Chapter 1
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In the heart of the vast and ancient kingdom of Ravenglade, a land ruled by old bloodlines and deep-seated traditions, lay the estate of the House Vortiger. It was a name that evoked whispers of reverence and caution, a family known for its lineage of power and quiet influence. The Vortiger family had long been one of the most prominent in the kingdom, bearing the title of Duke for generations. Duke Aldric Vortiger, the current head, was a figure of authority and expectation, commanding the same respect and fear that his ancestors had cultivated over time.
Ravenglade itself was a kingdom of rolling mist-shrouded hills, dark forests, and cold stone castles. Its name, they said, was given by the kingdom’s founder, who witnessed a flight of ravens descending upon the glade, as if drawn to the very heart of the land. The kingdom flourished under a rule as stern and enigmatic as the creatures that bore its name. The capital, Evernight, was the heart of power, while noble families like House Vortiger held sway over the far-reaching territories.
The Vortiger estate stood upon a vast hill overlooking the nearby village, its imposing towers and stone walls reflecting the family’s history. The gardens stretched wide and well-manicured, surrounding a tranquil pond where one could catch the moonlight on its still waters. This was not just a home; it was a fortress for the secrets and shadows of its inhabitants.
Ozias Vortiger, the youngest of the Vortiger lineage, was an enigma even within his own family. From the day he was born, there had been whispers—rumors seeded by his elder sister, Eileen. With his flame-colored eyes like precious queen opal, it was as though a permanent ember flickered within them. The unique eyes of the young lord were both mesmerizing and unsettling, lending a spectral air to his presence.
Ozias was slender and tall for his eighteen years, with a pale complexion that seemed almost translucent under the moonlight. He moved quietly, always appearing sickly and frail, as though the vitality had been drained from him long ago. His hair, a silvery blonde, fell in waves around his face, contrasting sharply with his deep-set, burning eyes. To those who observed him, Ozias seemed more like a phantom wandering the halls of the Vortiger estate, and this perception was only deepened by his penchant for silence and solitude.
The Vortiger family consisted of Duke Aldric, his wife the Duchess Celestine, and their two children—Eileen and Ozias. Eileen, the elder sibling, was poised and cunning, her beauty matched only by her ambition. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew her place and believed it should be unchallenged. From an early age, she had seen her brother not as kin but as an obstacle, a rival to her aspirations despite his apparent frailty. Eileen’s enmity towards Ozias was carefully veiled behind a mask of sisterly affection, a performance perfected over years of practice.
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The Duke and Duchess were distant figures in Ozias’s life. Their duties to the kingdom and their preoccupation with appearances left little room for genuine connection. It was Eileen who wielded real influence within the household, and she did not squander it. A quiet campaign of rumors, started by her sharp tongue, led the household staff and visiting nobility to regard Ozias with wary distance. She spread stories that misfortune followed those who got too close to her brother, painting him as an ill omen in a family that prided itself on its standing.
Ozias himself rarely spoke to anyone beyond the butler, Mr. Throne, who had served the Vortiger family faithfully for decades. Mr. Throne, an old and stoic man, had seen much within these walls and held his tongue regarding the many secrets he had witnessed. Despite the distance everyone else kept from Ozias, Mr. Throne remained a consistent, if reserved, presence, offering the young lord a semblance of stability in an otherwise lonely existence.
The estate’s halls were expansive but empty of warmth, filled with portraits of grim ancestors and relics of a long and turbulent history. Ozias spent much of his time exploring the darker corners of the house, seeking solace in its forgotten rooms and hidden gardens. At night, he would often wander outside to the pond, where the moonlight seemed to find a strange affinity with him, reflecting off the still water in such a way that it almost appeared as if he belonged to the night itself.
The family’s life was marked by formality and distance, even at mealtimes, where Ozias was made to sit at a separate table, removed from the rest. He was an unwelcome ghost at the feast, a shadow in the corner that no one acknowledged directly. This was how Eileen preferred it, and Duke Aldric and Duchess Celestine did little to alter the arrangement.
But it was at one such dinner that Eileen made her announcement, her voice carrying the weight of a command beneath its practiced politeness. “I trust we all understand the importance of our family’s reputation,” she said, her eyes resting briefly on Ozias, though she did not meet his gaze directly. “All members of the family must be present at the ball, without exception.”
Her words, though spoken softly, were a directive rather than a suggestion. The upcoming ball was a matter of great importance, a display of House Vortiger’s prominence and unity. Ozias knew that his presence was not truly desired; it was required for the sake of appearances. His sister would rather have erased his existence entirely, but she could not afford to let whispers of familial discord tarnish the Vortiger name.
As he sat there, listening to Eileen speak, Ozias felt a familiar emptiness within him, an absence of emotion that he could not define. It was not sadness, nor was it anger. It was a void, a hollow echo that resonated in his chest whenever he tried to grasp at feelings. The world around him seemed to pass like a faded dream, and he moved through it with quiet resignation.