chapter 8: Isabella never to be seen again

Crossing through the border felt almost surreal, as if we were soaring through the clouds, untethered and free. There was an exhilarating sense of liberation—no one to command us, no one to dictate our every move. It was a rare moment of peace, a chance to reflect on my life as we made our way through the border.

Soon, we arrived at what could only be described as a grand estate—an imposing mansion, or perhaps more fittingly, a castle. Its elegance was undeniable.

"Gift!! Come here," my mother called out, her voice warm and familiar.

"Mom! Where are you?" I called, scanning my surroundings in confusion.

"The fifth room on your left," came her reassuring reply.

"Okay." I moved in the direction she indicated, my curiosity piqued.

"Hey, sweetie, come here," Elena beckoned, her voice gentle.

"Mom!" I exclaimed, rushing into her embrace.

"Sweetheart, this is your room." She gestured around the spacious, beautifully furnished room. But before I could respond, she stood and walked toward me with a look of tenderness.

"Yes, Mom?" I asked, feeling a flutter of anticipation.

"Thank you for calling me 'Mom,'" she said softly, planting a kiss on my hair.

"It's nothing," I murmured, wrapping my arms around her in return. It was just the way things were now.

"Mom, can I explore the house?" I asked, eager to take in every corner of this new place.

"Of course, sweetheart," she smiled, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

As I wandered down the hallway, each step felt like a journey deeper into this new world—a world I hadn't fully begun to comprehend but was already drawn to. The walls, adorned with portraits of faces I did not recognize, whispered stories from a time long past. The air smelled faintly of aged wood and incense, a mix of old lives and new beginnings. I traced the intricate designs on the golden-framed mirrors, the patterns catching the light in delicate reflections, as though the house itself was alive, watching me, waiting.

I passed doors to rooms I could only imagine—rooms of mystery and wonder, each one an unknown chapter. The silence around me was thick, almost tangible, as if the very essence of the house was holding its breath, waiting for me to unlock its secrets. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming. I had come from a life where space had been a luxury, and now here I stood in this mansion, where even the smallest room was vast enough to feel like a palace.

Yet, despite the beauty that surrounded me, there was a gnawing sense of loneliness, a quiet ache that lingered just beneath the surface. I was surrounded by luxury, but it felt like I was still reaching for something I couldn't quite grasp. The echoes of my footsteps seemed to mock me, as if the house itself was reminding me of the emptiness I'd left behind, the world I had once known and now found distant, almost forgotten.

I rounded a corner, my thoughts swirling, when I came across a large, open library. The scent of leather-bound books and polished wood filled the air. The shelves stretched up high, disappearing into the shadowed upper reaches of the room. Books, thousands of them—each one a world in itself. I ran my fingers along the spines, feeling a strange connection to the knowledge within them, but also an unsettling sense of being an outsider. These books were written for people who had lived here long before I arrived, people whose names I didn't know, whose lives had shaped this house into what it was now.

And then I heard it—soft footsteps approaching from behind. I turned, heart thumping in my chest, expecting to see Elena or my mother, but instead, it was someone I hadn't met yet.

A woman stood in the doorway of the library, her figure framed by the soft glow of the hallway light. She was tall, with dark, flowing hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall of midnight. Her features were striking—sharp yet delicate, and there was an air of quiet authority about her. She looked at me with eyes that were both curious and knowing, as if she had seen a thousand like me before.

"You must be Gift," she said, her voice smooth, almost hypnotic.

"Yes," I said, unsure whether I should introduce myself further or simply wait for her to speak again. Her presence commanded attention, and something told me she was someone not to be underestimated.

"I'm Isabella," she continued, stepping into the room with a grace that made the very air around her seem to shift. "I'm the keeper of this place… for now."

"Keeper?" The word struck me with an unexpected weight, and I found myself trying to make sense of it. What did she mean by that? Was this her house, or was she merely a guest like me? The uncertainty gnawed at me.

"Yes," Isabella said, as if reading my thoughts. "I maintain the estate, the history, the legacy that has been passed down through generations. It is... my duty." Her eyes met mine again, and I felt a strange pull, a kind of magnetic connection. "But the estate is changing now, as you are. The past is no longer enough to define what happens next. We are at a crossroads, and you, Gift, may play a role in that."

Her words hung in the air, both a question and a prophecy, though I didn't fully understand what she meant. I couldn't tell if she was being cryptic on purpose or if she was merely stating an undeniable truth.

"What does that mean?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly, unsure whether to push further. I had always been a curious person, but curiosity in a place like this felt dangerous, like stepping into a storm without a map.

"You will find out in time," she replied with a knowing smile, her expression unreadable. "The house has a way of revealing things when it's ready. But for now… explore. Learn. Understand the rhythm of this place, and the story will begin to unfold."

Her gaze softened, and she took a small step closer. "If you ever need guidance… or a listening ear, I am here."

Before I could say anything else, Isabella turned and walked toward the door, her figure disappearing into the shadows of the hallway.

I stood there, alone in the library, the weight of her words pressing heavily on my chest. A crossroads? A story unfolding? I couldn't help but feel like I had just been given a riddle with no answer. What was this place? Who were these people? And why did it feel like there was something much bigger at play here, something that involved not just the house, but my own fate as well?

A sudden impulse seized me. I wanted to find my mother, to tell her about the encounter, but something told me to wait. To stay just a little longer, let the house reveal itself to me on its own terms.

I turned back to the shelves of books, the faint murmur of the house's quiet hum in my ears. Perhaps it was time to begin learning—about the estate, about its secrets, and, most of all, about myself.