In the Light of the Moon

|SEVEN

As soon as I walked through, the scenery around me morphed. Instead of the forest, I stood in the same meadow with the white flowers that I painted a week and a half ago. And in which triggered a vision. Now that I think about it, that must have been a memory. I headed toward the manor in the foreground—the voice inside me told me the mansion is mine.

I made out more details as I drew closer. The white flowers stretched all the way up until the walls of the house prohibited it. The exterior reminded me of something in eighteenth-century Europe. The walls seemed to touch the Heavens, and windows with black curtains peeked out everywhere.

I placed my hand on the old wood of the door. Alarmingly, the triangle mark on my wrist started to get hot and tingle. Then it turned a dazzling silver. I frowned; is that a good thing? I hope it is—I remember it went silver back when it first appeared. Maybe it's the house recognizing me—it's not the most outrageous thing to happen. Then my mark cooled off and faded back to black.

I turned the knob and stepped into my estate. My estate—what a wild topic. I paused and blinked. Why is the interior so much bigger than the exterior? I moved outside and compared it. They're definitely different sizes. What a cool enchantment!

The room I walked into is the Main Hall. White marble swirled with black and silver tendrils laid beneath my feet, and a vaulted ceiling adorned with a beautiful crystal chandelier hung above my head. An overhanging balcony leading to other rooms stretched around the walls of the room. In the center of the Main Hall, two black velvet couches rested back-to-back.

A grand marble staircase with black railings to my right invited me to climb it—and I did. Once on the second floor, I noticed a black velvet covered the marble—small tables with vases of the white flowers from outside decorated here and there. As I roamed the halls, I made a note of the rooms. I counted two gigantic libraries, two dining rooms—one more lavish than the second—a massive kitchen, two dozen parlors, and I lost count at forty bedrooms.

The vast and magnificent ballroom was my favorite room. The ballroom had polished marble floors, ornate chandeliers hanging everywhere, and billowing drapes framed ceiling-to-floor windows. Black and silver and the English Baroque style seemed to be the theme of the house.

The one question I had was where the staff was. Did they all leave?

Then I came upon a bedroom at the end of a corridor. I gasped—this room belongs to me. I don't know how I knew, but I did. I slowly pushed open the door and scanned the room. A king-sized four-poster bed laid off to my right with a black comforter. Mahogany bookshelves lined one of the walls, and windows almost reached the ceiling, starting at the carpeting. On the left, a mahogany tea-table rested with matching cushioned chairs. In the center of the wall in front of me, a giant fireplace stood.

I spotted French doors that led to a balcony. I approached it; on the balcony were a few chairs and tables. But the view made it all the better—I could see for miles. Back inside, I moved to the wardrobe. Dresses mostly made up the ranks. But I spotted shoes, bras and underwear, a few pairs of pants, a couple of blouses, and nightwear.

Another thing I wondered about: How did this place stay in such pristine condition without anyone dusting or sweeping?

Now that I explored all of the mansion, I knew I had to leave before the time forces me to stay the night. I made my way back to the Main Hall. Although this place rivals a labyrinth, the direction I need to take immediately popped into my head. I guess I still remember. But as I neared, I heard voices.

I stopped; friend or foe?

"—really think it's her?" spoke a man. His voice had a raspy element to it.