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It feels like an enchanting forest with how the stoned tiles beneath our feet shimmer with magic with every step we take. The fireflies dance around us, the tiny illumination from their bodies furthering the mesmerizing illusion as we keep walking forward.
The path isn’t very big. It’s wide enough to fit four people max in a row, which may be why we’re walking in a single file, for walking even in twos may put us too close to the alluring roses, which are so perfectly blossomed in their bushes.
To be honest, I’m drawn to the ivory green leaves that decorate the roses like an accessory more than a living piece of the roses’ creation. The color reminds me of the ends of my hair that replicate the unique green shade.
It also reminds me of how my eyes are an enriched shade of ivory green with flickers of emerald and gold. That unique shade is from my mother, but I also inherited the rare traits of my father.
Eyes that look no different from a Viper, only instead of vivid lime green,his are as red as freshly flowing blood.
A sight even I’ve rarely witnessed with my own eyes.
The aroma surrounding us is extra dreamy. Odd way of describing a smell that ignites a sense of mental freedom, but that’s the sensation it kindles with every inhale. It makes it difficult to keep walking forward, but I ignore the nagging pull because I can’t afford to be distracted.
There’s no way I can bring shame to the Guinevere Legacy by falling for such a simple trap… especially when I’ve already earned my right to be an N.M.U. Attendee.
We’ve walked for what has to be five minutes. I’ve been trying to keep track despite the list of distractions. Despite the sight of the end far ahead, it feels as though it’s still quite the walk to get there.
We need to be more observant, or we’ll end up in a cycle.
Dark magic is one of the roots of N.M.U.
It’s the legal institute that allows those with even a pinch of dark magic to have a chance to not only dive into its powerful clutches but to expand it until you’re a respectable individual who can be of service to those far from the realms of mundane.
Fae. Demons. Monsters.
The creatures you read in stories and fairytales you thought were but fable. Mysteries and made-up folklore that either left you giggling in happiness at its ending or dreading the moment you close your eyes out of fear of being eaten.
My parents didn’t raise us to think they weren’t real. We were thrown into it straight away, which may be why my sister came to despise this world where the mundane is all but precious when they carry hidden gifts and treasures that can be expanded on.
Or, in ‘common’ instances, stolen.
Needless to say, those who wish to ignore the truth hidden in the shadows live a life of blissful ignorance.
Sadly, I can’t be one of them.
“Miss Guinevere?” I don’t need to turn my head to know who that whimsical voice belongs to.
“Yes, Blair?” I’m not normally social, but I like the calm musical sound of her voice.
“Can you predict how far we are from the door?”
“I’m not sure you’ll like my answer.”
“We’re stuck, aren’t we?” Azrael chips in. “Alaric, look forward.”
“I’m looking forward.”
“You’re looking at the roses,” Azrael grumbles. “Stare at Miss Guinevere’s hair.”
“Why would I want to stare at her hair? It’s ugly.”
“How is her hair ugly when it’s the exact shade of those ivory leaves and the shadows that decorate them?” Azrael argues.
“It’s just different, alright. Back of the head of Miss Prodigy doesn’t make me feel like I’ll enjoy an eternity of happiness.”
“Good,” I note and decide we need to stop.
This endless walking will lead to our doom.
