Lyria leaned against the pillar, her eyes fixed on the cotton field below. The sun beat down relentlessly, draining the life force from the laborers toiling in the fields. She shuddered at the thought of enduring such a fate, grateful for her position as a maid in Councilman Griffin's household.
As she watched, a young woman attempted to pilfer some of the cotton harvest. The laborers nearby seemed oblivious to her actions, their faces set in exhausted resignation. But just as the young woman thought she'd gotten away with it, a burly man emerged from nowhere, his hand closing around her hair like a vice.
"Ah-ah, thought you could steal from us, huh?" he growled, his voice like thunder. "Thought you could just take what doesn't belong to you?"
The young woman's eyes went wide with fear as he yanked her hair, her feet scrabbling against the ground. "Please, sir, have mercy! I was just so hungry..."
The man's face twisted in disgust. "Hungry? You think you're the only one hungry around here? These people are working their fingers to the bone, and you think you can just take from them?"
Lyria's heart raced as the man's grip tightened, his words dripping with malice. She knew she had to do something, but what? She was just a maid, powerless against the Labour Warden's cruelty.
"What'll it be, then?" the man sneered, his eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. "Shall I brand you a thief, or maybe something worse?"
The young woman's eyes filled with tears, her voice barely audible. "Please... anything... just don't hurt me..."
The Labour Warden's laughter sent shivers down Lyria's spine. "Oh, I'll make sure you're punished in the worst way possible, so you'll never think of stealing from us again. You'll be a lesson to everyone else."
With a jerk, he dragged the young woman away, leaving Lyria to wonder what horrors lay in store for her. She knew she had to act, but how could she possibly intervene without putting herself in danger? The thought sent a shiver down her spine as she watched the pair disappear into the darkness, the cotton fields stretching out like a sea of despair.
Here's a continuation of the scene:
As they strolled through the corridors, Lyria playfully rolled her eyes and said, "Miss Cecil, you're so worried about me getting lost, but I think you're the one who needs a map to find your way out of that strict expression!"
Miss Cecil chuckled and playfully tapped Lyria's hand. "Oh, you little scamp! You think you're so clever, don't you?"
Lyria grinned mischievously. "Well, someone has to keep you young and on your toes!"
They both laughed as they approached the physician's quarters. Lyria's laughter was music to Miss Cecil's ears, and she smiled, feeling grateful for the young girl's presence in her life.
As they entered the physician's quarters Lyria asked, "Miss Cecil, what's the physician's name again?"
"Ah, dear, it's Physician Elwyn," Miss Cecil replied. "And don't forget to curtsy and show some respect, young one!"
Lyria nodded and curtsied, her long hair bobbing as she did so. "I'll try my best, Miss Cecil. But if I mess up, it's all your fault for not teaching me better manners!"
Miss Cecil playfully shook her head, smiling. "I'll take full responsibility, dear Lyria. Now, let's go.
Here's a continuation of the scene:
Miss Cecil introduced the young man as Finnley, the physician's apprentice. Lyria's cheeks still felt warm from her earlier blush, but she managed a shy smile as Finnley greeted her with a gentle bow.
"Please, come in," Finnley said, leading them deeper into the room. Lyria's initial impression of the small, cluttered space gave way to wonder as she saw the array of strange and fascinating tools, shelves upon shelves of jars filled with dried herbs, and peculiar devices that whirred and ticked softly. The air was filled with a pleasant scent, like a mix of mint and lemon, which surprised Lyria, as she had expected a physician's quarters to reek of medicine and sickness.
As they walked further into the room, Lyria's eyes widened at the sight of a large, wooden contraption with brass fixtures, which Finnley explained was a steam-powered distiller for extracting essences from plants. There were also rows of neatly labeled bottles containing colorful liquids, and a collection of leather-bound books that seemed to stretch up to the ceiling.
Finnley smiled humbly as Miss Cecil praised his dedication to his craft. "He's a rare find, Lyria," Miss Cecil said. "A young man with a passion for healing and a heart full of kindness."
Lyria couldn't help but agree, her initial shyness giving way to curiosity as Finnley showed them the various remedies he was concocting. As they spoke, Lyria found herself feeling at ease in Finnley's presence, and she began to realize that her initial impression of him as just a handsome face was far from the truth. There was depth and intelligence in his eyes, and a gentle way about him that put her at ease.
"Dear, ill go in with Finnley, don't touch a thing." Miss Cecil said ,
Lyria nodded and they went in to the physician.
