The clock chimed. Cecilia snapped her fingers again. Nothing happened.
The young woman let out a long sigh. She'd been trying all morning to master the spell, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get the candle to light itself. Closing the spell book in front of her, she struck a match, holding it to the candle's wick, which flickered to life instantly, dancing in the cold of air of the grand library. She watched it for a moment, before letting her gaze shift to the world outside her window.
Looking down from the top floor of her father's manor house, Cecilia could see out over most of the valley below. Directly beneath her sat the solemn grey stone bridge, connecting the house to the rest of the world by a thin dirt road, winding away through the foothills, up and out of site over the edge of the mountains in the distance, hedged in on either side by the dense foliage of the deciduous forests that dominated the land, still thick with the leaves of summer, despite the autumn winds now whistling through their branches.
In the distance, through the thin afternoon mists, she could just about make out the lights of little Lyncroft town, sitting serenely in the valley. She smiled to herself, imagining the common folk who lived there, going about their ordinary lives in the shadow of her family's estate.
She pictured them on their way to work, stopping to greet each other in the street, smiling and talking to each other as they went about their days. She imagined bakers baking, washerwoman taking baskets of laundry down to the river, shopkeepers selling their wares to eager villagers while children played around their feet. Old men sitting by fires telling stories of their youths. Just ordinary people.
Looking up to the sky, she could see the afternoon sun poking through the dark grey clouds, it's rays lighting up the mists below, giving the scene a picturesque, if slightly eerie, quality. It was going to rain soon. Cecilia smiled. She liked the rain.
Standing up from her chair, she took the spellbook from the table and carried it under her arm back to the book shelf. Sliding it carefully back into place, she made her way back to the table. On her way, she stopped, a familiar sight catching her eye, a small shelf tucked away behind her father's extensive anthologies. Nestled below '
World history
' and above
'Arcane Semantics
' sat a small collection of dark, leather bound books, each covering an aspect of Cecilia's true passion. Demonology.
Slipping between the tall oak bookshelves, the young woman made her way to the shelf, studying the cracked, ancient spines. The books around her were covered in dust, untouched for years, but these tomes looked almost as clean as the day they were bound.
Choosing a title, Cecilia reached out and slipped it free of the shelf. "
Tales of the Incubi
". One of her personal favourites. She felt a little shiver of excitement run through her as her fingers traced across the golden image embossed on the front cover; a tall, muscular man, reclining nude on a throne, with a woman on her knees between his legs.
Thumbing through the ancient, brown pages, she made her way back to the table, taking a moment to look back outside the window. Coming down the road towards the manor, barely visible through the mist, she could see a light. A carriage, it's lantern barely a speck on the horizon. Cecilia grimaced. No more reading for today.
A wave of irritation washed over the girl. Closing the book, she put it down on the table, blew out the candle, and left the library.
--------------------
One of the oldest noble families in the country of Durlacova, the Gildameres of Lyncroft had long overseen the county of Harsburgh from their family seat at Castle Bywater. The current Lord Gildamere, Alexander the Third, had been blessed many years prior with four children, the sisters Jessamina, Cassandra, Evelyne, and Cecilia.
Like their father, each had inherited an incredible aptitude for the arcane arts, an inherent skill passed down through generation after generation of the Gildamere bloodline. The family's affinity for magic was one of their defining traits, setting them aside from the common folk and other noble families alike. From birth each of the girls had shown a great talent for casting spells, which followed them into adulthood, and now each found herself commanding a considerable reputation in her respective field. No matter what they turned their hands too, the Gildamere sisters found fame and success wherever they went.
There was only one exception. The youngest daughter, Cecilia.
Unlike her sisters, Cecilia had never had much luck when it came to harnessing the wild forces of magic. Despite her constant efforts, and the efforts of her tutors, she'd never been able to conjure even the simplest of spells, and as she got older, one by one the people around her lost hope that she ever would. By the age of nineteen, the girl had yet to cast a single spell, let alone bend the forces of the arcane to her will in the way her sisters did. She was, in all respects, completely normal.
While no-one would ever say it, especially within earshot of the lord himself, it was no secret that Cecilia was her father's least favorite child. While her sisters were off making names for themselves across the country, she sat at home, reading books in her father's library while the world passed her by. Even now, as an attractive young woman, she rarely left the house, and he despaired at the thought of her growing old alone. Sitting in his armchair, the Lord shook his head. If only the girl had some motivation beyond reading her fairy tales.
--------------------
Descending the grand oak staircase in the main hall, Cecilia was just in time to see the double doors of the house swing open, the family butler standing to attention as a tall woman with dark hair and stern brown eyes stepped inside. Resting her right hand on the hilt of an ornate sabre, General Jessamina Gildamere glanced up at her sister from the ground floor, and gave her a curt smile.
The uniform she wore gleamed in the light of the grand chandelier, the polished buttons running up and down her gold-trimmed coat shining almost as bright as the multitude of medals pinned to her breast. Her hair, tied back and braided into a military bun, framed an austere face, with a sharp jaw and high cheekbones.
Making her way further into the house, the heels of her black leather riding boots clacking against the stone floor, Cecilia's eldest sister called up to her.
"Cecilia, my darling, how are you?"
Cecilia smiled a half smile, stopping part way down with one hand on the banister.
"You're early. The other's haven't arrived yet."
"I admire punctuality. It's a virtue. Is Father in his study?"
Cecilia shrugged. How should she know? Jessamina shot her a disapproving glare, and set off into the house to find Lord Gildamere. Closing the door, the butler followed after her.
With her sister gone, Cecilia finally finished her descent, crossing the stone floor towards the estate's gardens. If she had to spend the day with her family instead of reading, she'd at least make sure to get some fresh air first.
Stepping out into the chill Durlacoven air, Cecilia let out a long exhale of frustration. Her sisters didn't come home to visit very often, they were far too busy being important elsewhere to bother with the family estate, or her. But there was one day a year they could always be guaranteed to turn up. Their father's birthday.
Reaching down to hold up the hem of her long black gown, Cecilia set off down the stone path through the garden. As she made her way deeper in, she glanced around at the sculpted hedges all around her, their forms looming out of the mist like ruined arches. When she was younger, she and her sister had spent hours out in this garden, playing all sorts of games beneath the imposing green monoliths.
