It Has Come

Chapter 1; "Like Any Other..."

{Seventeen years later; the fifteenth of April, 1859}

I awoke to a darkened room, as per usual. My black silk nightgown was crumpled around me from my restless sleep. I shook the curtain of thick, glossy navy hair that grew down to the small of my back out of my face. I stretched and got up silently from my luxurious queen-sized bed that, although it may seem comfortable, will never warm up to me. I suppose my weary heart doesn't have the strength to heat up. My long, pale, smooth limbs carried me to my wardrobe.

"Mistress Willow?" My maid, Claire, walked tentatively out of the shadows that seemed to be always pooling in my bedroom. "May I help you?"

I didn't speak, only extended my arms and allowed her to remove my night clothing and select a gown from my closet. Today, a long, billowy thing, in the deep crimson colour of blood. I put on my white corset on my own and she slips the red dress onto my thin body.

"Thank you," I murmur. I don't like to talk much. "You are dismissed." Claire bowed deeply and exited my room, shutting the door as quietly as a moth's wing beating. The moment the door closes, I walk swiftly to my vanity, the trail of my dress casting odd shadows on the ground, the fabric being illuminated from the cold light of a rainy dawn beaming softly through my half-covered windows. My skin gleamed like moonlight through the dark.

I sat down on the pouffe in front of my mahogany vanity and looked into the gilded oval mirror with the sides engraved with images of thorny vines and deadly nightshade. My thin, almond-shaped eyes had changed colour again; yesterday, they were a forest green; today, a deep plum purple. The seventeen-year old girl in the mirror changed every time I looked at her.

I selected an ornate, thick diamond necklace from my jewelry box and slipped the cold stones around my thin neck. One last look at the girl in the glass, a quick run through my hair with a mother-of-pearl inlaid comb, and I was leaving my bedroom.

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Eric, the nineteen-year old butler of the house, was stationed at the foot of the marble stairs, ready to escort me to breakfast.

"Good morning, Mistress Willow," he smiled softly at me as he bowed. His long violet hair was tucked back into a ponytail with a black ribbon to match his impeccably sleek black suit. "Master Timothy and Mistress Delphi have already left the estate to go see the landlord. If you'll come with me..." he extended his arm for me to wrap my own around it. "Master Timothy" and "Mistress Delphi" are my father and mother. Our shoes clicked in time on the cold, reverberative floors until we reached the dining hall.

A massive room, with soaring ceilings and a long wooden table in the center. The golden candlesticks that contained long white candles remained unlit throughout the days. The only source of light was the massive window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, allowing the dim, grey light to flow in from the cold spring outside. I sit down on one of the intricately gilded wooden chairs and wait for one of the maids to bring me my food, all without saying a word.

Genivieve, our house maid and cook, came out from the side door at the wall, clutching a silver tray with a matching silver cover. She set it down in front of me and Eric lifted the lid for me. On the tray lay a beautiful assortment of delicious foods; two pieces of white toast slathered with a heaping of raspberry jam, three perfectly grilled small sausages, a circle of fried egg already garnished with ground black pepper, and a tall, thin glass of orange juice. Genivieve came around again with a pot of steaming black tea and a delicate white china teacup. As she made me up my tea, adding in only one half a spoonful of sugar, I started on my egg. Eric sat down opposite me with his own breakfast. Eric and I are very informal with eachother; it's more like we're siblings than mistress and servant.

"Is there anything you might like to do today, Mistress Willow?" Eric asked me. He knew I don't like to talk, let alone start a conversation, so it was like this that he tried to coax me into speaking. I wanted to respond, but at the moment, my mouth was occupied with sausage, so I simply held up a hand for him to await my answer. He nodded to show he understood and took a sip of his own tea. Once I finished my mouthful and swallowed down every delicious particle, he looked intently at me, waiting politely for his answer.

"I should like to go riding," I told him quietly. I'm not afraid of someone overhearing me, it's simply that I don't like to speak. Eric nodded again and rose from the table, telling me that he'd get everything prepared for me in the stables. "It's rather rainy today, Mistress Willow," he added, looking back at me from the high, arched doorway. "If I may, I'd suggest that you wear a coat."

I nodded in response. Most people would most likely smile if they didn't want to talk, but I don't smile. I don't think I remember the last time I smiled.

I finished my meal and rose from the table. Genivieve was there in an instant to clear my plates. I nodded my thanks to her and she bowed deeply to me as I left the dining hall, nearly tipping the tray she was holding that held the empty plates on it so that everything spilled off. Thank goodness she didn't; my parents would not be happy with her if she did.

I walked back up the marble flight of stairs by myself this time to get changed for riding. As I opened the door, I saw Claire already there, next to my wardrobe. Eric must have already ordered her there. She pulled out a pair of tight, black, sleek pants, a dress shirt the same navy colour as my hair, and a long black cloak. I had heard that the only things that regular girls wore were dresses; I was obviously far from regular. It had also been said that if anyone from the village were to see me in pants, I would be either skinned alive or hanged. I took that risk if it meant I was able to go riding.

"Would you like me to help, Mistress Willow?" Claire asked me in her same tentative manner. I shook my head to disincline the offer and she rightfully took it as her notice to leave. She bowed and left the room. I shook off the restricting crimson dress and donned the more comfortable clothing. Looking into my vanity's mirror again, I pulled my long hair into a ponytail in the middle of the back of my head. The thick navy curtain swung and bounced around merrily, reflecting my inner attitude. I felt it brush against the small of back. It would have triggered a smile... but, no. I won't.

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The long cloak billowing out behind me in the thick mist that immersed the estate, I walked briskly to the stables where Eric was waiting. He had the reins of my entirely black horse, Mystery, in one hand, and the reins of his bay horse, Hedge, in the other. 

"If you wouldn't mind, Mistress Willow, I should like to accompany you today," he told me. "It is very foggy, the estates are very large, and I would hate for you to get lost."

I nodded assent and mounted Mystery. Eric stradled Hedge expertly. I prompted my horse forward and she broke immediately into a gallop; she seemed to know I liked to go fast, all the time. Eric and Hedge soon caught up.

I could see next to nothing ahead of me. Eric had had the sense to bring along a kerosene lantern. The sky above was more easily viewed. I noticed a flock of cawing ravens flying above us. I knew they were ravens because they were so much larger than crows. But one among their number...

... what was that?

It looked like one of the gargoyles that adorned the balconies of the mansion; sleek, black, with a skeletal body and large bat wings. Its forked tail flicked from side to side with the wind.

I stopped my horse immediately. The ravens kept flying, but the creature had stopped, right above me and Eric. Eric stopped just a foot behind me, looking at what I was observing in the sky. His deep brown eyes widened. "Mistress Willow," he said in a clipped, stressed voice that startled me. "Follow me immediately." He spurred Hedge forward at a breakneck speed and Mystery and I were right behind him. "Pull the hood of your cloak over your head." It was an order, an order from a servant. Surprised into submission, I lifted the cloak to cover my hair.

A loud, high-pitched screech pierced the thick air.

The creature was diving towards us.