Lady Of Lake And Arrow |A Swan Lake Retelling|: Book One

Chapter 26

Ruelle - Deep End

By the way, these songs are from the playlist I made to listen while writing this story. It doesn't necessarily match with each chapter always.

At the peak of night, Elise sat at her desk, lighting a candle on either side. Calmness filled the atmosphere, both from the silence and the novices that were asleep. Only one person felt empty, void of the energy that usually told her of one's presence–and that was a very peculiar girl who'd become a close friend.

A letter sat atop the desk in front of her, and she took it, tearing off the Andalia Royal wax seal in the process. She skimmed over the words, lips parted slightly.

In the letter, there was an invitation.

At the bottom corner of the paper, there was Casrian's signature.

To the receivers of this letter,

You are hereby invited to the Winter Masquerade Ball, to celebrate the ending of this year's Christmastide and the Crown Prince's turning of age to twenty-one.

Please show this invitation to the Royal Guard on your way in, for it is a necessary precaution.

Elise knew the Ball would take place two days after Christmastide–that was Casrian's birthday, after all. Yet a small feeling of dread blossomed in her.

She let the letter fall to the surface of the desk.

–––

There was a time when the phantoms were merely shadows.

When they were simply nothingness.

And then, they turned into a form. Not quite living, but there all the same, with voices and hatred and nightmares.

Bound to a girl, who was as pale as snow and had the depthless black eyes that matched their own darkness.

She was an object to use, a host to take over. To others, she might look strong–unbreakable. But to them, her chaotic abilities made it all the easier to taunt her.

They would rake invisible talons down her cheek, her neck, her shoulders, until she shuddered and fought back. Then they would sneer and titter, retreating but not without a promise: We will come back soon.

They had been with the girl since she was a youngling–were with her in the first hallucination, the first scream of terror.

But she was strong. Unnaturally strong. So she never stopped fighting.

Her friends and family had tried countless times to help her with her so-called nightmares, only for it to end in vain.

And then started the whispers, which delighted the phantoms greatly.

She's turning mad . . .

Poor child . . .

Who knows what goes on in her household for her to turn out that way?

The whispers slowly poisoned the girl's mind, leaking and leaking until the girl thought about it herself.

The phantoms had hoped–hoped that if their torment would not break the girl, then perhaps the words would. All they wanted was to be free; to be released from their prison.

I am turning mad . . .

That was what she'd thought almost every day, but never said out loud.

Let go, they'd whisper.

She never did.

She kept staying put, frustrating the phantoms.