It is with great reluctance and no little hesitation I have decided to write down my experiences over the past year. I do this only to assert the coherency of my mind, to assuage doubts about my sanity, and I suppose out of some all too common desire to have my own perspective laid out in an easily articulated and comprehensive form, that I – if no other – may judge for myself as to the credibility of what I am about to tell. Know that I am Eustirel Castiel, second daughter of the House of Castiel, and that the things here written – strange as they may seem – contain my outmost sincerity.
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It was during the first snow of winter when my older sister - Liriel - was beset by a great fever. The recent winter had been harsh, with cold winds and heavy snow fall, and my sister must have fallen ill quite suddenly as the forest-man had found her collapsed outside in the forest. For many days we thought she would not make it as she was bedridden, weak and slipping in and out of consciousness. She would say the strangest things in her sleep, and twist and turn as if wracked by some great and terrible nightmare. The family doctor stood helpless and pale faced as my father threatened and bargained with him. ’It’s in the hands of God now’ was his final statement, given in a scared whisper. The pride of a secular man, broken and dead on the floor. We thought we were going to lose her and then - as if the doctors prayer had been answered – the fever cleared overnight. My sister awoke lucid, alive, not a trace of the sickness which had so ravaged her. We were overjoyed, Mother in particular who had taken badly to the entire affair. I must confess I was excuberant. My darling sister, the light of our house and my most beloved relative brought to deaths door. A dark cloud had enveloped my heart for days on end and had now been lifted. I still remember how our sister greeted us, bright, smiling, eyes flashing with an inner light. I remember the gentle joy I felt. I remember thinking there was something off about that smile. Relief flooded through me like sunlight. Oh if only we knew what was to unfold. I must speak of my House, of Castiel. It is most imperative that what is to come is grounded in a basic knowledge of our family and of our surroundings. Castiel is old, ancient even. We were among the first to settle these lands several centuries ago. As the realms grew and unified Castiel remained – a bulwark against time. Though marred by that same time, and though greatly diminished by the turn of ages, and prior wars and politics our lands remain a vast and respectable estate. Our mansion stands atop a great hill, overlooking the forested and uneven ground. It had been first built a mere two hundred and seventy years prior, and even with the occasional renovation the baroque and older architecture still dominated the building. High windows, wide and empty corridors, and a wide variety of strange creatures – their visages formed into the stone and woodwork all across the building. One may think us a mere border domain, but we are in fact not far from the capital. Forest and steel remain our main exports, and as the land is so is our lineage, tenacious and strict. My sister – I hesitate to say – did not share this temperament, or rather she took after it in her own way. If the rest of us were iron, sharp, determined, straightlaced, she was fire – passionate, fierce. Whispering tongues would call her arrogant – but I always took pride and joy in her confident dignity. I was sure it would be needed in the coming years. The truth is the mines had grown thin over the centuries, and while a generous bounty of ore still resided in the deeper hills their extraction had only grown more expensive. The income from our forestry was meager in comparison and so the finances of the house had diminished. Not to the point of disaster, but certainly to the point of unease. The internal strain of the house echoed the external strain of the kingdom. While the outward appearance was one of stable peace, tenacious rumours of brewing conflicts and increasing tensions with neighbouring countries kept surfacing. It was in this time of creeping dread and ill tidings that our sisters sickness hit us, and it was in this time that her recovery seemed to bring a brief moment of light to us. However, it was not long after her great illness that we noticed peculiar changes in her behavior. The servant’s was the first to notice. They would speak of a great mellowing in the lady Azurel. Of the great fever tempering her usual fire. Perhaps putting her behaviour down to a lingering weakness, some frailty in the previously unyielding frame of the young lady.
