1| Dream or Reality
∙☾River’s eyes darted around the strange room, furnished with antiques, settling on the flickering glow of the fire in the hearth as the restless servant's footsteps passed her.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes to steady her heart. Her mind was slowly drifting back to the room where she had woken. When the first light of dawn seeped through tiny gaps in the curtains, it gently pulled her from her dreamless sleep like a whisper of a spell.
River opened her eyes and with a slow, satisfied sigh she stretched. She sat up, confused, pulling the duvet tighter around her. A frown creased her brow as she took in the warmth of the cosy room, and before she could make sense of her surroundings, a soft knock on the door broke the silence, startling her.
Her breath held. Her eyes were wide as the door slowly creaked open.
“Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?” a familiar voice sounded from the darkened hallway. Her aunt, Clara, walked into the morning light, holding a long, dark grey dress.
“Auntie?” River stammered, frowning and nodding at the same time as confusion swirled within her. She blinked a few times, caught off guard by her presence, unsure what was happening, thinking she must be dreaming.
River smoothed the coarse woollen fabric of her skirt with her hands, catching her reflection in the mirror. An odd feeling washed over her. She looked different, but couldn't quite figure out why. Yet, she felt strangely at home, even though the place, the room in the house where she stayed, wasn't hers.
The dark grey dress with long sleeves River wore fitted her perfectly as if it had been made for her. Her chestnut brown hair was parted in the middle at the top of her head and braided into a tail that finished at the middle of her back.
It was cold that day, River recalled, when they left the cottage at the edge of the deep forest. It was a sigh that the Highlands would soon be covered in snow, her aunt had told her as she pointed out the distant mountain’s jagged peaks towering above the large house ahead.
For a brief moment, her uneasiness faded, and she wondered if her doubts were just her imagination, but as soon as she crossed the threshold of a grand house—Thornwall Manor—a wave of unease washed over her. A gut feeling kept telling her that something wasn't entirely right.
Outside, a fierce rain pounded against the windows as a pained groan echoed through the dimly lit room, bathed in soft candlelight, when a sudden loud thud and a maid's voice cut through her thoughts, bringing River back to the present.
“My Lord," a maid said and curtsied, revealing a tall, robust man with rainwater dripping from his soaked travel clothes, a man River had never met before. His dark, curly hair was wet and streaked with grey. “How are they?” The man breathed out nervously as he took off his coat and handed it to the maid who stood by the door, looking at Clara, somewhat surprised to see her.
“Sorry, Sweets, for taking so long,” he mumbled just before he pressed a tender kiss to his wife’s forehead, at the exact time as her face twisted in labour pains.
Clara, River’s aunt moved closer and whispered something to them both. River noticed how perfect they seemed together, like old friends freshly reunited. She told herself she would ask her aunt as she watched both leave the room.
River pushed her questions aside once again and instead decided to help the servants prepare the room for the child's birth, keeping herself busy. Just then, when she moved closer to the bed, holding fresh linen in her hands where Lara, the lady of the house lay, a cold gust of wind brushed past her with a whisper that seemed to call her name. River turned her head, following the sound, and froze in terror.
The room plunged into complete darkness, leaving the candles smouldering. River stood there, frozen, wide-eyed, clutching the linen sheets to her chest.
“River!” she flinched, hearing her name being called. “Are you even listening to me?" Clara called, shaking her by the shoulders. “Can you tell me what happened?” Clara’s voice sounded desperate, muffled, and distant, barely registering with River.
“We-I,” River stammered shakily, fear twisting in her gut, snapping back to reality. Her eyes were darting around the room in panic, noticing that the servants huddled in the corner, whispering nervously in the darkness.
“Clara! What did she say?” Lara, the lady of the house, called out, gritting her teeth in pain, clutching her pregnant belly protectively.
“I–I don't know what happened,” River stuttered, and before she could explain what happened, a shout from the corner of the room silenced her.
“A witch!” someone had yelled.
“What? No! You're all wrong!” River cried out in despair, unable to believe her own eyes. “I'm an ordinary," she yelled in defence, wide-eyed, confused as panic rang in her voice.
River spun around to face the servant, the one who accused her, and begged her to listen, but her desperate words were drowned out by more unjust accusations, echoing all around her, silencing her completely. Clara begged beside her, but she knew, it was too late. River had to leave and find her way home before the one who was searching for her found her first.
