“You are not Master Cordelia Ironweaver.”

  It was an accusation, statement, and threat all in one sentence. Raelin felt their heart drop knowing that whatever came forward there was little way to escape what the Lady had planned. Glancing across the small sitting room, it felt small, and the larger Lady seemed to encompass every aspect of the room, as she did the conversation along with the entirety of the Witchrift Manner.

  She was neither human nor elf, but other with some relatable aspects of both. If they were not in such an intimate setting Raelin could have mistaken her for a half-breed, but it was clear that she was neither and both. Perhaps a race that was so obscure or minimized it was hard to decipher.

  She had long silver hair and dark midnight skin, with fingertips tipped in silver and gold that reflected both the sun and the moon. Both metals were embroidered into the bodice and beams of her long and elegant gown. There was little frill and fluff to her, but elegance in the simplicity of each layer from skirt, blouse, corset, and delicate shoulder cover that may have been a shawl but far too intentional to not be sleeves. Her skin also had the most subtle inking in a variety of designs linked to each other. Runes that Raelin had never seen before.

  “How old are you?”

  The words blurted out long before they had a moment to realize that it was more at the forefront of their mind than the concern of being caught.

  She gave a small quirk of her lips, a smile, maybe but even still Raelin’s face went to a very bright red.

  “I suppose I did not ask a question,” the Lady said, “but I will not answer yours. It is… irrelevant.”

  Raelin went brighter red, and could not escape the heat they felt.

  “I know that the invitation was not sent to you, but you procured it from another to save your sister.”

  Shock stiffened Raelin, and the coldness hit like a bucket of ice in the middle of a scorching summer heat. Instantly the sheepish feeling of earlier bled away to fear.

  What could they do? How was he going to save Byne? If he was kicked out now, Byne was all but dead. Not that Byne had much hope otherwise, but Raelin wasn’t sure if there was a fight here or some kind of resignation. Raelin simply could not read the Lady. At all.

  Her intentions were as opaque to him as a stone wall.

  “If you know what I did, then you already know what I need,” Raelin said, already garnering there was no walking around the truth with a spun tale or slipped-in misdirection. The truth felt dirty and unwelcome most of the time, and Raelin reveled in the dance of avoidance. The Lady was going to have none of that, and it felt deeply uncomfortable.

  There was only the slightest hint of a nod before the Lady spoke again. “For that, I can not help you.”

  Raelin’s stomach dropped. Hope against hope, there was little that could have helped but when hope dies so does their sister.

  “However…”

  Raelin’s attention went straight back to her, the hope surging in a way that wasn’t held before. Before it was barely a possibility, but that one word gave the impossible probability.

  “However…” Raelin spoke, hating that she caught their attention with such a simple maneuver. Simple, but effective.

  “…the invitation had not been sent to you, but it was you who was meant to have the invitation. You would never have been able to enter the Manor otherwise.”

  Pretentious, even Raelin wasn’t convinced SOMETHING could have gotten in. There were stories of it happening, and there was always a thread of truth in every story no matter how ludicrous. That their presence here was intentional, Raelin’s discomfort continued to grow.

  “Because I would do anything for my sister? That by holding her life above me I’ll do anything for you?” It was impossible to miss the bitterness in the questions, but the truth of the conversation so far meant that Raelin would do anything to save their sister. Murder already was one of them, what could this all-powerful Lady need of them? Likely didn’t want to get their hands dirty. “What is your ‘anything’ for an empty promise?”

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  The Lady looked to her Elven butler and gave a small nod. He gave a bow to her in return and headed to a wall, pressed on some kind of pressure point and the hidden door swung out to another exit from the room. Of course, there were secret passages in the magical manor. He disappeared shortly through, though a light flickered from the other side. A torch, most likely.

  “Every guest was hand-picked tonight are people who need something but can not be helped by any kind of magic, nature, or will. While some may find favor among the Stars and Deities, there would never be enough time or even want to do so.”

