Outside

Silver ribbons of light streamed through the window, a pale hand catching its glory. It twisted and turned, dancing a graceful waltz with the moonlight. The soft blowing of the wind outside played an orchestral accompaniment to the waltz, slipping to and fro around and around. The last note played and the movement died down, the hand standing still within the moonlight’s loving embrace. Delicate and elegant, the hand appeared to be that of a women’s. The light bounced from her skin, still twirling from their waltz, allowing it to look as though it was radiating light.

“It’s finally done...” Her voice soft, a slight haggardness to it as she sucked in a breath. Her eyes dazed and hazy, it’s usual icy blue dimed to a serene pond. Grayish-blonde hair scattered around her in a lustrous halo. The ritual is finally done.

“Young Master Peyton, the selections have arrived. Please follow me to the main entrance.” A rough voice called out to me, forcing me out of the fantasy book I was immersed in. I briefly glance at the source of the sound-- it was Atlas, my butler. A mop of silver hair appeared in my view, no longer the dark color he had years before. His skin, however, didn’t seem to have changed at all. It still retained that sun-kissed glow he had when he was sixty. Nearly no wrinkles could be seen on his skin, which is quite the feat, considering his age. Though, it must be due to the occasional vials of succubus blood he is awarded. His back was arched at a ninety-degree angle (which is once again, something a two-hundred-year-old werewolf shouldn’t be able to do) as he held open the door.

Morning sunlight streamed through the “locked” windows, painting the mahogany door a beautiful red. A simple design carved into the wood seemed to be highlighted by the natural light, now appearing grande and beautiful.

“My Mother and Father?” I slid off the windowsill, closing my book in the process, and started walking towards the door. My fingers lingered on the cover for a moment, almost as reluctant as I was to meet my choices.

“The Lord and Lady are already waiting at the entrance.” Atlas smoothly replied as he straightened his back and started walking as well. “Your book?”

“Leave it, Father will be unhappy.” I glanced back at the cover. I didn’t get to figure out what happened to the king. A pity. “Their information?”

“Elora Asturias, a siren princess of the South Sea. The Fifth princess, to be exact, relationship with the Sea King is normal. Has a weak unique bloodline, alluring voice, song spell casting, and blood magic. Rejection is okay. Farah Del Bosque, low noble fairy of the North Forest. A doting father, however, their status is too low to affect Rosenstein Manor. Strong normal bloodline, fairy wings and light magic. Rejection is also okay. Selene Dunkel, a high noble vampire of the east. Relationship between parents is normal. Strong special Bloodline, shapeshifting. Rejection is okay. Frecia Lowell, a low noble werewolf. No bloodline. Rejection is okay.” Atlas’s voice calmly relayed the information as he sharply turned into a corridor. Unwavering, his voice sounded almost fake. This time’s suitors are quite pathetic.

“Appearance?” Nevertheless, I ran through the usual questions.

“Elora Asturias, blonde hair, pale skin, blue scales. Farah Del Bosque, silver hair, gold eyes, transparent gold wings. Selene Dunkel, black hair, red-brown eyes. Frecia Lowell, Brown hair, brown eyes.” Atlas glanced back at me, seems like he also knows that this week’s selection is quite pathetic. I gently smile back at him as I tucked a strand of blonde hair, which was too short for my ponytail, behind my ear.

“Atlas, it would appear that Father and Mother are getting more and more desperate, wouldn’t you agree? They must really dislike my single-ness, huh?” He hurriedly snapped his head back forward, a thin layer of sweat covered his neck. I waited for a moment for a reply, however, Atlas just remained silent and quickened his pace.

We passed by another unfamiliar hallway, brilliant golden light shined into the space as tiny specks of dust flew through the air. Disappearing and reappearing as they played a game of tag. Shining and fading, how beautiful. White walls carved with intricate designs drawled on, seeming almost infinite. However, I know that those “designs” weren’t just for decoration, but also for defense and oppression.

I glanced at the black choker on Atlas’s neck, tiny red rubies decorating its dark surface. Mother wasn’t the inventor for the war for nothing. Retiring hasn’t affected her brilliant mind in the least, or, that’s what Father says. Father can be said to be Mother’s biggest fan, claiming that without Mother, the Hundred Year War against the Mortal Gods wouldn’t have nearly been as successful. However, I feel that without Father, the War General, the war wouldn’t be successful at all. Either way, it’s a good thing that a few thousand years have already passed and the feud has been let go.

“Young Master Peyton, we have arrived.” A mahogany door stood before me, it’s wood a dark beautiful red. Elegant and fascinating designs spiraled and intertwined from one curve to another, like a dance forever stuck in time. Linings of gold twirled to the wood’s desire, only enhancing the beauty of its color. Soft sunlight shined upon the wood as it appeared almost holy. However, it’s once magnificent beauty seemed to have lost its shine in my eyes. Imprinted so deeply, no longer does my eyes widen from shock, only a numbness begins to fill my heart as I dread the scene on the other side.

“Open the door.”