Isabella stood in the silence of the grand hall long after Lucian had disappeared into the darkness. His words echoed in her mind: _"Do what you wish. Just stay out of my way."_
It would be easier if she hated him outright, if he were nothing more than the cold, arrogant monster he seemed. But beneath his cruelty, she saw something else—a glimmer of pain, of resentment, perhaps even a kind of loneliness. His hatred felt less personal now, and more like a reflection of his own curse.
But there was no time to dwell on what lay behind his sharp words. Isabella's survival depended on understanding more than just Lucian. This mansion, this curse—it all tied back to the deal that had been made centuries ago. The legacy she had been born into, without her knowledge or consent, was still cloaked in mystery. And somewhere within the walls of Drakmoor, she would find the truth.
Isabella took a deep breath and forced herself to move. The vast corridors stretched out before her, cold and intimidating, yet drawing her in with the promise of answers. She would not sit idly by while the world around her unraveled.
---
The night had fallen deeper by the time she reached her quarters, a small but lavishly decorated room at the far end of the mansion. The walls were lined with dark velvet curtains, and the bed, though grand, felt more like a prison than a place of comfort. She sat by the window, staring out into the blackness of the forest surrounding Drakmoor. The wind whispered through the trees like it was trying to tell her secrets she couldn't quite hear.
Her mind drifted back to her aunt, Lady Drusilla. Cold, detached, cruel. Isabella hadn't thought of her much since arriving here, but now the memories came rushing back. After her parents' deaths, her aunt had taken her in reluctantly, treating her more like an inconvenience than family.
---
_"Isabella!" her aunt's sharp voice rang out, commanding her attention. She was twelve at the time, sitting in the small, barren room she had been given—far from the grand chambers she had once known in her parents' house._
_Lady Drusilla swept into the room, her icy blue eyes glaring at her niece with disdain. "I've told you before, stop sulking like a spoiled child. You're lucky I took you in at all. This is not your home. You should be grateful for what little I've offered."_
_Isabella, always quiet, always afraid to speak back, simply nodded. "Yes, Aunt Drusilla."_
_"And stop dreaming of your parents." Her aunt's voice dropped lower, more menacing. "They're gone. They left you behind, didn't they? They weren't strong enough to protect you, so you have no one now. Learn to live with that, and maybe you'll survive."_
_She had said those words with such venom, as though Isabella's very existence was an inconvenience, a constant reminder of something Drusilla loathed. And yet, in those cruel words, Isabella had found a small kernel of strength. If no one would care for her, she would have to learn to care for herself._
---
The memory faded, but the ache in Isabella's chest remained. She hadn't realized it at the time, but her aunt had been preparing her for this—this harsh, loveless life. The years of neglect, the loneliness—it had all hardened her, making her more resilient, more determined.
But that resolve would be tested here, in this house filled with shadows and secrets.
Suddenly, a knock at her door startled her. She stood up, her hand hovering near the handle, hesitant to open it. Before she could decide, the door creaked open on its own, revealing an older woman dressed in simple black garments, her gray hair pulled back tightly.
"You must be Miss Isabella," the woman said, her voice gruff but not unkind. "I'm Agnes, the housekeeper. Master Lucian sent me to check on you."
Isabella blinked, surprised. "Lucian sent you?"
Agnes nodded, stepping into the room with a small tray of food. "He may not show it, but he has some sense of duty. I suppose he feels obligated to make sure you're fed and cared for, even if he won't admit it."
Isabella narrowed her eyes. "That doesn't sound like him."
Agnes gave a soft chuckle, setting the tray on the small table near the window. "The master is... complicated. But I've served in this house long enough to know he's not as heartless as he appears."
Isabella sat down at the table, curiosity bubbling up. "What do you know about him? About the curse? Why he—why we're bound like this?"
The housekeeper's face tightened, and she shook her head. "I'm afraid that's not for me to say, Miss. The master keeps his secrets close. You'll have to find your own way if you're looking for answers."
Frustration crept into Isabella's voice. "Everyone keeps talking about the curse like it's some unspeakable burden, but no one will tell me what it really means."
Agnes hesitated, then sighed. "All I can say is this: Drakmoor is a house built on old magic. Dark magic. The curse that binds you and the master runs deeper than you might think, tied to the very foundations of this place. If you wish to know more, I'd advise caution. Not all the secrets here are meant to be uncovered."
Isabella's heart pounded. The weight of what she had stumbled into—this cursed union, this dark mansion—felt heavier than ever. But she couldn't turn back now. Something inside her refused to surrender, no matter how dangerous the path ahead might be.
"I don't care how deep the curse runs," Isabella said quietly, her voice firm. "I'll find the truth. Even if I have to tear this place apart to do it."
Agnes gave her a long, appraising look, then nodded once. "You're stronger than you look, Miss. But be careful. Drakmoor has a way of swallowing the strong, just as easily as the weak."
With that, the housekeeper turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.
Isabella stared at the food on the tray, but she wasn't hungry. Her mind was racing. Whatever this curse was, whatever had bound her to Lucian, it had cost her family dearly. She could feel it—her parents' deaths, the mystery of her bloodline, the ancient pact that had doomed her—all of it was connected.
And if Lucian wasn't going to help her find the truth, she would find it herself.
The darkness of Drakmoor was vast, but Isabella was determined not to let it consume her.