Chapter Six
~THE COLD DOOR~
The servants' quarters were a world unto themselves, a maze of cramped hallways and warm kitchens that buzzed with constant activity.
Unlike the polished grandeur of the Wellenberg Manor's upper floors, this space was alive with the chatter of maids, the clanging of pots, and the occasional burst of laughter.
It was here, amidst the uproar of domestic life, that Lilac found a strange sense of belonging she hadn't expected.
Her tasks under Ashalt's orders were relentless, but the companionship of the other servants helped to soften the sharp edges of her days.
Even so, there was always an undercurrent of fear when his name was spoken, a shared nervousness that bound them all together.
Lilac sat with two maids, Cecilia and Martha, during the brief break between their morning chores and afternoon duties. They had taken their seats near a small, dusty window that let in just enough light to illuminate their weary faces.
"Let me warn you now," Martha said, her voice low as she peeled a potato with deft precision, "Lord Wellenberg is not a man to cross. His moods... well, let's just say they can turn like the wind."
Cecilia nodded, her hands busy mending a tear in a kitchen towel. "He's unpredictable, that's for sure. One minute, he'll act as though you don't exist, and the next, he's staring at you like you've done something wrong—even when you haven't."
Lilac hesitated, her fingers tightening around the mug of tea she was holding. "He's strict, yes, but... have you ever seen him do anything truly cruel?"
Martha and Cecilia exchanged glances.
"Not directly," Martha admitted. "But there are stories. Things that happened before you came." She leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper.
"They say he's cursed, you know. That his family's misfortunes aren't just bad luck."
Lilac frowned. "Cursed? What sort of curse?"
Cecilia shook her head. "No one knows for certain, but it has to do with the Wellenberg lineage. Something about betrayal... and blood."
The servants' warnings stayed with Lilac as she went about her duties, but it was the mention of blood that struck a nerve. Ever since her arrival, she'd had the gnawing feeling that Ashalt was hiding something from her.
He never spoke of his family or his past, and though he kept his distance, there was a peculiar intensity in his gaze whenever he looked at her—like he was searching for something only he could see.
Lilac's thoughts wandered back to the locked door she'd discovered days ago. She had tried to forget it, chalking it up to a quirk of the manor's many mysteries.
But now, the servants' cryptic warnings made her wonder: Could the locked door hold answers about the curse they whispered of?
That evening, Lilac found herself in the library, a huge room filled with rows upon rows of dusty books. She had been tasked with organizing a selection of books Ashalt had pulled from the shelves, though for what purpose, he hadn't said.
Her gaze drifted over the titles as she worked, the spines worn and faded. Most were volumes on history and law, but one caught her eye: 'The Legends of Wellenberg.'
Lilac hesitated before pulling the book from the shelf. It was heavier than she expected, its pages thick and yellowed with age. She flipped through it, her heart racing as she skimmed the text.
The Wellenberg family had been surrounded by mystery for generations, the book claimed, their legacy stained by tragedy and whispers of dark magic. One chapter detailed the so-called Wellenberg Curse, a legend tied to a betrayal that had fractured the family centuries ago.
Lilac's eyes narrowed as she read the final lines of the chapter:
"The curse is said to lie dormant, waiting to awaken in the presence of the rightful heir. Blood will call to blood, and the truth will come to light."
She slammed the book shut, her chest tightening. What did it mean? Could Ashalt believe in such things?
The next morning, Lilac's curiosity drove her back to the locked door. She waited until the servants were occupied with their tasks and Ashalt was nowhere to be seen before slipping into the corridor.
The door stood as it had before—silent, immovable, and marked with the strange carvings she couldn't decipher.
She ran her fingers over the symbols, their edges rough and worn. The air around the door felt colder than the rest of the manor, and as she stood there, she could swear she heard faint whispers, like the echo of voices just out of reach.
"Looking for something?"
Lilac spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. A young footman stood behind her, his expression cautious.
"I—I was just..." she stammered, stepping away from the door.
The footman glanced at it, his brow furrowing. "You shouldn't be here. That door's been locked for years."
"What's behind it?" Lilac asked, her voice steadying.
The footman hesitated, glancing over his shoulder before leaning closer. "That room used to belong to someone important—Ashalt's brother."
Lilac's breath caught. "His brother?"
The footman nodded. "They say the room was sealed after his death. No one's been inside since, not even the lord himself."
"Why?"
The footman's voice dropped to a whisper. "Because it's tied to the curse. They say strange things happen to anyone who goes near it. Servants have reported hearing voices, seeing shadows..." He trailed off, his face pale.
"You shouldn't get involved. It's not safe."
That night, as Lilac lay in her bed, her mind churned with questions.
The mention of Ashalt's brother only deepened the mystery. Why hadn't Ashalt ever spoken of him? And what did the curse have to do with her?
The portrait of Ashalt and his twin came to mind, its sorrowful aura etched into her memory. She couldn't shake the feeling that her presence in the manor was no coincidence—that she was somehow connected to the secrets it held.
As sleep finally claimed her, Lilac dreamed of the locked door. It loomed large in her mind, its carvings glowing faintly in the darkness.
She reached for it, her hand trembling, and as her fingers brushed the cold wood, the whispers grew louder, a chorus of voices calling her name.
And then, with a jolt, she woke, her heart racing and her palms damp with sweat.
Some doors, she realized, were meant to stay closed. But deep down, she knew she wouldn't be able to resist unlocking this one.