The gilded chamber pulsed with a suffocating tension. Moonlight, usually a playful companion, cast stark shadows across the faces of the Rlddle family, each etched with disappointment and simmering anger. Violeta, perched on a throne of thorns disguised as velvet, met their accusatory stares with defiance tinged with fear.
"You failed," her father, Baron Elder Corvus Rlddle, snarled, his voice like gravel grinding against bone. "The Alpha chose the gutter witch over you, his own bloodline be damned!"
Violeta flinched, her venomous facade cracking under the weight of their disapproval. "I… I had a plan," she stammered, "a flawless deception. The Alpha would have expelled her from the castle after he saw her under that Elf guard. But that Omega, she was lucky…"
"Excuses are like cobwebs, daughter," the Baroness, her mother, rasped, her voice as dry and brittle as autumn leaves. "They catch the weak, but the strong break through."
The words cut deep, festering in Violeta's already wounded pride. She clenched her fists, nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms. "I won't fail again," she hissed, her voice regaining its viperous edge. "This time, the Omega won't just be banished, she'll be… removed."
A collective gasp swept through the room. Corvus's eyes, usually cold and calculating, flickered with a hint of unease. "Do you understand the gravity of what you suggest? Killing an Omega, even an ostracized one, is…"
"A desperate measure for desperate times," Violeta interrupted, her voice dripping with venom. "The prophecy hangs over us like a Damocles' sword. We need the Alpha's favor, his loyalty, and that Omega is the stumbling block. Remove her, and the path to our rightful dominion lies open."
The Baroness, ever the pragmatist, considered Violeta's words, her skeletal hand stroking her chin thoughtfully. "But how? The Alpha won't condone an open assassination. And the labyrinth guards are no slouches."
Violeta smirked, a cruel twist of her lips. "Leave that to me, Mother. I have a little… surprise in store for the Omega. A trap not even Vernon's crimson eyes can see through."
A tremor of excitement, tinged with morbid fascination, vibrated through the chamber. Corvus leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with avarice. "Tell us, daughter, what delicious venom do you have planned?"
Violeta leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. The moon, a silent witness, turned away, unwilling to hear the venomous details of the plot that would unfold in its silver-painted domain. The labyrinth, its whispers ever vigilant, shuddered with a premonition of darkness, a chilling chorus foreshadowing the deadly dance Violeta intended to orchestrate.
...................................................…..
The moon, a celestial observer, cast a cold, accusatory light upon the opulent chamber where the Blood Committee sat in judgment. Violeta, draped in a veil of mourning thicker than her usual venomous smile, stood before them, clutching a tome bound in ancient leather. Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now clouded with a manufactured grief, the perfect mask for the viper slithering beneath.
"Esteemed members of the Blood Committee," she began, her voice dripping with feigned sorrow, "it is with a heavy heart, laden with the weight of prophecy and the future of our precious Institute, that I bring this matter before you."
She laid the book upon the table, its aged cover embossed with cryptic symbols that seemed to writhe under the silver moonlight. A ripple of unease stirred amongst the Committee, their crimson eyes drawn to the tome like moths to a flame.
"This," Violeta declared, her voice rising to a dramatic crescendo, "is no ordinary book. It is a chronicle of our ancestors, a testament to the struggles and triumphs that have shaped our legacy. And within its pages," she paused, her voice laced with a chilling whisper, "lies a terrifying prophecy."
A collective gasp rippled through the chamber, the Committee members leaning forward in morbid fascination. Violeta, reveling in their rapt attention, continued, weaving a web of deceit as intricate as the ancient spiderwebs clinging to the gilded corners of the room.
"The prophecy speaks of a witch," she hissed, her eyes flitting towards Rosemary, who stood frozen at the chamber's entrance, her emerald eyes wide with disbelief, "a cunning serpent disguised in the guise of innocence, who will infiltrate our ranks and bring ruin upon our Institute."
A murmur of anger and suspicion swept through the room. Violeta, her heart thrumming with venomous satisfaction, flourished a single page, its parchment yellowed with age. On it, etched in archaic script, was a crude drawing of a woman with emerald eyes, her features hauntingly familiar. She met the eyes of her father, Baron Elder Corvus Rlddle. Her father gave her a nod.
"Behold," Violeta spat, her voice dripping with venom, "the very image of this treacherous witch, captured by the prophetic quill centuries ago!"
The Committee members, stared at the image, their crimson eyes reflecting a growing animosity towards Rosemary. The air crackled with tension, the whispers escalating into a chorus of accusations.
Rosemary, her voice trembling with righteous anger, finally broke her silence. "This is a mockery!" she cried, her emerald eyes flashing defiance. "This book is a forgery, a fabrication meant to serve your petty vendetta!"
But her protests fell on deaf ears. Violeta, her viperous act reaching its climax, threw her arms wide, her voice ringing through the chamber.
"The evidence speaks for itself!" she shrilled. "Can we, in good conscience, allow this harbinger of doom to remain within our walls, jeopardizing the very foundation of our existence? I say, cast her out! Let her face the consequences of her treachery, let the sun cleanse the Institute of her shadow!"
The Committee, swayed by Violeta's venomous lies and their own fear, erupted in agreement. A flurry of pronouncements filled the air, each word a nail hammered into the coffin of Rosemary's innocence.
"Exile her!"
Rosemary, her heart sinking into the cold stone floor, watched as her world crumbled around her. The shadows, once neutral observers, seemed to twist and writhe, echoing the cruelty of the Committee's decision. The labyrinth, her supposed haven, now felt like a gilded cage, its bars forged from fear and manipulation.