  She motioned for Raelin to follow the Butler, and with hesitation, Raelin headed towards the secret door to find a stone staircase leading down. The light a ways ahead made it easy to find the steps. The Lady followed behind and waited patiently for them to continue before also following along.

  The first thing that Raelin noticed was the distinct lack of magic, the minute they stepped on the first threshold step that least to whatever was below. And while magic could be subtle and hidden, Raelin could always rely on it being there. The times that it wasn’t, a feeling that had happened a time or two before, it was as if the air no longer held life or possibility. In a place that was brimming with so much, it was as if they could no longer breathe.

  “Unsettling, isn’t it.” The voice behind them spoke, the Lady sounded older, more worn than the beautiful woman that had stood before them earlier. Confirming that Raelin was not just imagining it.

  Gritting their teeth, Raelin followed for only a story or two before they came to another opening of a door, the Butler standing soldier to allow them to pass through. It was the first time that Raelin could really look at him, gathering the features and coloring of his skin. He was old, it was a sense Raelin knew instinctively as well as visually, but his skin was a strange peach to a normal yellow or rose hue. High cheekbones but further from the nose with eyes thinner with creases of age well groomed and healthy. It made it nearly impossible to guess at his age, whether it was a few hundred or several thousand. Even the ears were different upon closer look with several points below instead of the single smooth points most Elven have; they were kindof reptilian-like. Raelin was beginning to think he was not Elven but something else altogether. If that was the case, would there be others or some other indication in other people he came from or could have descended from his people?

  It was a puzzle Raelin desperately wanted to claw at, always seeking more knowledge and finding answers to puzzles, but they knew it would only lead them off track. A final glance at the Butler, Raelin finally asked.

  “What is your name? I can’t keep calling you the butler, and somehow I think calling you ‘Elven’ would be insulting.”

  He raised a small eyebrow at the word 'elven' but otherwise remained unmoved.

  “His name is relatively unpronounceable by most,” The Lady said with a smile as she walked past them to exit the staircase like she appreciated that they asked. “Many who attend have referred to him as Master J.”

  Like Jeeves? Raelin didn’t say the thought aloud but they could not help but smile. “Master Jay. Thank you.”

  He gave a nod and Raelin returned their attention to the space around them.

  It was OLD. Little could encompass the amount of ‘old’ Raelin could sense from the stones around them, lacking the same golden threads holding the stone together, it had a weight of age to it heavier than time itself. How was this space even being held up? If this was the cornerstone of the entire Manor, how long could it remain despite the vast amount of magic piled on top of it? Afraid to even touch the walls lest they crumble, the space was well maintained. If stone had fallen there was none on the ground, and there were no sign or scent of rodents or spiders. ‘Likely hiding from Master J’, Raelin thought ruefully.

  “Here.” The Lady said, bringing Raelin’s focus to a singular space carved into the wall, where a statue in a state of rest stood. Much like the stone around it, time had worn away and there with limited light from the torch held by Master Ja, the features of it was incredibly worn. Raelin could see little in terms of features but instead saw more of a snowman shape often made by children during winter when near long the Winsolstar celebration.

  “What is it?” Raelin asked, stepping a little closer. Master J offered the torch but Raelin shock their head and instead hummed a few notes to bring a few small globular of light to form in their hand. It held a more consistent light and made it a little easier to pinpoint details. There had been runes carefully lauded within the stone, now a mere impression, and with a curious wonder of thought, had it looked more like a human, or was this a representation of what the Lady was, or Master J? It was so, there was no way of telling now. That, and the thing was round and poly like a pile of boulders.

  “It is what most would consider an automaton, but such complexities were not required to create such a construct. This is a Golem, made of clay and magic.” There was a strange longing and sadness in her tone as she spoke of the last.

  Raelin attempted to fill in the gap, “There is no more magic.”

  She hesitated before giving a curt nod. “Yes. Which is why you are here, and our lives depend on you.”