As Victor led me deeper into Thornecross Manor, the echo of our footsteps bounced softly off the high ceilings, mixing with the faint creak of the old floorboards. Warm light from the chandeliers cast pools of amber across the polished wood, revealing furniture that looked as if it had been polished daily for centuries. The air carried the faint scent of beeswax and aged parchment. It was oddly comforting despite the hush of the manor.
I couldn't resist glancing at the walls, where a series of portraits stared back at me. "The portraits," I murmured, "who are they?"
Victor's gaze followed mine, lingering on the solemn faces. "Former leaders and prominent members of the lodge," he said, his voice calm, almost reverent. "Each one represents a legacy of knowledge passed down through generations."
I studied the faces carefully. There was a striking resemblance among many-strong jaws, sharp eyes, confident postures. They could have been siblings, or distant cousins, or perhaps clones if the lodge had more eccentric secrets than I realized. "They all look so similar... are they related?"
Victor's expression darkened subtly, though his posture remained impeccable. "In a way," he said, deliberately vague, as if he enjoyed watching my curiosity twist into suspicion.
I arched a brow and leaned slightly closer. "'In a way'? That's hardly an answer. There's more to this, isn't there?"
He regarded me with a glint in his eye, part humor, part caution. "Indeed. Many of them are connected by blood. It is a tradition. Familial ties help preserve our teachings and ensure the continuity of the lodge's knowledge."
I let his words sink in, while the portraits seemed to watch, their painted eyes silently judging me, or perhaps merely bored with centuries of visitors.
Curiosity gnawed at me further. "And the government doesn't notice any of this?"
Victor's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "We operate discreetly, Masha. The lodge has remained hidden for centuries. Our work is subtle, purposeful, and, importantly, cautious. The authorities are wary of magic, yes, but mostly they fear what they do not understand. Ancient abuses, dark witches, ambitious sorcerers... history has made them jumpy."
I nodded, my fingers itching with both excitement and anxiety.
Victor's tone dropped, slow and deliberate. "Few are drawn to this path. Fewer still have the maturity—or patience—to follow it properly. It requires dedication, insight, and a connection to... forces most people never notice."
I smirked inwardly. Patience, he said. I had always been more of a 'learn by doing and hope for the best' type. Still, the idea of a disciplined approach, with centuries of accumulated knowledge tucked away behind these walls... it was undeniably intriguing.
"Before you meet the Grand Magister, Miss Montclair, allow me to show you a few areas of the lodge. It is customary for new recruits to become acquainted with the main halls first."
I nodded, trying to suppress my nervous excitement. "Of course."
The corridor was quiet. The polished floors were gleaming under the warm glow of the lamps. Unlike the gloomy rumors I had imagined, the Thornecross Manor was well-maintained, elegant without being ostentatious. My eyes darted to the sparse few people walking in the halls or seated at desks; they looked busy and serious, but there was nothing unnatural or eerie about them. I saw at least two women among the men, though the majority were male. Of course.
Victor led me into the first room, a large hall lined with shelves and tables. "This is the Archives. Our knowledge is extensive, recorded and preserved across four levels. Each level contains increasingly advanced teachings." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "As a Seeker, you will have access only to Level One-herbalism, elemental theory, celestial cycles, and basic exercises for mental, emotional, and physical aspects. It is enough to begin your studies and build a foundation."
I ran my gaze over the neat rows of scrolls, manuscripts, and strange symbols sketched on paper. "Level One," I murmured, "so there are three more levels beyond what I can see?"
Victor smiled faintly, the kind of smile that suggested he was revealing just enough. "Yes. Each level requires mastery and, eventually, approval from the Grand Magister. It depends on your rank. Like the government, we have hierarchy here. The higher the level, the more... delicate the work becomes. Level Four is reserved for the Grand Magister and the Keepers alone."
I smiled again. "Have you been there, then?"
"No."
"Why?"
My companion gave me his typical, unreadable look. "I can only access up to Level Three."
We moved along to a bright courtyard, sunlight streaming through the open garden cloisters. The air smelled faintly of herbs and fresh earth. "Here, students meditate, recover after rituals, or practice grounding techniques," he explained. "It is quiet by design. Most people are occupied elsewhere, so you may see only a few of our members at any time."
