Prologue
Once upon a time, there was a gloomy and miserable day. The clouds in the sky rumbled and grumbled, muttering their frustrations as they slowly passed by, glowering disapprovingly at the world bellow. They were grey and dark, threatening to flare with sparkling lightning whips- though they never truly fulfilled their promise of an entertaining sight.
Instead, they bickered with each other like old men sat on a porch, continuously barking some irritated remark without ever finding the energy to actually bite. And the rest of the world seemed to know this, as a wind playfully leaped and frolicked, tossing up tree branches and picking off their colourful, golden leaves. The canopies in the woods swayed harmoniously, seemingly dancing in the light drizzle that sprinkled onto the dampening earth and made the dirt road slick with mud.
On this dirt road, a carriage passed. It was an elegant brougham, large and spacious with two proud draughts pulling it along, one black and the other a handsome dappled grey. They worked together, heaving the load forwards as their hooves grappled for support in the slippery sludge, their nostrils flaring with smoky puffs that circled into the chilly, autumn air. Their backs were greased with sweat, their necks arched from the tremendous effort, but they did not dare falter.
Behind them there was the coachman. His hood was up, his coat drenched from rain, nose red from cold, and hands numb from the reins. In one he held the crop, a long stick with a thin rope hanging on its end like a fishing line. It swayed in the air as he held it above, willing the horses to move and they obeyed, for they knew he was in a bad mood this afternoon and they did not wish to be hit.
Hence, they struggled on, both pinning their ears at the other, each with a bitter conviction that they were working harder.
Meanwhile, within the chaise and four, there was a group of three: a man, a woman, and a child. The man was forty in age, with dirty blond hair, sickly brown eyes, and a moustache decorating his face. The woman was thirty, beautiful, radiant, with elegant, upturned eyes, a button nose, and thin lips that parted into an alluring smile. She was the picture of grace and class, a perfect ornament for her new husband as she musically laughed at his every cue. She was perfect… and ever so fake.
So was decided by the last member of the party: ten-year-old Charlette Carmine. The young girl was in many ways like her mother, with wavy oak brown hair, dark hazel irises, and an appealing oval face to frame her proportionate features. However, she always seemed a little lesser than her mother, her father’s qualities gifting her a slightly larger and more common nose, and thicker lips- even without her pouting. Her eyes were round and wide, curious with a youthful intelligence that was currently scrutinising the pair in front of her.
Then in the next second, those eyes were rolling to look out of the window as her childish face darkened to match the clouds. The scene outside did little to soothe her, the murky woods filled with haunting shadows as the rain created a misty veil and obscured the rest of the land. She had never been here before, and nor did she want to be, wishing more than anything to return home. Nevertheless, fate had different plans for her.
And right now, her future was at the Elwood Estate.
To most children perhaps it would be exciting to move to a grand manor. Many little girls would be leaping with joy in her place, excited to be adorned with pretty dresses and fancy rooms. But Charlette had no interest in such riches. She preferred familiarity, comfort, and most importantly, family. And she considered her family to be back in Dushmore, the one that her mother was ripping her from.
The carriage gave a small rattle, and Charlette’s attention was stolen by Lord Elwood’s deep voice, “Are you looking forward to your new room at the estate, Miss Elwood?”
She regarded him coldly, ogling his strangely curled moustache before replying, “My last name is Carmine.”
Silence. He didn’t know how to respond. His mouth opened, then closed and he gave a short, stiff sigh.
Charlette didn’t intend to ease the moment, but her mother gave a glare, a silent warning to be kind. So, she reluctantly obliged, “Yes, very much so. …I’m absolutelydyingto arrive.”
“Goodness dear,” Mrs Elwood giggled nervously, “I’m sure there’s a better word you could have used than that.”
Her daughter frowned at her, until Lord Elwood spoke again, “There’s plenty of rooms for you to choose from. You can have any that you desire. Once you pick it, we will have it renovated, hm? Furniture, carpets, wallpaper… you can choose it all. Won’t that be wonderful?”
She glared at him wordlessly, holding his stare for a good minute before turning back to the window and throwing her hood over her head. It covered her face, blatantly showing that she had no desire to bond- especially withhim.
Despite the lack of speech, the action was understood. Her stepfather merely exchanged a flustered look with her mother before the two ignored her entirely and returned to their own conversation. Once again, their smiles resumed, and the coach was filled with their giddy babble.
It got on her nerves, the exaggerated laughs making her ears bleed while her heart stung a little from disappointment. It hurt to be so easily forgotten… but she was grateful to be excluded from the small talk. She irritably yanked her hood further over her ears and focused on the raindrops running down the window. They slivered each in separate ways, occasionally joining together. Picking one, she occupied herself with their race, betting on her thoroughbred and watching them gallop down the pane.
A horse made of water would be interesting. She could imagine it. A silky creature, transparent, with sunlight glinting through it like glass. Suddenly, each droplet transformed into one, the rounded blobs gaining legs and heads and tails. Then her droplet lost, and her brows furrowed with frustration.
Nothing was going her way today.
Yet, there was no time to dwell on it, since through the hazy glass of the window a new characteristic on the road appeared. It was a stone wall, a murky granite pile of flat rocks layered one on top of the other. There was a metal, black gate attached at each end, marking the entrance as the horses rhythmically clopped towards it, their steps slowing when they squeezed past, and their hooves muffled. The path was made of gravel now, colourful little stones that tried way too hard to appear cheerful. They crunched and scraped under the wheels, the brougham noisily running over them.
