The western wing of the Pierce estate was quieter than the rest of the mansion—not that any part of the estate buzzed with life. No chatter. No laughter. Only the dull hum of the wind outside, and the distant ticking of some invisible clock that Aaron couldn't quite locate.
Kain led him down a narrow staircase, their footsteps muffled by an expensive navy-blue carpet that stretched endlessly ahead. On the walls hung faded tapestries depicting battlefields, ethereal creatures, and crowned figures whose eyes seemed far too lifelike for woven art.
"You'll sleep here," Kain said, opening a plain wooden door. The room beyond was modest—a simple bed with iron frame, a writing desk, and a narrow window overlooking the eastern gardens. Everything was spotless, but sterile, as if no one had ever lived in it.
Aaron dropped his bag on the bed. "Do other servants live nearby?"
Kain stared at him for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "No. This wing is for those under Lord Pierce's… personal employ."
That wasn't comforting.
"Your duties begin at sunrise," Kain continued. "Wake Lord Pierce. Prepare his tea—he drinks black tea, with a single drop of honey. He detests lateness, disobedience, and dust. Dust especially."
Aaron nodded quickly, trying to process it all.
"One more thing," Kain added as he turned to leave. "Do not enter the western library unless summoned. And never, under any circumstances, open the blue door at the end of the hall."
He left before Aaron could ask why.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Aaron in sudden silence, broken only by the wind brushing against the windowpanes.
---
That night, sleep came in flickers.
Strange dreams danced through his mind—whispers from corridors he hadn't walked, reflections in mirrors that didn't match his own, and golden eyes glowing from the shadows. He awoke just before dawn, drenched in sweat, heart pounding. Was it just the exhaustion? The newness of this place?
He didn't know.
He dressed quickly, smoothing his ragged shirt and brushing his dark blue hair into something half-presentable. The mansion was still cloaked in darkness, but Aaron remembered the instructions and made his way to the east hall.
Finding the kitchen was surprisingly easy—everything in the mansion seemed laid out with unnatural symmetry. He located the tea leaves, the honey, and a silver tray, and prepared the cup with careful precision.
Walking the tea to Frankfurt's chambers, however, was far less relaxing.
The corridor to the master suite was dimly lit by wall-mounted candelabras. Shadows stretched unnaturally long. Somewhere behind a closed door, he swore he heard someone breathing—not asleep, not awake, just... listening.
He shook the thought off and knocked gently.
"Enter," came Frankfurt's voice from inside, crisp and clear.
Aaron pushed the door open.
The room was massive, paneled with dark wood and lined with bookshelves so tall they required a rolling ladder. In the center was an enormous bed with heavy velvet drapes, and next to it sat Lord Frankfurt Pierce, already dressed in a high-collared black coat. He sat in an armchair by the window, reading a letter.
"You're punctual," Frankfurt said without looking up. "Good. Most aren't."
Aaron placed the tea on a nearby table, his hands steady despite the intensity of the room. He opened his mouth to speak, but Frankfurt raised a finger.
"I don't require conversation during mornings."
Aaron nodded and stepped back.
Pierce sipped the tea slowly, his golden eyes briefly closing with what could only be described as contentment. Then he opened them again and stared at Aaron—not in evaluation this time, but something else. Curiosity, perhaps.
"You dreamt last night," he said flatly.
Aaron stiffened. "...How would you know that?"
Frankfurt tilted his head. "This house has a way of stirring the minds of its residents. Especially the sensitive ones."
"I'm not—" Aaron began, but then stopped. He didn't even know what he was about to say.
Frankfurt stood and approached, steps silent despite the polished floor. "The dreams will get stronger. More vivid. You may see things you don't understand. Hear voices that aren't there."
Aaron swallowed hard. "Why me?"
A smile tugged at Frankfurt's lips. "Because you were meant to be here."
There was no time for questions. The door behind Aaron opened, and Kain reappeared like a wraith.
"Forgive the interruption," he said. "There is a visitor."
Frankfurt raised an eyebrow. "At this hour?"
Kain nodded. "An emissary from the royal court. She says it's urgent."
Frankfurt's expression darkened ever so slightly. "Escort her to the red salon. Aaron—follow me. You may find this educational."
Aaron blinked. "Me?"
"Yes," Frankfurt said, already moving toward the door. "After all, you're not just a servant now."