Velessa opened her eyes, waking up beneath an unfamiliar roof.
The ceiling was patterned with tiny cracks. Morning light slipped through the curtains, creating long shadows across the floor. For a moment, she didn't move, she just continued laying in the bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the last days replaying faintly in her mind.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Her horns were aching, still unused to the large pillow.
She sighed, dragging herself out of the bed. Her feet touched the cold floor, and she shivered. The room still smelled faintly of dust and old flowers.
Velessa glanced around. With the sun casting everything in clearer detail, she took in the space around her; a mirror hung above the desk, its glass slightly fogged at the edges. A small shelf stood beside it, holding a few books. In the far right corner, a wooden chair sat.
A gentle knock interrupted the quiet atmosphere.
Velessa turned toward the door just as it creaked open. Peter stood there, looking as if he'd been up all night. He held a tray with a cup of tea and a small plate of bread and cheese.
"You're up."
He said simply, stepping inside and placing the tray on the desk.
"Eat first. Your tutor arrives soon."
Velessa blinked at him, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Tutor?"
Peter gave a slow nod, crossing his arms.
"You'll be learning magic, history, behavior… and how to not look like a cryptid in public."
She frowned. "What's a cryptid?"
Peter chuckled, clearly amused by her confusion.
"You, obviously."
And with that, he vanished down the hall before she could ask another question.
She stood in the hallway for a moment, staring after him.
"…I'm not a cryptid." she muttered while pouting, though she didn't even know what the word meant. Then she sat on the desk and started eating.
While the food wasn't bad or anything. It still felt bland compared to Esme's. She finished the last bite slowly, then pushed the plate aside.
Her gaze drifted to the mirror above the desk. Her black hair shone under the sunlight, almost as if absorbing every single ray. Two small, curvy horns, smooth and charcoal-colored, curved gently from beneath her hair, barely visible. Her snakelike eyes were a light violet with flickers of gold near the pupils, they mesmerized anyone if they looked at them for long times. Her skin was pale even after bathing under the sun constantly.
"Mother should have named me Snowhite."
She giggled at her own reflection, but the sound faded quickly into silence.
It hurt...
Velessa leaned forward and sniffed under her arm, then recoiled instantly, blocking her nose with her hand in disgust.
"Ugh... definitely not Snowhite," she muttered, hopping off the chair.
She started going around the manor searching for Peter. She tiptoed into the hallway, the wooden floor creaking beneath her bare feet. The manor was quiet, save for the distant ticking of a clock and the occasional creak of the walls. Portraits watched her from the walls, following her every move.
"Peter?" she called softly, peeking into one room after another.
Most were filled with old furniture and books, from which it was obvious that they hadn't been touched in years. A few rooms were locked entirely. She passed the sitting room, where faint traces of last night's fire still clung to the fireplace, and eventually reached a door that was slightly open.
She raised her hand, hesitated, then knocked.
No answer.
"…Peter?"
She opened the door and stepped into his study.
A couple of towering bookshelves framed her view. The room was dim, lit only by the hazy morning light filtering through a gap in the curtains. It was a typical study. A large desk sat at the center, papers and notes thrown across its surface, and behind it, a worn leather chair, its back turned slightly. Every wall was lined with shelves, each one looking as if it was about to break from the weight of thick tomes and dust-covered volumes. The air smelled of parchment, ink, and something sharper, a faint trace of wine .
She approached the desk and, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, slid into the leather chair. It creaked softly under her weight as she gave it a slow spin, once, twice, a third time, her legs dangling slightly off the edge. When the chair came to a stop, she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk, gazing over the surface.
Stacks of letters were scattered across it, some neatly closed, others half-opened with scribbled notes along the margins. A quill rested in a dried inkpot, and beside it lay a couple of glass shards, still stained red from last night's wine.
A few strange trinkets sat between the notes: stones etched with runes, an hourglass, and a map with frayed edges.
The map stretched wide, displaying the known world in fading ink. But a third of it was blacked out-scratched over with harsh lines , as though someone had tried to erase not just places but memories. Lands that once held names and meaning were now drowned in darkness, now hidden behind the ink, as if it had a deeper meaning, as if hiding more than loss, perhaps guilt, perhaps fear.
She scratched her head and then rolled up the map and placed it in her pockets.
'I will ask him later about it.'
She spun once more in the chair before hopping off and heading toward the door. As she left, the soft creak of the floorboards followed her, echoing faintly behind.
Imagine if the chair broke fufufu
'I should return to my room.'
She started ascending up the stairs when something caught her eye: a narrow passage built beneath the staircase, partially hidden by shadows. A short set of stone steps led downward, vanishing into the shadows.
Velessa paused, glancing between the two paths. Her curiosity devoured any self-control she had.
'It wouldn't hurt if i checked the basement.'
She started descending the stairs towards the shadows.
'Probably?'
Soon a metal door appeared before her. She twisted the handle, but the door refused to budge. Suddenly she slammed herself into the door, expecting it to give up under her mighty power. Yet the only thing she managed to do was hurt her arm.
"Ouch."
She shook her hand, wincing at the sting. The metal door stood completely still, untouched by her heroic effort, as if mocking her draconic might.
Velessa narrowed her eyes at it.
"I said probably," she muttered, rubbing her sore arm. "Stupid door."
With one last hateful glance at the door, she turned away, her curiosity now transformed into disappointment.
Just as she entered the entry hall again, its exit opened.
Peter stepped inside first, brushing leaves off his coat, while a beautiful woman beside him followed with a slow, elegant stride. Her green hair flowed down her back like a curtain of vines, and her eyes glimmered with an unsettling calm.
Velessa blinked.