Ever since Daphne had left her father’s office, there was an unsettling feeling that churned inside her. She knew, for so odd reason, whatever it was that her father wished to discuss with Atticus could not be a topic that she would’ve liked.
Never mind her newfound powers, never mind Alistair’s obvious hatred for her and her husband, Daphne was more aware of the unsavory manner Drusilla had been looking over throughout their short and rather unpleasant dinner reunion. That sister of hers — Daphne had co to realize — seed to enjoy snatching whatever it was that Daphne could get.
It felt like Atticus was her new target.
"No good hell-born babe," Daphne murmured under her breath, her teeth gnashing together as she walked down the corridors. No one heard her, and even if they did, no one dared to reply.
It seed like rumors of Daphne’s new powers had already spread through the entire palace. Out of the corner of her eye, she could catch so of the palace staff hiding behind corners and scuttling in the opposite direction whenever they caught her walking by.
Hilariously, none of them ever seed to have that reaction whenever her brothers and sisters walked by them. As far as they know, she would be the least powerful of her siblings, considering how she had only just learned her abilities. People like Leonora or Alistair could’ve easily smote them down to nothing but ash if the servants had dared to cross them.
Of course, it didn’t matter. That was because Leonora and Alistair hadn’t been mistreated by the servants. They had no reason to take revenge.
But Daphne had every reason to.
She huffed, holding her nose high as she continued to march on forward, entirely ignoring the hushed whispers and targeted looks of the eyes hidden in between walls. Based on her mory, she walked towards where she had spent most of her ti as a child― the garden behind the palace with an enormous lake.
Yet, on her way there, an opened door stopped her in her tracks.
Daphne paused, peering in. She recognized the room, albeit not having been in there too many tis. After all, the library wasn’t a place for uncultured people to enter. She had no right, considering how she wasn’t even able to do sothing as simple as light up a candle.
As such, the library doors were always closed for her and she only learned whatever she could from so of the more friendlier palace staff.
Curiosity got the better of her and Daphne stepped in, deciding to take a detour. The gardens would always be there― it could wait.
As Daphne stepped into the grand chamber, she was instantly greeted with rows upon rows of towering, ornate bookshelves that seed to reach the heavens. Leather-bound books lined them, holding centuries worth of wisdom. Soft, warm light bathed the room in a gentle glow, emanating from the elegant chandeliers that hung from the high, vaulted ceilings.
A sweeping, red carpet ran the length of the room, leading to a magnificent, spiral staircase that granted access to the upper levels of books.
To think that Daphne had been locked out of this sanctuary of knowledge for years. Strangely enough, the first ti she had stepped in after so long was only after she had discovered her powers. Yet, there was never a librarian in sight― not back then, not now. She knew not who manned the door and who left it unlocked this ti.
Not that she cared.
Daphne eagerly scurried in, her fingers tracing the spines of the books as she walked down the carpeted path. Row after row, these vessels of knowledge had already collected a fine layer of dust on them, having been left untouched for so long.
It wasn’t a surprise. None of her siblings enjoyed reading. Alistair and Leonora were always more interested in combat while Drusilla adored spending her ti surrounded by the life of beauty and glamor. Even Silas and Luis stayed out of the shelves and away from tos, choosing to find joy outside the palace walls whenever they could.
Blanche, her youngest sister, was probably the only one Daphne had ever seen carry a book in her hands.
Daphne wandered down the aisles, mindlessly flipping through random books until eventually, one caught her eye. She paused, returning the title she had in her hands back to the shelves before she walked towards the odd book that was chained in place.
Unlike the other books, this to was left on a pedestal, an iron lock keeping it securely placed where it was. There were several others like that, but few enough to count using her fingers. Just like the other books Daphne ca across ever since setting foot into the library, this one also had a thin layer of dust coating the cover.
She gently blew at it.
When the dust was cleared, the title that was revealed sent Daphne’s eyes wide open. If only she had found this book earlier before all of this ever happened! It might’ve answered the question as to why she could never tap into her abilities before.
"The history of magic," Daphne read the title out loud, musing to herself.
The chains clanked loudly but it was long enough for Daphne to pick it up and lift it away to read. She flipped it open, coughing a little when a cloud of dust swept up and into her face.
’Magic was first discovered in the kingdom of Reaweth, though its precise dates are unknown. The first known magic practitioner was none other than the first king of Reaweth, King Rowan Verimandi, and his wife, Queen Bethany-Anne Verimandi. Not much is known about how the king and queen received their blessings but they shared God’s gift with the rest of the world through a sacred ritual, bringing magic into the lives of others,’ the book read.
Daphne continued to flip through the pages. Her fingers only stopped when she set her eyes upon the portrait of King Rowan and Queen Bethany-Anne that was drawn on the parchnt. They both wore serious expressions on their faces, looking straight ahead. On the queen’s finger was the sa ring that Daphne now wore― the Symphony.
She smiled to herself and continued to flip. It was strange to think that her husband, soone who was not from Reaweth, had helped her obtain a piece of her family’s history. Her heart ward at the thought.
’It is said that while King Rowan Verimandi shared the gift of magic with the world, he was cautious and understood the dangers of magic. As such, he had prepared counterasures in the event magic users had run rampant and needed to be controlled. The exact details of the anti-magic ritual had been lost to the ravages of ti, but a third of the king’s notes had been discovered. The other two-thirds had not been found, thought to have been destroyed by extremists that were unwilling to give up their power.’
There was a copy of King Verimandi’s notes attached to the next page. Daphne could recognize scattered words, such as ’dawn’, ’blood’, and ’eye’, but none of the sentences were whole enough to form a coherent sentence.
The sudden sound of echoing footsteps caused Daphne to jump a little in her skin.
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