"Falling, sinking deeper and deeper into the uncharted abyss..." Year: 2021 A back-dated PV with: @Rosaline Everhart

“Love came in many forms.”

At least, that was what novels and playbooks taught Erast. Love permeated all man-made literature. Between the lines of riveting narrative and compelling character arcs, varying flavours of love would bleed into the words, weaving intricate networks and harmonies between characters that sung in different tunes.

According to those books, there were subsets of love.

Romantic love: The heart of all compelling tales of passion. His very existence was a testament to the strength of its existence. Even in the cushioned cage that is his family estate, Erast knew the concept as if it were the palm of his hand. Romantic love was infinite, rich passion in a bottomless well that showers upon and wraps around its subject like a sun-warmed blanket. That was the love that his parents shared. It was the syrup-sweet adoration, soft as melted butter, in their eyes when they met across the dining room. It was the worshipfully gentle cradle of one another when they embraced in the privacy of their family’s sitting room. That was romantic love, and the love that made his sisters. The love that made… him.

Erast had thought that to be the most important type of love, the love that really gave people their happily ever after. That is, until the Wrenfords came to visit.

Cilian Wrenford was a peculiar man. Even when muffled by brick and stone, the man’s voice carried with a robust confidence that Erast had never quite witnessed before. That man, filled with a burning dedication to the study of charms, was his father’s friend, and that man made his father smile.

It was not the soft, passionate smile that Erast’s father would direct towards his mother. This expression was bright, paired with eyes sharp as a whip and lit with a mirth that was younger, raw and unfiltered. It was the smile of someone free.

Platonic love. Friendship. It was what made his sisters pout and whine when they were denied a play date with their peers, and it was what made his father look the most comfortable the boy has ever seen him. Peeking at that smile through the servants’ door at the happy reunion between friends, Erast wondered if he could ever smile like that too.

Just as the boy turned to walk back to his room and eat dinner with yet another novel that he dug up from the estate library, a glint on the coffee table caught his eye. Erast narrowed his eyes curiously at the object, discovering that it was a gilded book spine that caught his eye. None of their gilded books left the estate library. His sisters would never enter here, and no adult would leave their book lying around like this.

In a blink, a potential owner of the book rose in his mind’s eye: Rosaline Everhart. She was the child who accompanied Cilian Wrenford. His niece, Governess Zhang had said. She was his age, a young half-blood witch from a good background.

Quietly entering into the guest sitting room, Erast stared at the book, swaying from side to side where he stood. His governess said that the guests were leaving the next morning. Surely, this book will be missed if left behind. It seemed well-loved despite the creases on its spine. Gilded books were rather expensive too…

Picking it up gingerly, the brunet slipped back into the servant's corridor. The sensible voice in him told him to leave it to Governess Zhang. His only job was to stay hidden, eat the dinner that was in his bedroom, and do his school work.

The thought of that stack of work on his desk steeled his resolve. He turned tail, and started walking. Not in the direction of his bedroom, but the guest wing.

The plan was simple: Walk up to the guest quarters, place the book at the door, and go back to his bedroom. It was currently meal time in the main building, so nobody would see him. It was fool proof! Determined, the young brunet made his way through the hallways, each step taken as if with the weight of a feather. Each step lit something in him. Excitement? A fool's bravery? Erast couldn't quite tell, but it didn't matter. Nobody would even know of his plan. He beamed, the thrill of a secret mission filling his chest.

If only the boy knew....