Clara_Winslet

~"She Was Quite and He Was Lost"~
Lady Elara was always quiet — not because she lacked words, but because the world never deserved to hear the storms raging inside her. Behind her gentle steps and dawn-like gaze lies a mind sharper than any blade, and a soul burdened with secrets heavier than any tombstone.

Alaric Blackthorne, the Duke cloaked in shadows and whispered rumors, is a man forever lost within his own cursed halls. Behind his cold presence hides a fear no one dares to face… except for the quiet girl whose arrival shakes the foundation of his haunted manor.

Between moonlit corridors and ivy-choked halls, a dangerous connection blossoms. Torn between duty and desire, fate and freedom, Elara must decide: remain hidden within her silence… or rise to reclaim a strength she never knew she possessed.

Meanwhile, Alaric must confront the darkness imprisoning him — and choose whether he’s willing to lose everything for the girl who brought him back to life.

 A story of quiet strength, forbidden love, and the delicate line between salvation and ruin.

Will she find her voice before it's too late?
Will he break free from the labyrinth of his own shadows?
And when the final door opens… will they save each other, or destroy everything they’ve ever known?

You are The Only Light Among The Shadows

The hallway was quieter than usual. The kind of silence that doesn't soothe, but listens.

Elara had been walking without direction, her fingers grazing the cool, ancient stone as she turned corner after corner, each one emptier than the last. The air smelled faintly of wax and withered roses. A distant clock ticked — too slow to be real, too loud to be ignored.

She had not slept much the night before. And today, the mirrors seemed to hold her reflection a little too long.

There was a creak — not from her — but from the wood behind. Subtle. Intentional. Then:

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but you don't look entirely at ease."

A man stood beside one of the tall windows, half in shadow. His coat was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled slightly, hair tousled with a kind of elegant carelessness. The dying light kissed one side of his face, revealing eyes that held the brightness of someone who thought too quickly and too much — someone who perhaps never truly rested.

"I… was just walking," she said, her voice softer than usual. "I didn't mean to intrude."

"You're the Duchess," he smiled gently. "You can't really intrude in your own home."

There was a pause — not awkward, but aware.

"Aurelian. I work with His Grace."

She tilted her head. "You're his… advisor?"

"Something like that. I translate his silences."

Elara almost smiled, but didn't. There was something magnetic in his tone — a touch of mischief cloaked in formality.

"Are you lost?" he asked, his voice shifting — lower now, like he'd stepped just a little closer to her world.

"Not exactly. I was… thinking of asking to see the Duke."

"I asked the servants. They told me I couldn't go to his office without permission."

Aurelian sighed, mock-dramatically. "Yes, he does love his rules. Though I suspect he enjoys people attempting to break them even more."

There was a soft, distant tapping — a shutter somewhere reacting to the wind. Elara looked down.

"I just wanted to talk. This place… it feels strange. Like it's watching."

He didn't laugh. His voice turned thoughtful, almost grave.

"Some places do. And some mirrors reflect more than just your face."

Her eyes widened a little — not in fear, but recognition. But he offered no further explanation. Just silence, and a barely-there smile.

"Would you like me to take you to the office?" he asked.

"Then may I offer something simpler? Tea. In a room with no ghosts."

Elara hesitated. A sliver of tension unwound from her spine. Then she nodded.

Their footsteps echoed as they turned the corner — soft leather on cold stone, the hush of fabric moving against the still air.

But just before they disappeared into the corridor's curve, Elara looked back toward the dark hallway.

The mirror at the end still held her reflection.

A second longer than it should have.

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Chapter 06 – The Gentle Knock