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My sister invited me into her room one morning, for a spot of tea. The clear winter sun filled her room with a golden light, and as I sat down with her we spoke at length. She quickly took the lead in the conversation, speaking of how glad she was to met me. She seemed so joyful. She spoke of small trivialities in a happy voice, and of how greatly she appreciated my company, and of how she was determined to do better and to be better and all I could think of was that something here was wrong, so very wrong. But the eccentricities of my sister were not limited merely to her style of socializing. I would often meet her in the library – I’d always appreciated that part of the mansion. A quiet, dignified place, steeped in old books, a place for contemplation and relaxed study. But before her great illness my sister had never shown a particular interest in it. Not that she shirked her studies – her grades were quite impressive – but rather that she held little interest in the old fashioned literature that could be found there. But now I repeatedly found her spending time there, descended into ceaseless study. And the subjects of her studies were strange as well. She eschewed the books on etiquette, fashion, and administration required by a lady. She also turned away from subjects of romance or adventure one might expect would have been their replacement. Instead she devoured books on history, natural sciences, and warfare. I could not help but wonder what she was studying for. But while such literature comprised her main interests it was not the only thing she studied. Finances, laws, and agriculture also touched her curiosity. What noble lady studied books on farming? It was strange, and I thought so at the time. I would be alone in that view. The servants quite took to her new and friendlier demeanor – but so did father and mother. They were just so happy to have their child back, they were delighted by her bright smiles and overt happiness, they put down the changes to her personality to the great shock of her terrifying illness. They were content to accept her as she was. Only I could not. If her changes were a result of the great fever, then why did she suddenly know things she did not before? Small things, such as the name of a servant she never cared for before. And why had she lost her other knowledge? Such as various bits of subtle etiquette - fundamental things - how to eat, how to move, how to greet others. And so I stood, alienated and alone, as the rest of the mansion grew increasingly bewitched. But if this strange situation brought with it a melancholic sense of dread, it was about to pale in comparison as to what would come. It would be little less than a month since my sisters recovery that the royal palace hosted its annual palace ball. We would both be in attendance.
Stolen novel; please report.
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In comparison to the stern and ancient Castiel manor, resplendent in its old glories, the architecture of the royal palace was graceful and refined – a gentle elegance of white walls and tasteful decorations in marble and brass – mostly abstract art in graceful flowing lines, but the occasional picturesque statue of a swan or lion helped accompany the overall impression. I was quite taken with the palace, especially in the evenings of great celebration where thousands of candles bathed every corridor, every corner of the vast and impressive garden, and every room in a soft and welcoming light. Both me and my sister had only attended the palace a few times hitherto, and we had much looked forward to the occasion. I wore the common colors of Castiel - black and deep red – but my sister had foregone her usual attire and instead donned a brilliant green dress, accompanying it with pearls of pure white. None could deny the striking beauty of my sister in that dress – a dangerous beauty – a beauty that could easily entrance anyone. It was no surprise then that, as we entered the main hall of the ball, every eye was drawn towards my sister. Soon I found myself observing from the sidelines as a small cadre of suitors formed around her, each young hopeful trying to impress with some jape or brag, many asking for a dance, many not daring to. I thought little of it until the dance with the crown prince. The relationship between my sister and the crown prince had always been tense, and it was with visible reservation that he asked for her hand to lead her to the dancefloor. A formal requirement of etiquette, with no genuine interest. And as they danced, this impression of mine did not break. But there was a moment when my sister leaned in to whisper something into the ear of the crown prince. The change in demeanor was immediate, and though I found it quite noticeable, few others seemed to. The dance that had been reserved became terse and the gaze of the prince that had been disinterested became cold and wary. After the dance finished, there was a scattering of applause and the prince, after giving a courtly bow, joined the crowd. He left the ballroom only a little while afterward. My sister danced a few more times before doing the same. I do not believe anyone but I noticed. They were both gone quite a while – if I had not known both of them and their relationship with each other, one might have suspected impropriety, but that would not make sense considering the persons involved – and I grew increasingly curious as to what was going on. I was half expecting some argument or verbal shouting match to have unfolded between them when the prince suddenly returned. His mood had gone through another dramatic change. He seemed elevated, energetic, as if some great weight had lifted from his shoulders. My sister rejoined only a little while later. They kept to separate parts of the crowd afterward though I could have sworn they stole glances at each other. An immeasurable strange occurrence. But the strangest occurrence of them all was after the party when my sister refused to tell me what had happened. She played it off as nothing, professing ignorance, repeatedly making claims that nothing had happened. And as she played it off well - and seemed completely earnest in her statements – I felt a pit forming in my stomach. My sister was hiding something from me. Something of great importance. But there was little I could do to assuage my growing doubts and curiosities. The weeks progressed as they do, and scarcely any events occurred to raise further curiosities, save for a persistent exchange of letters between the crown prince and my sister. I was not privy to these letters, and whenever I was queried as to their content my sister answered only in vague ambiguities and unspecific pleasantries. My parents seemed only delighted by the interest of the royal house, but for me my curiosity slowly lightened into a fierce and burning flame. And yet there was little I could do. If my uncharacteristically pleasant yet evasive sister refused to speak to me what was I to do? I might have conceived breaking into her room to read the letters for myself but so help me I still could not comprehend the sinister truth behind it all.