OCTOBER 18TH, 1888.
THE MOON GLOWS IN ALL OF ITS GLORY as the bell strikes midnight but the only thought running through William Rochester was of survival, survival from the Witch Hunter's society and all their shenanigans. Swiftly walking across the blushing rose garden as he adjusted his black spectacles was when he saw his gateway to surviving this wretched place.
This towering stack of a mansion was of his name but never useful to anyone, at least not till that night. The east wing of it, long abandoned for a century since its rumours of harboring magic out of fear by all the workers, was ironically suitable for what he had to unfortunately stash away. The wing of course had to be not touched so as to keep the facade of being “normal” people as if being a witch was abnormal or inhumane. Hereditary magic was a gift put in the laps of all Rochesters and their kids to come but the dire state in Westminster with the uproar of The Society and general visceral hate from the public now forced William to throw it away until suitable to come out again.
As he carefully tiptoed to the wing making sure that no person saw him was when his heart grew heavier with sorrow, saying goodbye to a thing so treasured was upsetting to him but he knew better than to let his emotions get a hold of him in this situation. On reaching his destination he crossed the chain bounded iron gates with help from the rusted, old key gifted by his father and began his search for an appropriate place to dispose of all magic given to them which was now contained in a rose quartz crystal safely hidden in a long locket.
The urgency began to set in when he couldn’t find anywhere good enough, panicking he raced through it all, now desperate enough to do anything. A minute later he heard a loud thud. It was a painting of a flower case now sitting slightly dishevelled on the ground from where he had run into it. Tracing his steps back he landed exactly in front of a clear-cut hole in the wall where the picture was placed. It didn’t take a genius to understand that a key had to be placed in it to open whatever was laid on the other side of it.
So that’s exactly what he did. Inserting the key he currently had into the keyhole situated approximately to his shoulder length and to his amazement fit perfectly into it after a few sour tries, now revealing an abandoned room filled with broken furniture, chains, forgotten instruments and songs, which were beginning to catch cobwebs though being surprisingly bright for the location it was in. With caution he removed the locket and placed it inside one of the many boxes present in that room, magic from them would now be forgotten. Though he was strongly against it all, risking his family for magic was not righteous to him and with a final glance to the room exited it, leaving the locket to be found to the one worthy to continue it all.
Securing the portrait back to its place William continued to the hall room far away from enchantment, far away from the east wing, back to where normalcy occurred, but not before slyly giving away the key to his wife who awaited him at the stairs of the ballroom where people unbeknownst to what was happening were joyfully spending their time.
Now faith and future would be sealed together, waiting for this secret to finally be discovered.
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