Dinner Under Watchful Eyes

The dining room was far grander than Velora expected.

A long mahogany table stretched beneath a chandelier heavy with crystal, each piece catching the candlelight and scattering it in fractured glimmers across the walls. Tall windows stood draped in dark velvet, sealing the room away from the night outside.

Only one place was set.

Velora slowed as she entered.

“You weren’t exaggerating about the size of this place,” she said, her voice smaller than intended.

Aldric pulled out the chair at the head of the table.

“Ravenscar was built to entertain,” he replied. “Though it rarely does anymore.”

She sat, the sound of the chair legs scraping softly against the polished floor echoing farther than it should have.

“And you live here alone?” she asked carefully.

“I reside on the premises to maintain order,” he answered.

“The estate requires consistency.”

“That’s… vague.”

Aldric allowed the faintest curve of a smile. “You will find that Ravenscar does not respond well to excessive questioning.”

Velora leaned back slightly.

“Is that supposed to reassure me?”

Dinner was simple soup, bread, something warm enough to soften the chill clinging to her skin. Aldric served each course with quiet efficiency, his movements precise, almost rehearsed.

But it wasn’t the food that unsettled her.

It was the walls.

Between the velvet curtains hung enormous portraits far larger than the ones in the hallway. Generations of unfamiliar faces stared down at her, their expressions stern, unyielding.

One portrait in particular caught her attention.

A young woman stood beside the grand staircase, painted in striking detail. Her posture was stiff, her eyes intense almost pleading.

Velora frowned.

“She looks… familiar.”

Aldric followed her gaze.

“That is Eleanor Ravenscar" She was the last recorded owner of the estate.”

“What happened to her?”

A pause.

“She disappeared.”

The word lingered in the air like smoke.

Velora let out a soft, uneasy laugh.

"That’s not exactly comforting.”

“History rarely is.”

She looked back at the portrait. The artist had captured the woman’s features so vividly that it almost felt like she might step down from the canvas at any moment.

And then Velora noticed something that made her breath hitch.

The background behind Eleanor in the painting the staircase, the railing, the curve of the hall

It matched the corridor Velora had walked through earlier.

The one that wasn’t on the map.

Her pulse quickened.

“That hallway,” she said slowly, “it still exists, doesn’t it?”

Aldric’s gaze sharpened slightly.

“You were advised not to explore beyond your assigned areas.”

“So it does exist.”

He did not answer.

A faint sound echoed from somewhere above the dining room ceiling. Not loud. Not violent.

Just a single, deliberate footstep.