Valerian Cross 9      

Evening had long since settled over the mansion, casting deep shadows against its gilded walls.

Evelyn lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, her mind empty yet restless. Sleep refused to claim her, but there was no lingering thought or anxiety keeping her awake.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Then, with a quiet sigh, she slipped out of bed and moved toward the door, making no sound as she stepped into the dimly lit corridor. Her feet carried her forward, guided by nothing but muscle memory and a pull from the past.

The mansion was still alive despite the late hour. Guards patrolled the halls. Lamps flickered against polished floors, casting eerie glows over the intricate architecture. Yet, in the secluded side of the estate where Evelyn walked, there was silence. A strange emptiness.

They feared this part of the mansion.

Perhaps because it was hers—a witch's domain.