Reflection & Celebration Introductions

The front courtyard of the Vosswell Estate was bustling with activity. Servants hurried about, making last-minute adjustments to the carriages as they prepared for the departure to the Faremont Celebration. The sound of horses stamping their hooves and the faint murmur of conversation filled the air.

Delphia stood at the edge of the grand outdoor staircase, her eyes scanning the scene before her, tightening her fur shawl around her. The month passed by quite fast without realizing, she thought to herself. They were nearing the end of December and the winter season had begun in earnest, with all of the trees leafless and flower gardens bare. The ground settling into its usual hibernation as frost was starting to tinge the ground white.

The Duke and Duchess were already settling into their own carriage, their conversation low and filled with the usual curt exchanges. Do they even like each other, Delphia wondered.

Seraphina and Lucian were deep in discussion as they headed toward the second carriage, deciding to ride together. No doubt talking about Delphia's recent changes, she thought. Noting how her step-siblings behavior towards her have changed slightly after the Vosswell tea party held. Even Duchess Larissa looked at her differently in their interactions.

There was a time when 'Delphia' would have been irritated by their decision to exclude her, but now, as she watched them from a distance, she felt nothing but relief. It's better this way, she thought, her gaze steady. The last thing she needed was the forced company of her stepfamily.

As the final carriage pulled up, the footman stepped forward to open the door for her. Delphia glanced at the empty interior, a quiet sanctuary from the constant hum of Noble life. She took a breath, then gracefully stepped into the carriage, allowing the footman to close the door behind her. The warmth quickly filled the small space thanks to the arrays engraved into the wood, so she loosened her shawl around her to let her arms breathe.

Being from a family that was tied closely to the Magic Tower, the Vosswells had plenty of small magical artifacts and enhancements around the Manor. So much so, that she easily adapted to life around the house, and even thought of new smaller ways to improve the gadgets already shown to her.

The carriage jolted to life moments later, and she settled into the plush seat, the gentle sway of the ride calming her. The rhythmic sound of the wheels turning beneath her filled the space, and for the first time that morning, Delphia allowed herself a moment of solitude. In fact, she preferred it. It gave her time to think—to reflect on everything that had happened in the past month. The person she had been, the life she had left behind, felt distant now, like a waning memory she couldn't quite grasp.

She had accepted her new reality, had embraced the name Delphia as her own, and now she was navigating a life that was far more complex than she had ever anticipated.

In her previous life, Dyana had kept the world at arm's length—never too close, never too involved. She had learned early on that attachment led to betrayal, that trust was a luxury she couldn't afford. The people she had once relied on—friends, mentors, even family—had disappointed her in ways too sharp to forget. A whispered promise broken. A desperate plea ignored. A hand she reached for, only to grasp at empty air.

So, she had adapted.

She became an observer rather than a participant, calculating and distant, weaving through life as if she were a ghost in her own story. Caring, after all, only made the inevitable loss hurt more. And she couldn't afford to hurt. Not then. Not now. Survival demanded distance, and distance had always kept her safe.

And yet, this world was different. Delphia was different. The journal she had found, the quiet grief and loneliness she had felt lingering from the locket—those emotions had stirred something in her. Delphia, the woman she now inhabited, hadn't been the villainess that The Rose of Avalon had painted her to be.

She had been lost, weighed down by expectations and the crushing responsibilities that came with her family's legacy.

Perhaps Delphia had wanted to be different too, she thought, gazing out the window as the trees and fields blurred past at a fast rate. Maybe, deep down, the original Delphia had yearned for something more than the shallow life she had been forced to lead. But that was the past Delphia. And now, it was her turn to change that story.

The familiar swirl of anxiety tugged at the edges of her thoughts as she considered the event ahead. The Faremont Celebration would bring her face to face with the key figures of the story—Alaric, Calista, and Zypher.

The thought of Alaric and Calista brought little more than irritation. She hadn't cared for them in the novel, and she cared even less for them now. Alaric, with his arrogance and angsty attitude, had never impressed her. And Calista's over-the-top reactions and melodrama had grated on her. No, she wasn't here for them.

Zypher, though… Zypher was different.

In the novel, he had been the only character she had truly enjoyed. His cold, calculating demeanor had fascinated her because it seemed that he understood very well how to use his 'charm' against others to get what he wanted, and even though he had been a villain, he had never indulged in the melodrama that surrounded him. He had been ruthless, pragmatic, and unrelenting—a far cry from the petulant romance that had dominated the rest of the book. He seemed almost out of place within the novel.

Now, she would get to see him in person. The idea both intrigued and unsettled her. She needed to be careful, though. Zypher wasn't just a character anymore. He was real, and interacting with him could be far more dangerous than she realized. But that was the trick to surviving in this world, wasn't it? She thought with a roll of her eyes, watching the trees blur past her.

She needed to remain detached and emotionally distant, just as she always had. As long as she didn't get involved in the romantic entanglements and political drama of the main story, she could avoid the same fate that had befallen the original Delphia.

Stay indifferent. Stay detached.

That was the plan.

The carriage ride felt both long and short, her thoughts keeping her occupied as the teleportation array helped speed them toward their destination. Soon enough, the grand estate of Duke Faremont came into view, its sprawling grounds and stately architecture rising like a beacon in the distance.

The carriage slowed to a halt at the front entrance, and Delphia could see the other carriages already parked along the drive. The Duke and Duchess of Vosswell were stepping out of their carriage, their expressions as composed as ever. Lucian and Seraphina emerged from their own carriage, already whispering to one another about the guests they expected to see.

