced around at the intricate glass walls, the labyrinth of reflections and shadows. "It must have taken a lifetime."

His smile sharpened slightly. "In a way, it has."

Brielle felt a shiver crawl down her spine, though she wasn't entirely sure why. There was no outright threat in his words—just something...off. Something that hovered beneath the surface, like a secret the house and its owner shared between them.

She turned her attention to the glass walls again, desperate to shift the conversation away from his piercing gaze. "The glass...it's incredible. I've never seen anything like it."

"It's special," Adrian said softly, running his fingers along a nearby pane. "Every piece serves a purpose. Some walls reflect...others reveal."

Brielle frowned, not understanding. "Reveal what?"

Adrian's smile widened, but his answer was evasive. "In time, you'll see."

There was something about the way he said it that made her uneasy. As if there were things this house wanted her to see—and things it might not let her ignore, no matter how much she wanted to.

Adrian gestured toward the staircase. "You must be tired after your journey. Allow me to show you to your room. There will be plenty of time to explore tomorrow."

Brielle hesitated, a flicker of doubt surfacing in her mind. There was something about the way he said it—plenty of time—that felt more like a promise than a simple observation.

But she forced a smile and nodded. "That sounds good. Thank you."

Adrian inclined his head and turned, gliding up the staircase with an effortless grace that made him seem almost weightless. The house shifted around him, the reflections on the glass walls rippling as he moved, as though they bent to his will.

Brielle followed, the wheels of her suitcase rattling softly over the marble floor.

 As they ascended, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking deeper into something she didn't fully understand—something beautiful, yes, but dangerous, too.

The unsettling warmth of Adrian's presence lingered in the air, wrapping around her like the mist outside the mansion. 

And as the glass walls shimmered around her, she had the distinct, unnerving sense that the house was alive—and that it had been waiting a very long time for her to arrive.

And perhaps, just perhaps, so had Adrian Vale.