As Miss Cecil and Finnley disappeared into the inner chambers, Lyria found herself alone in the cluttered room. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she began to explore the mini library, running her fingers over the spines of the leather-bound books. She traced the gold-embossed letters, feeling a thrill of excitement at the secrets they might hold. She pulled out a book at random, blowing off the dust to reveal intricate illustrations of plants and their uses.
As she delved deeper into the book, Lyria became increasingly fascinated by the world of medicine and healing. She had always been interested in the way things grew and worked, and this seemed like a natural extension of that curiosity. A thought began to form in her mind - what if she were to become an apprentice to the physician herself? She could learn all about the human body, and how to heal it, and make a real difference in people's lives.
Just as she was getting lost in the pages, Lyria heard Finnley's voice calling out to her. "Lyria, be careful over there!" But it was too late. In her haste to respond, she had knocked over one of the glass jars on the nearby shelf, sending it crashing to the floor. The contents - a strange, slimy substance - spilled out, and Lyria's eyes widened in horror.
"Oh no!" she exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth. "I'm so sorry!"
Finnley rushed back into the room, a look of concern on his face. "It's all right, Lyria, accidents happen," he said, hurrying to her side. "But maybe we should clean this up before it gets messy."
Together, they knelt down to pick up the pieces of the jar and contain the spill. Lyria's heart raced with embarrassment, but Finnley's kindness and understanding put her at ease. As they worked, Lyria couldn't help but steal glances at Finnley, her mind still whirling with the idea of becoming an apprentice. She wondered if he would think her foolish for wanting to learn, or if he would encourage her to pursue her dreams.
******
As they settled into the carriage, Lyria's eyes fixed on the package in Miss Cecil's hands. "What's that?" Lyria asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Miss Cecil raised an eyebrow. "Just some herbs from the physician's room. Nothing to concern yourself with, dear."
Lyria's eyes lingered on the package, but she didn't press the issue. Instead, she asked, "What was wrong with Lady Kendra? Why did she need the physician?"
Miss Cecil sighed, her expression somber. "Lady Kendra suffers from insomnia. The physician's prescription was meant to help her sleep."
The carriage fell silent, the only sound the creaking of the wheels and the soft clip-clop of the horses' hooves. Suddenly, the coachman stopped the carriage, and Miss Cecil poked her head out to ask what was wrong.
"The road to the manor is blocked, miss," the coachman replied. "We'll have to take the road through the woods."
Miss Cecil's face tightened. "Can't we take the western route?"
The coachman hesitated. "The Royal Barrier is up, miss. We can't pass through there."
Lyria's eyes widened. "What's going on?"
Miss Cecil's expression turned grave. "It seems we have no choice but to take the woods. But, Lyria, I must warn you...the woods can be dangerous."
Lyria's excitement at the prospect of taking the woods was short-lived, as Miss Cecil's next words sent a shiver down her spine.
"Korvus," Miss Cecil whispered, her eyes glinting in the dim light of the carriage.
Lyria's head snapped back to Miss Cecil. "What did you say?"
Miss Cecil's voice was low and serious. "Korvus. It's said that if you venture too far into the woods, you'll cross paths with him. A creature rumored to devour souls to sustain his own life force."
Lyria's eyes widened in horror. "What? That's just a myth, right?"
Miss Cecil's expression was deadpan. "Many have ventured into these woods and never returned. Some say Korvus is real, and those who cross his path are doomed to become his next meal."
Lyria's mind raced as the carriage began to move again, the trees closing in around them like sentinels. She had heard stories of werewolves that roamed the woods under the light of the full moon, but Korvus was a name she had never heard before.
As the carriage continued on its journey, Lyria couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in her stomach. She glanced at Miss Cecil, who was praying silently, her eyes closed.
"What about the whispering voices?" Lyria asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Miss Cecil's eyes snapped open, her gaze intense. "If you ever encounter someone with the whispering voices, Lyria, run. Run as fast as your legs can carry you, and never look back. They are creatures consumed by an insatiable hunger, and they will hunt you even in your dreams."
The carriage fell silent once more, the only sound the creaking of the wheels and the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. Lyria's heart raced as she recalled the stranger from the market, the one who had helped her and whispered a single word in her ear: "Whispers."
Was he a Korvus? Lyria's mind reeled at the possibility, but she pushed the thought aside, focusing on the present moment. She didn't want to be a victim of the woods, or the creatures that lurked within.