Chapter 289 - What you find in the mirror
Scarlett’s gaze swept across the courtyard. Unlike the parlour, this place was unmistakable, no matter what year it was. It looked almost exactly as it had before the Cabal’s attack and the ashenwraith dragon’s appearance. At its heart stood a fountain, surrounded by four meticulously manicured grass mounds separated by stone pathways. Along the mansion walls, vibrant flowerbeds added a touch of extra colour to the sight.
She turned slowly, scanning for any sign of life, but the courtyard remained deserted. Neither Arlene nor her siblings were anywhere to be seen. Was this a new scene or memory, then? Why had it changed so abruptly?
Her eyes dropped to the ring on her finger. Its earlier glow had faded, leaving the garnet at its center inert.
…That was the same reaction her [Crown of Flame’s Benediction] had exhibited before it thrust her into these memories, wasn’t it? What did it mean that the ring had triggered it this time?
As her attention roamed the courtyard, an inexplicable wistfulness settled over her. At last, her focus came to rest on the mansion’s entrance. Were Arlene and her siblings waiting inside? If so, how old would they be this time? And, more importantly, what was she even doing here?
A flicker of movement caught her eye — a flash of white through one of the windows, there and gone in an instant. She narrowed her eyes, focusing on the spot. Seconds stretched on as she waited, but nothing more revealed itself.
Finally, she exhaled softly and crossed the courtyard, her footsteps echoing softly on the stone path. As she climbed the steps to the entrance and pushed the door open, a startled yelp came from her right.
A young servant girl, busy polishing a delicate porcelain vase, stumbled backward in surprise and landed ungracefully on the floor. Flushing with embarrassment, she scrambled to her feet but froze when her eyes landed on Scarlett.
Scarlett frowned slightly, waiting as the girl stood motionless.
Seeming to realise her lapse in decorum, the servant smoothed her clothes and dipped into a hasty curtsy. “I’m terribly sorry, miss,” she stammered, cheeks reddening further. “Please forgive my clumsiness. Welcome. Is there something I can help you with?”
Scarlett studied the unfamiliar girl in silence. From that reaction, it seemed Scarlett was being treated as a guest. Was this another example of how this memory integrated her into its narrative, like how Vice-dean Fletcher assumed she belonged to the Elystead Tower?
Shifting her gaze from the flustered servant, Scarlett examined the foyer. The similarities to her own time were striking, even if there were subtle differences in the decor. It felt like a slightly warped reflection of her home — like revisiting an old apartment after a new owner had moved in.