The Horizon

Chapter Three

A paralysing cold envelops my body as my eyes focus in on the new setting around me.

I can feel each goosebump develop over every centimetre of my skin, despite the long-sleeved clothing I wear. No amount of layering could do anything to stop the wind chill that surrounds me.

The Black-Riddle estate looms over Mattheo and me. Its appearance is menacing, even from a meagre outside glance. The house is three stories above ground, with an additional floor built under the surface level. I've rarely visited the basement, only when it was forced upon me by my mother.

Mattheo lets out a long-held sigh beside me and when I turn my head, I notice his eyes are shut, arms wrapped around his body. After a moment, he turns to look at me and says, exasperated, "Let's just get this shit over with." He starts walking toward the already open front gate; it takes me a few seconds before I can work up the courage to follow.

The walk up the drive of the estate takes just under two minutes, though time seems to pass much slower than reality here. As I grow closer to the house, my heartbeat quickens. My worries of coming back here are heightened today. It is Christmas break, after all. We were meant to remain at the castle for the holiday, until we received a letter from Jacques, the primary housekeeper. Which read:

Miss Cella Black-Riddle,

Your attendance is required for the duration of the Christmas holidays. Your brother, Mattheo Black-Riddle, has been alerted to this demand as well. Mistress Bellatrix Black is expecting no less than your presence.

Jacques Prinem

My heart dropped when I received the post via Vilis. Mattheo looked up at me when he received a very similar letter. We were entirely set on remaining at Hogwarts. Leave it to Bella to disrupt plans at any chance she gets.

Jacques greets us at the door, dressed in his typical formal attire: black trousers, white button-up, and a black coat over his top. "Mister Mattheo and Miss Cella, welcome home."

Home isn't the term I would use for this place; a house doesn't make a home.

Mattheo walks in ahead of me, we both give Jacques the traditional nod in notice as he closes the door behind us.

"The bags you have brought will be taken to your rooms. Mistress Black requests you in the dining room as soon as possible," he says. Jacques turns to walk away but stops in his tracks. He turns toward us, leaning forward slightly to add, "I would suggest you attend immediately." With that, he leans back to his regular stance, turns, and walks away into the first kitchen.

"Is it just me or was he far too happy to say that?" Mattheo says, jamming both of his hands into his trouser pockets.

Now that he mentions it, that smirk on Jacque's face was all but comforting.

I don't say anything back to Mattheo, just shrug and turn to my left, where a portrait of one of our ancestors' stares at me, silently judging. I step toward her frame, giving her a similar glare before stepping to the side and looking into the mirror in our entryway.

My skin colour has gone ghostlike. Haunted. The white lighting is doing nothing to help my complexion. Black hair falls a few inches below my shoulders, splaying out across the very top of my chest. I reach a hand up and drag it along my left cheek, pressing lightly. I don't know how I've let myself get like this. My mind so consumed by the anxiety of returning here that I've allowed myself to slip from taking care of my basic needs.

Mattheo places a hand on my right shoulder, "We should go." His voice is low, solemn in tone.

Slowly, I turn to him and nod. He reaches down and grasps my hand, squeezing tightly like he used to do when we were much younger children. A simple act of reassurance.