The White Raven

PART I

Blair
The carriage jostled as we rolled down yet another hill. All the curtains were a washed out grey, faded from the dust inside this stuffy box. I hoped to leave Brighton in some form of comfort, however this changed as soon as I sat down on these rock hard pillows.

The thick velvet curtains sealed me away from the outside - slightly grey and gloomy - countryside. Restlessly I pried open the curtains barely an inch, a small ray of sunlight filtered through the glass lighting the whole carriage room up. Leaning in, I see an emerald sea of paddocks and a few lonely oak trees, with same kind of sky Brighton had. The drab shade of grey overcast that bleached the scenery of colour.

At first the average person would mistake this place as mere countryside but look deeper and you'll find a dangerous forest awaiting you. From my narrow view, I spot a vast clip of dark green. I shift in my cushion seeing a dark black figure in the distant forest, it appears small, perhaps another cottage.
But as we get closer, the humble building turns a great deal bigger, it could even pass for a small castle.
My mind races, I struggle to keep calm, breathing steadily.
Will this be my new home? Not Forever. I reassured myself, not that I'm eager to go back to Brighton.

The carriage may be old but it certainly isn't far away from beautiful . There's black and gold wallpaper plastered everywhere, I focus on the marigold and saffron peonies with shimmering onyx. It reminded me of my Grandmothers jewellery box filled to the brim with gold and crystals of all colours. I feel the trot of the horses come to a halt beneath me, flustered I steal one last glance at the window, at the outside world. A bare patch of green so silent compared to Brighton; the city I'd rather forget.

I scramble around for my black leather suitcase pulling out a study journal and a fountain pen. It can't look like I've been daydreaming all these hours. Currently I'm studying mathematics - the only thing I'm good at. The Duke has even supplied me with everything crucial to learn.

My thoughts are shattered by the rough pull of the door causing my ink pen to drizzle ink on my equations. The coach driver appears with eyes like the winter wind. He doesn't greet me instead dumps my suitcase on the gravel. As I step out of the carriage, I am instantaneous eaten alive by the icy breeze. It bites into my midnight dress that pools at my feet.

I lock eyes with the estate, the I'm sure was built by demons. The black Rose. Arched windows with splinters of frost crusting the edges, four small bell towers and a thorny gate with a crest like to feathery wings. The horses' hooves clunked against the gravel and it dawns on me I'm now stuck here.

Perched on the metal bar is a group of inky birds fighting over a scrap of food, one bird stops its rummaging and turns its head. A shiny black eye fixes on me, I go to look away finding it once again competing for food scraps. Peculiar.

A woman not much older than thirty stands unaffected by the cold; she has her health Silver hair tied up in a merciless bun.

"Blair," she calls her voice like melted iron, "this way."