On this side of the wall, the scenery changed considerably. Gone were the woods as singular trees now stood neatly on the edges of the road. They looked like soldiers standing in line, bare fields stretching out behind them with shortly cut grass that seemed tame and dull. There was no wonder in it, no freedom, no vibrance of wildflowers. It was all controlled, primmed and neatened… every drop of magic expelled.
It dampened the little one’s heart, her gaze becoming solemn and fearful as her chest tightened anxiously. Where was the creativity? The individuality? The enchantment?
Here everything was the same- nothing was unique.
Except for one thing, her eyes widening in horror. They approached the mansion, an enormous house bigger than anything she had ever seen. It was gigantic, with grey brick walls that had a creamy cement trickling through. There were three floors, large, rectangular windows lined up equally for each room. Multiple chimneys sprouted from the top, two of them puffing out great wads of smoke while the others remained dormant. And the centre of the house was marked with a large gable, pushed forwards to make it look more prominent.
However, that wasn’t what truly captivated her, for she was gaping at the fountain sat in the courtyard. No water came from it as only raindrops dribbled down its sides, dripping from the statue’s eyes and making it seem even more pathetic than it was. It was a sculpture of a rearing horse, though one could barely tell. The creature was feebly carved, its hind legs short and crooked, its front long and curved, and its face was utterly terrifying. The mouth gaped open, its eyes wide and disturbing, with its ears angled back, cut into short stubs that closer resembled horns.
It looked like a beached fish suffocating to death.
The carriage stopped in front of it and Charlette couldn’t bring herself to look away. It was appalling, a work of horror that even her excessive mind could never conjure. She felt sick from gaping at it, having half a mind to burst into tears and demand to be taken home to their apartment on 32ndRaxsea Street.
She was so fixated on it that even Lord Elwood noticed, admiring it along with her but mistaking her shock for awe, “It’s been there for generations. It’s so old that it’s become blocked you see, water doesn’t run from it anymore. But it is still a sight to behold.”
Charlette slowly rotated her head to him, blankly gawking as he haughtily explained.
“There are many more art pieces like it in the gardens. All from different time periods… come along now, I’ll show you inside.”
Oh joy, she couldn’t help but give a half-hearted puff. No one noticed it though, her stepfather stumbling out of the carriage first and holding out a hand for her mother to take. Lady Elwood took it gratefully, stepping down and intertwining her arm with his before they made their way to the house, leaving Charlette to clamber out on her own.
Forgotten again, she dolefully thought, hesitantly jumping out and looking up at the towering palace before her. It was ever so intimidating to a small child such as she, her frame beginning to tremble as she tightened the cloak on her shoulders. Her steps were gritty on the gravel, the uneven surface proving annoying as she shadowed the grown-ups.
They came to the front door, pausing because of a young, blond-haired boy. Charlette stood beside her mother, glancing up at her, then at the stranger who could not have been much older than herself. He had striking blue eyes, peering at her coldly while his nose was strung up in the air with a suspicious similarity to Lord Elwood.
Sure enough, she was right as her stepfather said, “Jane, Charlette… this is my son, Elias. Elias, this is your new stepmother and stepsister… I trust we will all get along.”
At this Lady Elwood curtsied politely, “A pleasure to meet you, Master Elias.”
The boy returned her gesture with a bow, showing similar courtesy as he beamed, “A pleasure to meet you too.”
Charlette studied him, watching his wide grin but finding that she couldn’t trust it. It reminded her too much of a snake, and she subconsciously frowned at him, not realising she was doing so until his eyes snapped to her.
He smiled even wider, “And you… Miss Charlette.”
She didn’t move at first, but a nudge from her mother forced her to curtsy with a muttered greeting, “Good to meet you.”
“Well, isn’t that just grand,” Lord Elwood happily said. “How about we sit down to our first family dinner? I’m sure all of us are tired and hungry after our long journey.”
“Oh, that would be lovely dear.”
“Cook already prepared it,” Elias told them, stepping aside to allow them through.
Their parents eagerly entered; arms still laced together as the Lord led his Lady inside. Charlette, meanwhile, ogled upwards at the dark windows above, lifeless and daunting. It reminded her of Auntie Regina’s horror stories, the books filled with ghosts and monsters that she wasn’t allowed to read but stole anyway. She didn’t want to go in… it felt like if she did, then she would be trapped here forever. Then again, she already was.
A chill creeped up her spine as she took a shaky breath. Then she carried on following her mother like a frightened fawn. However, before she had even made it in, her leg caught on something and she tripped, zooming to the hard ground without any time to react. Her hands automatically reached out to break her fall, but they didn’t need to.
Instead, they latched onto the boy’s outstretched arm, Elias heaving her up with an overly bright smile, “Woah! Careful there! Could have been anastyfall.”
She quivered as she blinked at him. Her grip unravelled from his shirt, and she nodded as she stepped to go inside.
But he grabbed her firmly and hissed in her ear, “Welcome home,sis.We’re going to havesomuchfun.”
Now she was frozen, feeling his wicked smirk against her cheek as he peeled himself away, and disappeared within. Unsure what to do, she just stood there, pupils dilated from fear and knees threatening to buckle. This wasn’t going to be as bad as she had imagined…
It was going to be worse.
