CHAPTER 54: THE CHAMBER AWAITS

Lunch was quiet, though every silence felt edged with scrutiny. Vincenzo was absent again, though he had already informed her of an urgent Conclave meeting before leaving just after breakfast.

Anneliese arrived early for the afternoon’s passive learning session. She wasn’t sure if it was because she had been late for morning training, or because of her urgency to learn, to understand, and to prepare for what lay ahead. Now, seated in the hidden library within the main one, she studied the parchment, revising yesterday’s teachings as she waited for Elowyn.

A few moments later, Elowyn entered, one hand carrying her ancestor’s handwritten work and the map. She wore a deep red long coat that whispered across the polished floor, layered over a dark green bodice that drew subtle attention to her figure.

Witchland’s fashion is different, Ann thought to herself. Too modern compared to the Sicilian Empire. Not just the attire—the way they move, talk, and think. That inbuilt confidence. It’s all so new. Refreshing, even admirable.

Elowyn caught her staring. Being raised as someone who missed nothing, she read the thoughts behind Anneliese’s expression. "Do not mistake appearance for power," she said dryly, though not unkindly. "In Witchland, we wear what allows us to move freely, to speak without chains. It is not fashion—it is philosophy."

Anneliese flushed, realizing she had been caught. But Elowyn only tilted her head and set the book and map carefully on the table, letting each item settle with deliberate care, as if the parchment itself demanded respect. She did not look at Anneliese immediately, letting the weight of the objects fill the quiet space between them.

Elowyn lowered herself into the chair across from Anneliese, her fingers hovering over the map, tracing the jagged lines with reverence. "This is no ordinary chart of lands," she said softly. "As we suspected, it responds to you. Only you, Anneliese, can awaken its meaning."

Anneliese leaned forward, her heart quickening. The parchment seemed to pulse faintly beneath her gaze, as though aware of her presence. A subtle warmth rose along her palms when she dared to touch it.

Beside the map lay the thick, hand-stitched book, pages curling slightly at the edges. Elowyn lifted it gently, placing it open in front of her. "Although I am not certain but I believe the Book of Spells and the map your father left behind are connected," Elowyn said, her tone thoughtful, as if testing the weight of her own words. She rested a hand on her ancestor’s book for emphasis. "And this First Tongue of Original Witches may hold the key to unlocking that connection. Let us begin with the map and this... step by step. We must search for symbols, patterns—anything that links the writings to the chart. Any clue that might help us decipher this extraordinary map."

Anneliese’s fingers hovered over a symbol, hesitant. The map warmed subtly at her touch, as if testing her, urging her forward.

Without wasting time, Anneliese spread the map wide across the table while Elowyn opened the ancient, hand-stitched book beside it. Together they worked—Anneliese pointing to seals, Elowyn scanning the rows of sigils—comparing glyph to glyph, page after page in relentless search for resemblance. Hours slipped away, dusk marked by the toll of a distant bell and the dimming light from the skylight above. But when they paused at last, there was nothing—no spark, no breakthrough, not even a sliver that could be called progress.

Anneliese drew a sharp breath and stared at the spread before them—map on one side, book on the other—feeling the evening press at the edges of the room in quiet disappointment.

Elowyn’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but her voice remained firm. "We do not have the luxury of time, yet patience is still required. Do not lose hope so soon. Tomorrow, we will begin again—with sharper focus and greater clarity of will. This is only the beginning. Remember that." She allowed the silence to linger, letting her words settle in Anneliese until they reached the point of understanding.

Anneliese exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. The air seemed alive, thrumming softly with the promise of knowledge and power. She realized, with a thrill she could barely contain, that this was only the first step. And she would not falter.

——

After dinner, Elowyn retired to her chambers. The firelight danced across the walls as she moved with quiet precision, shedding the day’s layers for simple night garments. The warm scent of iron and cedar lingered in the air, mingling with the residual hum of magic that clung to the corners of the room.

She had just finished her shower, letting the steam cling to her skin and loosen the day’s residue, when a quiet knock sounded at her door.

"Enter," she called, her voice smooth yet carrying the authority that never left her, even in her private quarters.

Lucas stepped inside, bowing slightly. "My lady, you have been requested by My Lord. He wishes you to come to the work chamber immediately."

Elowyn’s brow furrowed, a flicker of curiosity sharpening her expression. "Very well," she said, her tone calm but edged with focus. "If it is urgent, I should not keep him waiting."

Elowyn draped a long black shrug over her sleeveless black silk night dress, the fabric brushing softly against her skin. She moved with measured steps as she left her chambers, the corridor’s torches flickering against the stone walls. Shadows stretched long, shifting with her passage, as if trying to retreat and hide from her path.

Lucas fell into step beside her, silent and efficient, guiding her through the winding halls of the estate. The work chamber door came into view—a heavy, carved structure of dark wood, etched with intricate patterns. Lucas paused, his hand hovering briefly over the handle before he pushed it open, revealing the chamber beyond.

Elowyn inhaled deliberately, letting the calm authority she carried like armor settle over her. Her mind read the tension of the chamber, ready to meet it with precision and control. With each measured step, her focus sharpened, eyes sweeping the room, every instinct alert at the sight ahead.