𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖔𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 pv group

Whispers of a cursed relic were spreading throughout the castle like wildfire. Such an absurd yet bone-chilling claim would deter anyone with a sense of self-preservation; an attribute that Cecilia Merrick was not lacking. And yet, there she was, indulging the rumours as each twisted version found its way to her ears. Whilst the implausible tales were immediately met with a skeptical eyebrow raise, there were a few that gave her pause. Surely they could not be true, yet she something in the back of her mind made her hesitate.

Her uncle always cautioned her against toying with curses. At first, his words simply sounded like they were part of the bedtime stories fabricated for her entertainment. However, as the subject arose more frequently, there were shifts in his disposition that were increasingly difficult to ignore. His voice grew shaky, his eyes vacant and his gaze so distant that he almost seemed to drift into another world. Indeed, Cecilia knew that curses were never to be trifled with.

Nevertheless, the newly appointed prefect was intrigued by its obscure origins. She wondered whether the bottle’s current owner possessed some knowledge that others were not privy to. Attending such a gathering did not seem appropriate for someone in her position, but there was only one way to find the answers to her questions. In the end, morbid curiosity compelled Cecilia to probe into its authenticity. Although her decision would pose some risks, she took comfort in knowing that no object capable of great harm would ever make it past the castle borders. If anything, it would be more irresponsible to allow the rumours of the cursed bottle to spread further. At least, that was what she told herself. It was certainly not an excuse she concocted in case things took a turn for the worse.

Evening shadows crept over the castle as bustling crowds filtered out, leaving only the night owls lurking and filling the courtyard with an ominous ambience. Cecilia’s astute gaze fixed on the quiet corner dimly lit by flickering flames enclosed in iron. Several girls were gathered in a circle; surrounding some sort of opaque object that she could only assume to be the cursed bottle. The clack of her heels echoed as she strode across the cobblestone. Auburn curls bounced with each step until she came to a halt in front of the velvet carpet.

“Good evening,” Cecilia greeted them as she lowered herself onto one of the cushions. Her lips curled into a soft smile as her seafoam eyes flicked from one face to another. Most were unfamiliar faces, save for the girl she had seen at the field day event. Though Cecilia did not know her name, she recalled being rather impressed by her efforts that day. Still, she did not rush to introduce herself, for there would be plenty of time to become well-acquainted through the allegedly cursed bottle. After giving the girl a quick nod of acknowledgement, her steely eyes stared down at the glass.

Merlin’s beard, Cecilia thought, hitching her breath as she drew back slightly. Seeing the rumoured relic lay only an arm’s length away on an aged rug was slightly more unnerving than she expected. There was something inexplicably eerie about the way the glass caught the light. Perhaps it was purely atmospheric, but she did not want to be the one who figured out that. Cold fingers curled into a fist as she tore her eyes away from it.

“These cushions are much softer than I expected,” she remarked with a half-grin, attempting to lighten the mood as she glanced at Crystal. Cecilia recalled exchanging glances with her in the corridors whilst she plastered posters on the wall. There were several burning questions she had for the girl, but held them back for now. All would be revealed in due time. As for her own secrets, Cecilia had little to hide, and therefore nothing to fear. This would simply be some harmless fun to look back on and laugh about. Right?