The servant led her down a long hallway and into another room. This one was smaller and darker than the previous, but it was also more intimidating. There was a large, wooden chair in the center of the room. The back of the chair was decorated with intricate carvings and symbols.
The servant led her down a long hallway and into another room. This one was smaller and darker than the previous, but it was also more intimidating. In the center of the room stood a large, wooden chair with intricate carvings and symbols on the backrest. Directly in front of the chair was a large standing mirror.
"Sit," the servant commanded.
Gwendolyn slowly walked to the chair and sat down. The wood was cold and hard against her skin.
"Look in the mirror," the servant ordered.
Gwendolyn lifted her head and looked at her reflection. She looked pale and frightened, her eyes wide and her lips trembling. Her hair was disheveled, and her skin looked ghostly against the dark backdrop of the room. She felt like a frightened cat, cornered and helpless, staring back at her own haunted, fearful eyes in the mirror.
"You are a slave now," the servant stated, her voice cold and harsh. "Accept it. Forget your past, no matter who you were or where you came from. Your background means nothing here. Cling to the hope of who you were, and it will only bring you more pain. This is your harsh reality now."
Gwendolyn could feel the servant's gaze upon her.
"You are nothing," the servant continued. "You are less than nothing. You are a piece of trash. An animal. You have no name. No identity. Nothing."
The words cut deep, piercing through Gwendolyn's heart and soul. She could feel the weight of their truth, and it crushed her.
"But the master has chosen you," the servant said. "You must be grateful for it. He has given you a second chance at life. A chance to serve him. A chance to live."
The words rang hollow, their meaning lost on Gwendolyn as she pondered the bleak outlook of her fate. She remained silent, struggling to process the harsh reality that had been thrust upon her. Her minds whirled, but she kept her thoughts to herself, trying to come to terms with the new, grim reality she faced.
To her astonishment, the servant leaned closer to her ear and spoke kindly. "Speak softly," she whispered. "No one must hear us. Every wall here has eyes and ears."
Gwendolyn's pulse quickened. What was the woman up to?
"I want to help you," the servant said.
Confused, Gwendolyn asked, "Why?"
"I have seen many slaves like you come and go. I cannot stand by and watch this cruelty. I must help you, but I can't do it alone. I need your help," the servant whispered, her eyes filled with compassion.
"How can I help?" Gwendolyn asked, her heart racing with hope.
"You must be strong," the servant replied softly. "Don't let them break you. Remember who you are and never give up. Know their tactics, understand their ways. Only then can we find a way to outsmart them. Stay vigilant, and trust no one but yourself. Trust me, and I will help you. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Gwendolyn replied, her voice shaking. She was filled with doubt. Why should she trust anyone from this evil mansion? The cruelty she had experienced left her skeptical of any kindness. Every corner of this place seemed tainted with malice, and trusting anyone felt like a dangerous gamble. Her heart wavered between hope and fear, unsure if this was a genuine offer of help or another cruel trick.
The servant smiled, her eyes glinting with determination. "Good. Then, let us begin. We don't have much time."
Gwendolyn took a deep breath and steeled herself.
"I'll tell you everything you need to know about this place. You must be prepared. It will not be easy. Lord Zoltar is a cruel man, and he will not hesitate to punish you for the slightest offense. Lady Rosamund, known for her own brand of cruelty, is no different. But if you are careful and learn to play their game, you can survive. And above all, keep your identity a secret. They cannot know who you are or where you come from. This is your best chance."
Gwendolyn nodded.
The servant gave her a grim look. "Now, let's get started. We have a lot of ground to cover."
Gwendolyn knew she had no other choice but to trust the servant. She was in a desperate situation, and she had no one else to turn to.
She watched as the servant carefully prepared her attire. The fabrics shimmered with an elegance she hadn't chosen herself.
With gentle hands, the servant applied makeup, a touch of color to her cheeks and lips. Finally, the servant placed a simple necklace around her neck.
"Wear these and try to avoid attention," the servant said, her voice filled with concern. "The master prefers his slaves plain, and he is easily angered. You must be careful not to offend him."
Gwendolyn nodded, absorbing the warning, then turned to the servant with a tentative question, "May I know your name?"
The servant paused and looked at her, as if weighing the risk.
"It's not safe," the servant said, "but I suppose I can trust you. My name is Maven."
"Maven," Gwendolyn repeated.
"Yes. And you?"
"Gwendolyn."
"What a lovely name."
"Thank you."
Maven said with a heavy sigh, her voice growing stern. "Let's not linger. We have to finish this up."
Gwendolyn nodded, her thoughts drifting back to the peril she faced. She contemplated, trying so hard to find a glimmer of kindness in this place. Now that she found one in Maven, she wasn't sure if they would meet again in the future. Fate, she realized, could be as cruel to the woman as it was to her.
"You mustn't worry so much, dear," Maven said, sensing Gwendolyn's anxiety. "Fear can be a powerful tool. It can be a weapon in the right hands. Use it to your advantage. Use it to stay alive."
Gwendolyn was unsure. She wanted to trust Maven, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
"As I prepare you, I must warn you about the master's ways," Maven began solemnly, her hands deftly adjusting the gown. "The other servants can be ruthless, and the guards and soldiers are unforgiving. It's a dangerous place and you must learn quickly to survive."
"Remember, these people have no mercy. They'll show no compassion, and they will not hesitate to kill you. They will use any means necessary to break you, and once they do, you are as good as dead."
Gwendolyn tried to focus on her words, but her mind kept drifting back to her family and friends. She longed for their comfort and protection. She wanted to return home, back to Breckenridge, where she was loved and cherished. But that hope had faded.