Scene Two: Final Will and Testament
1159 Words
I push open the front door of my apartment and step inside.
The familiar silence greets me, but tonight it feels different. Heavier. Colder. As though the walls themselves know something has changed.
I close the door behind me and lean against it for a moment, staring into the tiny apartment that had always felt like the beginning of my future.
Stacks of accounting textbooks still cover my coffee table, their pages marked with colorful tabs and handwritten notes from late nights fueled by coffee and determination. My laptop sits open exactly where I left it before the funeral, frozen on an unfinished internship essay.
Across the room, half-packed moving boxes wait patiently beside the bedroom door.
My future.
The apartment I was supposed to leave in two weeks.
The internship in the city that I'd worked four years to earn.
Everything was exactly as I'd left it.
Yet somehow...
Nothing felt the same.
My fingers tighten around the oversized envelope tucked beneath my arm.
Cream-colored.
Thick.
Far too heavy to contain only a letter.
I carry it to the couch and sink into the cushions with a long, weary breath that seems to leave every ounce of strength with it.
The envelope rests in my lap.
Its deep crimson wax seal bears a crest I don't recognize.
A raven standing beneath a crescent moon.
The same crest stamped in black ink across the front beside my name.
Miss Liora Seraphine Hawthorne.
I run my thumb over the raised wax before carefully breaking the seal.
The crack echoes through the apartment.
For some reason, it feels irreversible.
Like opening it will divide my life into before and after.
Slowly, I slide everything onto the coffee table.
The contents spread out before me in neat, deliberate order.
A smaller ivory envelope.
Several official-looking legal documents bound together with a black ribbon.
An train ticket printed on thick cream cardstock.
And beneath them all...
A folded invitation made from black paper edged in silver.
Everything smells faintly of cedarwood and old books.
The scent of my grandfather's study.
My chest aches.
I reach for the smaller envelope first.
Written across the front in elegant, familiar handwriting are four simple words.
To My Little Bird.
My grandfather had called me Little Bird for as long as I could remember.
"Because no matter how far you fly," he'd always say, "you'll always know the way home."
A sob rises unexpectedly into my throat.
I close my eyes, willing myself not to fall apart.
Not yet.
With trembling fingers, I open the envelope and unfold the letter inside.
The paper is worn, as though it had been folded months... maybe years... before it ever reached me.
I begin to read.
My dearest Liora,
If you're reading this, then I have failed in my greatest wish... to remain with you a little longer.
For that, I am deeply sorry.
I know what I ask of you will seem impossible. It may even feel cruel. But I need you to trust me one final time.
There are promises older than either of us.
Promises that have waited generations to be fulfilled.
And one of them belongs to you now.
The words blur.
A tear slips free before another quickly follows.
I press the heel of my hand against my eyes, trying to steady my breathing.
This couldn't be real.
It sounded nothing like the practical, grounded man who had raised me.
Promises?
Generations?
What was he talking about?
I force myself to continue.
You have been promised to the Ravenscroft line since before you were born. To Sebastian Lucien Ravenscroft, heir to the Manor.
This is not a request. It is a binding agreement between families. One that has endured longer than either of us have been alive.
I know you will feel betrayed. I know you will not understand. But you must go to Ravenscroft Manor. You must meet Sebastian. And you must not break what has already been set in motion.
The words stop me cold.
My lungs forget how to work for a second.
Promised.
Betrothed.
To someone I’ve never met.
I force myself to continue.
Inside the envelope you will find everything required to fulfill the arrangement.
The legal documents confirm the marriage contract between the Hawthorne and Ravenscroft families. Your signature is not needed for its validity, but your presence is required for its enforcement.
The train ticket will take you to Blackstone Station. From there, you will be collected and brought to Ravenscroft Manor.
The invitation will grant you entry. Without it, the gates will not open for you.
And Liora…
Do not mistake Sebastian’s silence for absence. He has been waiting for you longer than you realize.
A chill crawls slowly up my spine.
I lower the letter and stare at the remaining items across the table.
With hesitant fingers, I untie the black ribbon around the legal document.
The legal documents confirm everything in cold, formal language.
Marriage contract.
Binding union of House Ravenscroft and House Hawthorne.
No mention of choice.
No mention of refusal.
Just signatures that predate me.
A life decided before I ever had a say in it.
My throat tightens as I pick up the train ticket.
Departure: 7:10 A.M.
Destination: Blackstone Station
Final Stop: Ravenscroft Village
Tomorrow.
Of course it's tomorrow.
My eyes drift to the black invitation last.
Sliver lettering catches the light.
I unfold it.
The House of Ravenscroft
requests the presence of
Miss Liora Seraphine Hawthorne
at Ravenscroft Manor
in accordance with the long-standing union between the Ravenscroft and Hawthorne
families.
The heir awaits your arrival.
The gates will open only once.
My pulse stutters.
"The heir awaits your arrival."
Sebastian Lucien Ravenscroft.
A man I've never seen, never spoken to, never chosen.
And yet somehow...
He already knows me.
Why hadn't my grandfather ever mentioned any of this?
Questions swirl through my mind faster than I can grasp them.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
The apartment feels suddenly unfamiliar, like it doesn't belong to the version of me that's been written into this letter.
As if the life I'd spent years building had quietly become someone else's while I wasn't looking.
I glance once more at the moving boxes waiting by the bedroom.
The internship.
The city.
The future I'd planned so carefully.
Then I look back at my grandfather's letter.
At the train ticket.
At the invitation.
At the marriage contract.
My throat tightens.
"I don't understand," I whisper into the empty apartment.
Silence answers.
A fresh tear slips down my cheek.
I pick up his letter one last time, tracing the familiar loops of his handwriting with my fingertips.
A shaky smile breaks through my grief.
"Okay, Grandpa," I whisper, my voice barely audible.
"I trust you."
The words settle into the quiet.
Somewhere deep inside, beneath the fear... beneath the grief...
A door has already begun to open.
And tomorrow morning...
I'll walk through it.
- Writer
