in exploring an old abandoned manor, I fear more for your attire than I do mine.”
Janette’s cheeks went red. She was decked out in a long peach-colored day dress whose glossy hem peeked out from beneath a smooth tan overcoat. She quickly turned away from the group, migrating toward one of the large side doors.
They all filed through the cobwebbed hallway and deeper into the heart of the Alastor Place. The theater section of the building had been receiving the most treatment during renovations. The rest, to Kallia, remained mysterious, uncharted territory. The air smelled musty, thick as the pages of a well-worn antique book. She inhaled deeply as they walked down the dimly lit hallways, still teeming with debris and dust at the sides.
“For the ball, I want a very, very big space,” Janette declared, clapping her hands together with relish. Her giddiness echoed off the walls. “With a large floor for dancing, room for tables and refreshments—”
“Dear, why not have it at the Ranza Estate?” The mayor sighed, treading gingerly as if the ceiling might collapse any second. “Or in the Vierra District? The slight fixes we’ve made there over the years make it the perfect setting to—”
“No, Father.” Her stance mirrored the cadence of her voice: firm, decided. “I’m in charge of planning, and I want the Alastor Place. What point is there in renovating the show hall and not the rest? What a waste of potential space.”
“Are there even any viable rooms here for that?” Judge Bouquet turned his nose up at every dusty corner and cobweb.
“I’m afraid there are,” the mayor said in weary surrender. “The Alastors held their share of parties, it was told. Nobody’s braved these halls in a long, long time though, nor what’s left of the grand ballroom. They called it the Court of Mirrors.”
Janette let out an excited squeal, dragging Demarco with her to the front of the pack. He gave a gruff cough. “Mirrors?”
“The room was positively covered with them. Another show hall of sorts since this place is riddled with them, but not as large as the main theater, of course.” Mayor Eilin shrugged, glancing back with a snort. “Don’t worry, Demarco. There are worse things to fear than shattered mirrors.”
The party went silent. A silence so loud, Kallia had half a mind to leave while she still could. Mirrors were likely not the same beasts to Kallia as they were to Demarco, but she could understand his hesitation. She hated fearing something so fragile, so common.
Once they reached the grand double doors of the Court of Mirrors, it was too late to turn back. The sweeping details carved across the faded wood had dulled, the golden veneer charred along the edges like burnt toast. No doubt grand once upon a time, the doors now carried a rotted, decrepit beauty. Captivating. As though welcoming them to a ballroom of the underworld.
All too eagerly, Janette strode through. Her delighted shriek echoed immediately, and the rest filed inside curiously in stunned silence.
Kallia’s jaw went slack.
The Court of Mirrors went on like a stretch of frozen sea from one end to the other. She stood at the top of a double grand staircase, mirrored on the other side with another just like it. The space between was an arena designed to fit scores of people, dancers, and entertainers alike—overrun by overturned tables, islands amount of debris and broken glass abandoned from long ago. Ransacked, from the looks of it. The frames hung crooked along the walls empty of their portraits, or so scorched and blackened their images were beyond recognition.
Kallia’s eyes lingered upward at the paint-faded ceilings, where rows of broken chandeliers hung lopsided on weary chains. To imagine someone had left this whole building to ruin with age, and age with such loneliness. To think of the parties and balls, the life that must’ve graced these halls and lit these rooms, was to watch a candle flame die in one harsh breath. There was something tragically forgotten about it all, this place that yearned to be remembered, whispering behind walls of blackened, broken glass.
“My dear, you’re shaking.”
Kallia jerked when Erasmus came up next to her. She crossed her arms tightly. “I’m just … taking it all in.”
“A beaut, isn’t she?” His hand fluttered in a dramatic flourish. “If it can’t be loud and flashy, be beautiful and dramatic.”
“It’s absolutely perfect!” Janette trilled, sidestepping fallen furniture and pieces of broken statues like an eager explorer bent on covering every inch. Her