CHAPTER TWELVE; The forgotten wing
577 Words
The rain had stopped before dawn.
Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows of the eastern hallway, painting the marble floor with shades of crimson, blue, and gold.
Luna couldn't stop thinking about the empty portrait.
"Someone history chose to forget."
Her father's words echoed in her mind.
History didn't forget.
People did.
And people only erased what they feared.
Breakfast was unusually quiet.
Alexander had already left for a meeting in the city.
Adrian read through a stack of business reports while barely touching his food.
Elena chatted politely with Nathan about a charity gala their families were expected to attend.
Julian kept trying—and failing—to make Mia laugh with ridiculous stories about a goose chasing him through the gardens.
Mia laughed anyway.
Luna smiled as she watched them.
For a brief moment...
The mansion felt like an ordinary home.
Then Adrian looked up.
"Father wants us all in the council room tomorrow."
Julian groaned.
"Another lecture?"
"It's about responsibility."
Julian sighed dramatically.
"I'm suddenly feeling very irresponsible."
Elena rolled her eyes.
"You always are."
Nathan laughed quietly.
Luna noticed something.
Nathan never tried to dominate a conversation.
He simply listened.
It made him surprisingly easy to be around.
After breakfast, Luna wandered toward the library.
She intended to read.
Instead...
She found Clara dusting shelves near one of the older windows.
"Clara."
The older woman smiled.
"Miss Luna."
Luna hesitated.
Then lowered her voice.
"The empty portrait..."
Clara's hands stopped moving.
"What about it?"
"Who was it?"
Silence.
A long silence.
Finally Clara resumed dusting.
"Some questions have no happy answers."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
"It isn't."
Luna stepped closer.
"Did you know them?"
Clara looked toward the door to make sure no one else was listening.
"I've served this family for over forty years."
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"I've known many people."
Luna's heartbeat quickened.
"So there was someone."
Clara's expression softened.
"There was."
"Who?"
Before Clara could answer—
A bell rang through the mansion.
Three sharp chimes.
Clara immediately straightened.
"I have work to do."
"Clara."
But the older woman was already walking away.
She didn't look back.
Luna remained alone in the library.
Frustration bubbled beneath the surface.
Everyone knew something.
No one would tell her.
She turned toward the bookshelf.
As she reached for a familiar novel, something caught her eye.
One of the books wasn't sitting flush with the others.
Curious, she pulled it.
Nothing happened.
She pushed it back.
A soft click echoed somewhere nearby.
Luna froze.
Slowly...
A section of the bookshelf shifted.
Dust drifted into the air as a narrow opening appeared behind it.
Her eyes widened.
"A passage..."
Cold air drifted out from the darkness beyond.
The space was just wide enough for one person.
She hesitated.
Every sensible part of her told her to close it and leave.
Instead...
She lifted a nearby lantern.
And stepped inside.
The stone corridor smelled of age and forgotten years.
Cobwebs stretched across the ceiling.
No one had walked here in a very long time.
The passage twisted gently before ending at an old wooden door.
Its iron handle was covered in rust.
Luna wiped away decades of dust.
Carved into the wood were four numbers.
0713.
Her breath caught.
She had seen those numbers before.
In her dreams.
In old notes.
In the back of her mind.
With trembling fingers...
She reached for the handle.
And slowly pushed the door open.
- Writer