I nodded, glancing around. The place was serene, even beautiful, and the silence felt purposeful rather than ominous. "It's... less intimidating than I thought," I admitted, more to myself.
My friend's eyes twinkled. "Appearances can be deceiving, Miss Montclair. It is easy to think the lodge is merely a university of sorts, but even its calmness serves a purpose."
As we continued, my curiosity grew. "And the Grand Magister... he oversees all of this?"
"Yes," Victor replied, with a bow of his head. "He sees everything that matters. But it is not customary for new recruits, or Seekers as we call them, to meet him before understanding the basics. Hence, my role, your guide for this initial stage."
I allowed myself a small, wry smile. "So, I get a personal VIP tour before I meet the big boss. Lucky me."
As we ascended the staircase, my thoughts buzzed like restless moths around a flame. The polished wood underfoot echoed each step, carrying us toward a set of double doors carved with intricate patterns, their design hinting at the care and history behind the lodge. Victor paused and gave a quiet knock.
A smooth, male voice called from within. "Enter."
The doors swung open, revealing a study lined with shelves of leather-bound tomes and scattered papers. At the far end, a man looked up from his work.
He was in his early to mid-thirties, with longish ash-blonde hair that fell neatly around his shoulders. His skin was pale, almost dry-looking, with faint lines etched around his eyes and mouth, lending a subtle air of severity, but it was softened by his expression, which radiated warmth and effortless charm. His eyes were a clear shade of cornflower blue with a glint that suggested both intelligence and approachability.
He must be the assistant of the Grand Magister, considering his age. Most Grand Magisters I saw from the portraits were in their middle age. But my assumption turned out to be wrong.
The man rose from his seat and extended a hand. "Miss Masha Montclair. I am Mr. Magnus Dagron, Grand Magister of the Shadow Covenant. Welcome."
I blinked, momentarily thrown. Somehow I had expected an older, stern man, the sort you imagine in a courtroom, grim and never smiling. Instead, here was someone polite, polished, and disarmingly approachable, as if he had stepped out of a drawing-room rather than a lodge of secrets.
I extended my hand in return, a bit awkwardly, my nerves making it stiffer than intended. His grip was firm yet gentle, and his eyes held mine just long enough to feel an odd, quiet assessment. It was neither invasive nor impatient.
"Thank you," I said, keeping my voice steady.
His voice had a smooth quality and calm, the kind that could make even the most tense person feel strangely at ease. Mr. Dagron's warm, polite smile added a layer of reassurance, though I could not deny the flutter of nerves his presence stirred in me. I shifted slightly on my feet, careful not to show just how much I was observing him. Every subtle movement, every tilt of his head, every glance.
He turned toward Victor, and said with a slight change in his voice. "I assume the preparations have been made."
"Indeed, Master," Victor replied, his voice even and formal, though his expression softened ever so slightly as he glanced in my direction.
Mr. Dagron's eyes returned to me, and I felt the faint pull of his attention, as if he were gently testing the waters. "Miss Montclair," he said, "you seem so young. Before we proceed, you will need to acquaint yourself with the Covenant's principles. Here."
He reached toward a nearby table and picked up a neatly bound manual, then changed his mind and picked another one instead. Its leather cover embossed with the Shadow Covenant's emblem, which was a snake coiling around a mirror. The weight of it felt unexpectedly grounding as he handed it to me.
I took it, fingers brushing his briefly. The text seemed dense but precise, the kind of careful instructions and guidelines that implied discipline, patience, and respect for knowledge. I opened it quietly, skimming the first few pages. It read like a combination of etiquette, meditation exercises, and rules for interacting within the lodge-practical, yet subtly layered with warnings and expectations.
The Grand Magister watched me over the rim of his eyes, as though observing my reaction. "Take your time to read it. We value understanding as much as aptitude. A careful mind is safer than a hasty one."
I nodded, though I could feel my curiosity urging me to ask more. "So, uh... this is what beginners start with? Meditation and etiquette before... more practical lessons?" I tried to keep my tone light, testing him, though my heart raced at the thought of what "practical" might entail.
Mr. Dagron inclined his head slightly, lips curving into that same gentle smile. "Indeed. Control begins within. Before one can harness the hidden forces, one must understand oneself. The exercises are simple, but they are not easy."
