Chapter 2
1352 Words
I woke up as a damp cloth touched my face. My eyes fluttered open, and I instinctively sat up, disoriented.
"Nana? W–what happened last night?" I asked groggily, rubbing my eyes. "And… where are we?"
I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of my surroundings. The room I was in looked like it had been pulled straight out of a fairy tale. The ceiling soared above me, vaulted with intricate carvings, and the chandelier hanging in the center looked like it belonged in a royal palace. The walls were lined with golden accents, the furniture polished to an unnatural shine. Everything screamed luxury—unfamiliar, imposing, and breathtaking.
My grandmother didn’t respond. She just smiled faintly as she wrung out the cloth in her hands and went back to gently dabbing my forehead. Her silence made my brow furrow. I tilted my head, trying to read her expression, but it was calm—eerily calm, like everything was normal. Which only made everything feel less normal.
Without saying a word, she turned and walked toward the massive double doors. Confused but compelled to follow, I climbed out of the bed. Even the floors looked like they cost more than our whole farmhouse back home. And those doors—who even needed doors that big unless you were hiding a dragon behind them?
I pushed one open with effort, and it groaned slightly before swinging wide. A gust of perfumed air greeted me, along with the glint of more chandeliers. A wide hallway stretched ahead, as if it belonged to a palace that existed outside of time. Marble floors, glimmering sconces, tall windows framed with blood-red curtains.
Am I dreaming?
Am I dead?
Or—am I secretly rich and Nana never told me?
Maybe the whole farm life was a setup. A ruse. Like some elaborate social experiment. Maybe I was secretly a lost princess? The last heir to some hidden European monarchy? I laughed a little too loudly at the thought. British royalty? Nah. I snorted. With my clumsiness and awkward laugh? That’s a straight-up sitcom, not a fantasy.
Still… this place was real. It felt real. I walked further down the hall, my bare feet tapping lightly against the polished floor. The first staircase I saw spiraled down like something out of Beauty and the Beast, and I hesitated before descending.
The moment I stepped off the last step, something strange happened.
Everyone in the grand foyer turned to me. Then, in perfect synchronization—they bowed.
"Good morning, Lady Lilla," they said in unison.
My mouth fell open. My brain refused to process anything. Lady Lilla?
What the hell?
I forced out a shaky, "G–good morning." My voice cracked from surprise and disuse.
"Uh… where am I?"
"You are in Zoldrikh, Lady Lilla. The neutral town," one of the staff said, standing tall but respectful.
"Zoldrikh? Neutral? Neutral for what?" I echoed.
Is this a hotel? A themed resort? A fantasy roleplay camp?
"This place welcomes all races. It is governed by Eula von Whisler, the current head witch."
I froze. "My grandmother? A witch? Wait. Are we… filming something?"
They stared at me blankly.
I added quickly, "Because this—this is a lot. I mean, I’m not even good at acting."
"You have many questions, Lady Lilla. Elder Eula is currently meeting with the Wolves’ Alpha King and the Vampire King. You should join her. Please follow me."
My head spun. Witches. Wolves. Vampires. What is this? A crossover episode of every dark fantasy novel I’ve ever skimmed in the bookstore?
Still, I followed. My heartbeat thundered in my chest. The halls we passed were majestic, the kind you’d see in historical dramas—with thick rugs and portraits whose eyes seemed to follow you. We stopped in front of another massive set of doors. The staff member knocked three times.
The doors creaked open, and I was announced with such formality it gave me chills: "Lady Lilla Anselet Wellington has arrived."
I paused. Wait—what?
My real name is Lilla Whisler.
I leaned toward him, whispering, "Ahmm… it’s Whisler. Not Wellington."
But he didn’t respond. He was already guiding me toward an empty chair in a massive circular chamber. The air inside smelled of incense and something floral, faint but distinct.
At the center of the room sat my grandmother, stern and composed. Beside her was an old woman dressed in black, her robe embroidered with a triple moon crest on the chest. On either side stood two tall, imposing men—one with skin as pale as frost, the other tanned and radiant like he belonged under the sun.
And then—I gasped.
The men from my dreams.
No—my recurring dreams. The ones I’ve had for months, maybe years. Always vague. Always intense. They were real?
I stammered out a croaky "H–hi."
"It’s good that you’re here," my grandmother said, her voice cool and controlled. "This meeting directly involves you."
"What? Why? What’s going on?" I asked, inching forward in my seat.
"It seems she hasn’t been told anything, Witch Elder," said the pale man. His voice was smooth, like velvet soaked in ice water. He had long, jet-black hair tied in a man bun, and his cold blue eyes kept flicking in my direction.
"And I’m Atticus Quinn Athelard," said the other one. His deep voice made me shiver—not from fear, but something else. He was muscular, but not in a gym-rat way. More like a warrior. His amber eyes practically glowed, locking onto mine as he extended a hand.
I reached for it cautiously. The moment our skin touched, heat flooded up my arm. I pulled away instinctively, cheeks flushing as I quickly tucked my hair behind my ear.
"I’m Lilla," I muttered.
He smirked. I didn’t like how amused he looked.
"I’m Callisto Ansell Malgerius," said the pale one coolly.
I nodded weakly, still feeling like I was in some weird lucid dream.
"I was supposed to tell her everything today," Nana said at last. "But after what happened last night, there was no time."
My gaze snapped to her. "Tell me what, Grandmother?"
"I am Eula von Whisler. The current Witch Queen. I was tasked to watch over you until you turned eighteen."
"You what?" I laughed. "That’s… that’s ridiculous."
No one else laughed.
I blinked. "You’re serious?"
"After your succession ceremony tonight," she continued, "a duel will take place."
"A duel? Between whom?"
"Between the Alpha King and the Vampire King. For you."
I stared. Then laughed again. "Okay. Let me get this straight. You’re telling me I’m—what? A witch? A princess? The prize in some supernatural Hunger Games event?"
"You’re the Anima," the older woman said suddenly. Her voice was raspier than Nana’s, more ethereal. "The life-force bearer. You are destined to bind the realms together."
I stood up. "Okay. I’m out. I don’t know what kind of fantasy LARP this is, but I didn’t sign up for it. I want answers. Real answers. Not some fanfiction plotline."
The two men looked at me strangely. Atticus tilted his head like I was a puzzle, and Callisto just scoffed again.
"I told you she wasn’t ready," Callisto muttered.
"And I told you I’d handle this my way," Nana snapped, her tone sharp. "Both of you, return to your rooms. I will speak to Lilla alone."
Reluctantly, the two men stood. Atticus gave me one last look, almost wistful, and Callisto—well, he just rolled his eyes and walked out.
Once we were alone, I sat back down.
"You have to explain everything, Nana," I whispered. "Please. What’s happening to me?"
She looked at me kindly, but with a sadness I didn’t understand. "You are more than you know, my little firefly. Tonight will be the beginning—and the end—of what you thought your life was."
I sat down slowly, trembling from everything I’d heard. Everything I’d seen.
A witch. A queen. A duel.
What had I just woken up into?
- Writer
