Chapter 547: Lucys Home

Chapter 547: Lucys Home

Situated on Crown Street, which forms the boundary of the upper district of Wind Harbor, there is an enigmatic mansion that has long captured the imagination of locals and visitors alike. The property is officially listed as 99 Crown Street.

Architecturally, the mansion is a three-story edifice with a pointed roof, displaying a unique design sensibility that sets it apart from the prevalent elf-style architecture commonly seen throughout Wind Harbor. While most homes in the area boast light, airy exteriors and verdant gardens, this mansion opts for a darker, more brooding appearance. Its roof is a deep, almost forbidding shade, which stands in sharp contrast to its immaculately white walls. The large windows that punctuate the faade are ornate, featuring intricate patterns and elaborate linings that add an element of grandiosity to the structure.

One of the mansions most exceptional features is its expansive garden that sprawls both in the front and the rear of the property. Given the densely packed nature of the city-state, a garden of this size is a remarkable rarity. Even more intriguing is the selection of plants and shrubs it houses, many of which are so uncommon that even the most seasoned botanists would struggle to identify them.

The mansion is as mysterious as it is distinctive. Its owner is an elusive figure who is seldom seen in public. During daylight, the only signs of life are the few silent servants who meticulously tend the garden and maintain the home. Yet things take an eerie turn when night falls, and the mansions lights come on. Uncanny shadows can often be glimpsed darting about within the illuminated windows.

Local lore is rich with bizarre accounts about the mansion. Some claim to have witnessed the daytime servants shedding their human appearance at night, morphing into unsettling wooden puppets and metallic tin men that roam the halls. Others speak of being irresistibly lured by mysterious whispers as they walk past the property, only to find themselves disoriented and transported to an entirely different location when they snap back to reality. Even more unsettling are stories of the gardens plants transforming into dark, twisted thorns that envelop the first floor like a malevolent cage as the sun sets.

Out of all these stories, perhaps the most extravagant rumor posits that the mansion is the prison of a vengeful female spirit. Allegedly, her powerful curse emanates from the depths of the mansions basement, warping the servants into lifeless automata when darkness falls.

However, its worth noting that these claims have largely been dismissed as the products of overactive imaginations. In the numerous city-states scattered across the Boundless Seas, rumors and myths of this sort are far from uncommon. The anxieties and concerns brought on by the strange events that sometimes occur under the cover of darkness often lead to heightened states of alertness among the populace. Consequently, many people are prone to interpreting even innocuous sounds and sights as evidence of malevolent forces at work. The city-state guardians routinely investigate numerous reports of supernatural occurrences, most of which turn out to be false alarms triggered by such heightened anxieties.

Generally speaking, as long as this elevated state of alertness doesnt evolve into a form of mental corruption, its not seen as a significant problem. After all, a heightened sense of caution doesnt actually manifest real threats. However, its preferable for citizens to remain vigilant, as genuine supernatural incidents, although rare, are not entirely outside the realm of possibility.

As for who truly owns this mysterious mansion on Crown Streetthat remains one of Wind Harbors most enduring mysteries.

Lucretia, widely known as the Sea Witch, had long grown comfortable with the aura of dread that enveloped her and the fearful glances or ominous messages that came her way. Ironically, she had nurtured many of the unnerving rumors surrounding her mansion at 99 Crown Street in Wind Harbor.

I need a sanctuary within the city-state, Lucretia said, relaxing in the sumptuous interiors of her mansion. Life at sea can be exceedingly stressful, even for someone like me. She approached a large, ornately framed window, peering through it to observe the quiet entrance that led to her mansion. Im not fond of social interactions, and in a city-state as crowded as this, truly isolated spots are hard to come by. So, it suits me to create an atmosphere sufficiently intimidating to ward off inquisitive eyes.

Duncan, who had been studying the various artifacts and opulent furnishings that adorned the mansion, interjected, Why not follow Tyrians example? He found a desolate island in the icy reaches of the Cold Seas to establish the Mist Fleets base. That location offers him uninterrupted solitude for centuries to come.

Lucretia spun around, a smirk gracing her lips. So I should be like Tyrian and risk being caught by our dear father while enjoying a striptease in the comfort of my own home?

Visibly embarrassed, Duncan cleared his throat. Ahem! Keep such comments about your brother between us, or better yet, for when youre actually in his presence.

Duncan listened with rapt attention, struggling to find the right words. It dawned on him that the witch was not merely sharing her experiences; she was confiding in him about another individual, someone who had also left an indelible mark on her life. He knew he had no right to feel burdened or remorseful for her hardships. And yet, despite himself, he couldnt remain emotionally detached. A surge of unfamiliar emotions welled within him, emotions he wasnt certain he had a claim to. Finally, breaking the weighty silence, all he could muster was a soft, empathetic sigh, Both of you have borne immeasurable burdens.

Its not as bleak as you might imagine, Lucretia began, her smile almost wistful as she shook her head. During the initial ten years following your departure, Tyrian and I felt your absence acutely. Each time we heard those haunting sounds, or glimpsed those eerie visions, a foolish glimmer of hope would spark within us. We entertained the unlikely notion that, should you actually follow the lighthousesTyrian and meback into our reality, perhaps things could revert to the way they once were.

She paused, her expression changing subtly, However, as another ten years elapsed, the dreadful occurrences linked to the Vanished appearing near the fabric of our reality intensified. Our concerns deepened into genuine fear. Driven, perhaps, by what one might call a sense of duty, we committed to finding a way to permanently exile you from our world.

Lucretia continued, As more years passed, our attempts at your banishment seemed to yield results. The fear started to subside, giving way to nostalgia. Every so often, my brother would bring up the halcyon days of our shared past. While we were cautious never to utter your name, or that of the Vanished, we couldnt avoid reminiscing about our grand adventures and unforgettable voyages.

She sighed, Over the last three or four decades, all the conversations that could be had were exhausted. We found ourselves increasingly reticent about even mentioning the Vanished. It seemed as if it had all become a relic of history. Official documents in various city-states and sailors logbooks relegated the Vanished to the realm of legend. Even the dread associated with our ships, the Sea Mist and Bright Star, had markedly ebbed.

And then, just like that, you reappeared, she said, her eyes narrowing. The White Oak emerged from a storm, bringing disconcerting news to the city-state of Pland. Did you know that Tyrian lost sleep for three consecutive nights after hearing of your return?

Suddenly, her laughter rang out, rich and genuine, as if a heavy weight had been lifted a sound she hadnt indulged in for a century.

A delicate silver hair accessory at the end of her locks, designed like undulating waves and feathers, shimmered as it caught the light, adding an extra layer of warmth to her laughter.

Duncan sighed softly, readying himself to respond.

However, before he could articulate his thoughts, a sudden shriek from the direction of the living room cut him off. The shrill sound reverberated through the air, halting their conversation in its tracks.

It was unmistakably Ninas voice.

Both Duncan and Lucretia exchanged a quick, concerned glance, then pivoted swiftly, rushing towards the living room.

As they covered half the distance, Ninas voice reached them again, this time brimming with a combination of shock and unmistakable outrage.

Why on earth did they put stink beans on the pancakes?