He glanced at my friend again. "Let us proceed when ready. Observe her, but do not intervene unless necessary."
Victor nodded and moved slightly to the side, leaving me standing between the two of them. My mind spun with anticipation, curiosity, and, of course, the ever-present question: what exactly had I gotten myself into?
I turned the manual to the last page and found a detailed map of our country. The country of Lorvain. Then I closed the book and slipped it into my satchel.
Mr. Dagron observed quietly, his expression somewhat unreadable but inviting. "Consider this a preliminary assessment," he said softly, "I am watching not just what you read, but how you approach it, how you respond to what you do not yet understand."
I felt the intensity of his gaze, not as intimidation but as scrutiny. My palms were cold and dry, and my heart beat faster, but a small, dry part of me thought, Well, I suppose there are worse ways to be tested.
Victor gave me a subtle, almost imperceptible smile, as if to say, You'll manage.
The Grand Magister gave a final nod and returned to his papers, leaving us alone. Victor gestured for me to follow. "Let us step outside for a moment," he said quietly.
We moved down the polished corridor, the manor serene in its stillness. The place looked more like a well-maintained university than anything shadowy or forbidding. Only two or three other members passed us, their attention fully absorbed in their tasks. None of them made eye contact except an older man who greeted Victor quietly, but he didn't look at me at all. It was as if every gesture they made had a secret meaning they didn't want others to know.
Once we reached the courtyard, morning light warmed the stone paths and manicured hedges. I hesitated, unsure whether to speak. Finally, I asked, "Victor... why now? After eleven years? Why show up at my hotel, and... invite me here?"
He regarded me with his usual calm, polished demeanor. "I have watched your progress carefully, even from afar. Your skills, your intuition. They mark you as someone who could benefit from the Covenant. I came because the opportunity is... rare. And, I thought it might be time."
"But why me? Why now?" I asked, trying to mask the unease in my voice. "There must be hundreds of people with the same interests. Why appear after all this time?"
A muscle tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Because magic is not a passing interest, Masha. It has a history deeper than kingdoms, and a power greater than steel or coin. Some call it evil, others call it dangerous-but even those who fear it are still drawn to study it. We cannot escape it. Magic is survival. It is destiny. Whether we like it or not, it will shape our future. Magic, after all, is the highest science, and the common folk called it witchcraft or sorcery."
His tone grew more earnest, a quiet fire kindling in his eyes. "And the darkness that creeps across this land-would you have it rule unchecked? Or will you learn to meet it, to resist it? I believe you carry more potential than you realize. What I offer is not just knowledge, but a place where you can grow into what you were meant to be."
I thought of my family, of the small village that always felt so far away. The thought of being able to send help back to them, of finally stepping into something greater than a life behind shop counters and dusty jars, stirred something in me. Could this really be what I've been waiting for?
I met his gaze, unwilling to let him see the hope sparking in me. "And if I decide differently later? If I step into your world and regret it, what then?"
A faint smile curved his lips, not mocking. "I would never give you reason to distrust me, my friend. You will have time to choose, and freedom to walk away. But if you stay, we will teach you to sharpen what you already have, and unlock what you've only just begun to discover."
I frowned, doubting his words. "And if I continue but... don't pass?"
Victor's eyes softened. "The initiation lasts six months. Even if you do not pass, the experience will teach you. That knowledge is yours to keep."
I bit my lip. "And... if I fail and still want to return?" I asked this question just in case I failed to read all the books from the Level One Archive.
A tension crossed his face. "That is not permitted. Once the process ends, access to the manor and its resources ends as well. Rules must be respected."
I exhaled, dryly muttering, "Very polite, very final. I see you don't give second chances."
He smiled, almost imperceptibly. "Discipline is part of the path. But do not mistake caution for discouragement. You have curiosity, attention, and courage. Approach the work carefully, and even mistakes become lessons."
I allowed myself a small grin. "Well... I suppose there are worse ways to spend a morning than under your supervision."
He inclined his head, a faint sparkle of something in his eyes. "Come, then. A walk through the gardens may serve better than any advice I can give."
I followed him, the sunlight catching the dew on the hedges, the manor's grandeur surrounding us, my mind racing with questions, along with a quiet thrill I could no longer deny.