Scene Four: Sebastian L. Ravenscroft
684 Words
The carriage door swung open, and I stepped down onto the weathered cobblestones. The evening air wrapped around me like a damp veil, cool enough to raise goosebumps along my arms.
I lifted my gaze, finally seeing the manor up close.
It was even more breathtaking than it had seemed from the road.
Towering stone walls rose toward the darkening sky, their age softened by thick ivy that climbed every surface. Crimson and ivory roses wound through the vines, blooming in impossible abundance despite the late autumn chill. Stained-glass windows glowed faintly from within, each one depicting scenes I couldn't quite make out, as though they held stories waiting to be told.
The estate felt forgotten by time... and yet meticulously cared for.
It was as if I had wandered into the pages of a fairy tale. Strange. Beautiful. Haunting.
My brows knitted together.
Roses? In late fall?
A harsh caw shattered the silence.
I startled, letting out a small gasp as a raven landed atop the carriage, its glossy black feathers catching the fading light. My hand flew to my chest as I glared at the bird.
"Oh, very funny," I muttered.
With another sharp cry, it spread its wings and disappeared into the gathering mist.
As if on cue, church bells echoed somewhere in the distance.
Slow. Hollow.
The sound drifted across the valley like a warning.
Well... that's ominous.
Turning back toward the manor, I froze.
Someone was waiting for me.
A man stood at the top of the wide stone staircase, motionless beneath the towering entrance. His long black coat stirred gently in the wind, blending so seamlessly with the lengthening shadows that he seemed carved from them.
He descended the steps with quiet, unhurried grace.
There was nothing rushed about him.
Nothing uncertain.
When he reached the bottom, he lifted his head fully, and my breath caught.
His hair was dark as midnight, falling neatly around a strikingly handsome face. A strong jaw, high cheekbones, and features so perfectly sculpted they hardly seemed real. His eyes were the deepest shade of brown—almost black—and in the dying crimson light of sunset they reflected an ember-like warmth that was impossible to look away from.
He wore clothes unlike anything I'd ever seen outside of history books.
A finely tailored black frock coat reached nearly to his knees, fitted perfectly across broad shoulders. Beneath it was a charcoal waistcoat embroidered with subtle silver thread, a crisp white shirt fastened to the collar, and a dark cravat tied with effortless precision. Slim black trousers disappeared into polished leather boots.
None of it looked like a costume.
It looked... natural.
As though these clothes belonged to him as surely as the manor did.
For one absurd moment, I wondered if everyone in the nearby village dressed this way.
The thought almost made me smile.
Almost.
As he stopped a respectful distance away, the faint scent of cedar, rain-soaked earth, and something colder... almost metallic... drifted toward me.
His hands were pale, resting calmly behind his back.
His expression was unreadable, yet there was nothing threatening about it.
If anything...
There was patience.
A quiet sadness.
Almost... protectiveness.
I had expected someone intimidating.
Someone arrogant.
Instead, I found myself simply... curious.
"You must be Miss Hawthorne," he said.
His voice was low and smooth, every word measured with careful restraint. Polite.
Yet beneath the courtesy lingered something deeper that made my pulse flutter for reasons I couldn't explain.
"I am Sebastian Lucien Ravenscroft."
The name had felt distant in my grandfather's letters.
Heavy.
Foreboding.
Hearing him speak it aloud somehow gave it even greater weight.
I swallowed.
"Hello," I managed, my voice much quieter than I'd intended. "I'm... Liora."
He inclined his head.
"I understand this is... sudden," he said. "I won't pretend otherwise."
A nervous laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
"Sudden is certainly one way to describe it."
The corner of his mouth lifted into a small, gentle smile.
It was warm...
But somehow heartbreakingly sad.
As though smiling had once come easily, and now required effort.
- Writer