Delphia's carriage door opened, bringing in the chill of the air. She wrapped the shawl around her once more and she stepped out, gracefully taking the hand awaiting her, her eyes sweeping over the grand Estate. The air was thick with anticipation, a palpable sense of excitement running through the arriving guests as they gathered in their finest attire, ready to greet one another.

She adjusted her emerald gown and fur shawl, smoothing out any creases before joining her family at the base of the grand outdoor staircase. The five of them made a striking picture, each attractive in their own way; The Vosswell family standing united, though Delphia felt no particular ties to the people at her side.

As they walked toward the entrance together, their footsteps synchronized on the stone path, Delphia kept her expression calm and unreadable. She knew what was coming. The story was about to unfold, but this time, she wasn't just a puppet fulfilling a role for someone else. She was breaking the damn puppeteer's hands—she was not going to play the person she read about at all.

The grand ballroom of Duke Faremont's Manor was an opulent display of wealth and power. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a soft glow over the polished marble floors, while gilded mirrors and rich tapestries adorned the walls. The scent of fresh flowers filled the air, and the gentle hum of conversation rippled through the gathered Nobles, their elegant attire shimmering beneath the lights.

Delphia walked alongside her family as they entered the ballroom, her steps measured and deliberate. The deep emerald green fabric of her gown swayed gently as she moved, the gold embroidery along the edges and patterns across her waist, catching the light with every step, making her pinned rose gold hair stand out even more. With the added adjustments she made to the dress, her décolletage was not the first thing noticed when she wore it—unlike when she first tried it on.

Her arrival with the Vosswell family did not go unnoticed. The whispering began almost immediately, subtle but palpable.She could feel the eyes of the Nobles on her, their curiosity piqued by her recent quiet behavior. Word had spread, it seemed—about her 'bad luck,' about the accident, and about her uncharacteristic absence from the social scene this last month.

She kept her expression calm, betraying none of the unease she felt at being the center of attention. Her goal tonight was simple: survive this event with her reputation intact and avoid any unnecessary entanglements with Calista and the Crown Prince.

As they made their way further into the ballroom, her eyes swept across the place, taking in the familiar faces of the kingdom's elite. The other noble families were already present, their conversations flowing with the ease of those who had long navigated the complexities of high society. But one figure in particular drew her attention.

Calista Faremont.

Standing by the side of Duke Faremont, Calista looked every bit the picture of nobility. She wore a gown of soft ivory, the fabric adorned with delicate embroidery in the colors of her house—gold and green, all throughout the dress. Her long sky blue hair was pinned back elegantly, her features framed by gentle curls that fell down her back. She had green eyes, that when gazed at, resembled a vibrant meadow on a gentle spring day.

There was an undeniable air of grace about her, and yet, Delphia found herself narrowing her eyes, watching her carefully.

This was the first time Delphia had seen Calista in person, and it was a strange experience. In the novel, Calista had been described as the 'innocent, virtuous heroine'—radiant and full of purity. But the woman standing before her now didn't seem as simple as the book had portrayed her. There was something guarded in her posture, something strategic in the way her eyes scanned the room, as if she were assessing her surroundings.

So much for the sweet and naïve heroine, Delphia thought, her lips curving slightly in amusement.

As she and her family took their places after giving their greetings to the Faremonts in general, the celebration officially began. She did note that the 'fake daughter' was nowhere to be seen.

Duke Faremont, standing tall beside his newly reclaimed daughter, raised a hand to quiet the room. The conversations died down instantly, and all eyes turned toward the center of the ballroom, where Calista was about to be introduced to the nobility.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Duke Faremont began, his voice resonating through the hall with authority, "it is with great pride that I present to you my daughter, the true heiress of House Faremont, Calista Faremont." Her two brothers and mother were standing off to the side, giving way to Calista.

There was a collective murmur of approval and curiosity from the crowd as Calista stepped forward, her expression composed but demure. A soft smile graced her lips as she curtsied before the assembly, and the nobles applauded politely.

But then came the demonstration.

It had been anticipated, of course. A show of magic was customary for any noble's debut, especially for one of Calista's stature—Delphia had her own on her eighteenth birthday two years ago. As the daughter of Duke Faremont, whose family was renowned for their earth magic, it was expected that Calista would prove her worth by showcasing her powers.

With a graceful flick of her wrist, Calista's magic flared to life, showcasing three bright circles interlocking with each other. The ground beneath the ballroom trembled slightly, and in a display of control and elegance, vines began to rise from the potted plants around the room, weaving themselves into intricate patterns that spiraled upward into the air. Flowers bloomed along the vines—blue roses that shimmered with a faint magical glow, each petal perfectly formed.

The room erupted into applause, the nobles murmuring their approval as Calista stood at the center of it all, her magic a testament to her lineage. Delphia, however, remained still, her eyes fixed on Calista's face. There was no doubt that her power was impressive, but it wasn't the magic that held Delphia's attention—it was the way Calista's eyes flickered ever so briefly with calculation.

As if she knew exactly what she was doing. As if this performance was as much about solidifying her position among the nobility as it was about displaying her magic.

So much for the 'purity' she had, Delphia thought again, her suspicions deepening as she clapped her hands along with everyone else. Calista was more than what the novel had portrayed her to be. She wasn't the simpleminded girl who stumbled her way through life. She was strategic. Careful.

And that was the first red flag for Delphia.