Chapter thirty-one
The hypnotic manipulation
Narcissus stood confidently in a deserted corridor within the intriguing confines of the miniature Ethereal House.
The walls glowed softly, giving the place a vibe that was both cozy and kinda magical. “How do you even get in there?” Elizabeth asked, looking around with a confused brow, trying to wrap her head around the whole setup.
“Just step up and walk into the corridor. Seriously, it's a once-a-lifeti-experience!” Narcissus shot back, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, practically bouncing as he gestured for her to co closer.
“Wicked,” Elizabeth murmured, a hint of nervousness creeping into her voice. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes tightly, tilted her head down a little, and stepped forward like she was diving into an unknown adventure. The mont she moved, it felt as if she was erging through a cool, transparent veil—refreshing and invigorating. She felt herself rising, floating through a dreamy landscape of misty clouds, each puff of vapor brushing against her skin like a gentle caress. The sensation was exhilarating, with her hair streaming behind her, dancing in the breeze as if it had a mind of its own. But the euphoric sensation was fleeting.
In what felt like just a blink, she was yanked from that peaceful ascent, hurtling downward at a frightening speed. A gut-wrenching panic surged through her as she soared through the vastness, the ground rushing up to et her. The sharp wind slamd against her face, and just as quickly as it began, she landed safely in the corridor with a soft thud. Narcissus rushed forward and enveloped her in a warm hug as Percy and Emily joined the group, their faces lit with excitent.
“That was absolutely wild!” Elizabeth and Percy exclaid at the sa ti, eyes wide with disbelief. “A bit scary, but what a thrill!” Elizabeth added, instinctively rubbing her wrist where the impact had stung a bit. “Alright, make sure to stick with the group, okay? I gotta run and prep for the election!” Narcissus called cheerfully, waving as she blended into the bustling crowd, leaving behind a trail of energy in her wake.
As they strolled along the sun-dappled corridors, their conversation flowed easily, filled with playful gossip and speculative chatter about the upcoming election. Each twist and turn of their discussion seed to build the anticipation, as they exchanged thoughts about potential candidates and their chances of winning.
But just as the playful banter peaked, they rounded a corner, and the lighthearted mont ca to an abrupt halt.
Before them stood the figure that made Elizabeth’s stomach twist into knots—a face she knew all too well, the one she had wished never to see again.
Ti seed to stretch, each heartbeat echoing in the silence that fell between them.
Elizabeth's breath caught, and her friends fell quiet, sensing the sudden shift. The cheerful energy dissipated, replaced by an uneasy tension. There was no escaping the reality of the situation; they were face-to-face with soone who had unknowingly been the source of countless frustrations and grudges.
Datura Jasmine, holding a leaflet in a crowd of cheering guys, was sneering at Elizabeth in the corner of her eyes. “I wonder what was written on that leaflet," murmured Elizabeth to herself.
"Who cares?" jeered Emily, shooting Datura a disgusted look and turning away.
“Quick!" whispered Percy as he tugged Elizabeth hard.
"Ouch, okay, okay. I'm coming," sighed Elizabeth as she took one last glance at the leaflet and hurried away.
They had entered a grand room where three crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and five long circular desks ca into view.
A long velvet curtain hung from the ceiling to a spiral staircase. Mattresses blanketed the ground, shimring with golden lights.
Almost every seat in the room was occupied, and there were whispers everywhere, smiling faces turning every direction.
They found a seat near the front and blended in with the crowd.
Soon, Josephine entered the room, beaming. But her facial expressions turned from cheerful to outraged when she saw a crowd of girls advocating for Datura appear in the hall.
Waving flags that read 'Vote Jasmine and you will be blessed', they marched into the room and stood right in the center of the Hall.
Josephine sighed and shot a glance at the table like it had just suggested they jump into the lake. When they finally finished eating—though "inhaled" might be a better word, considering it only took five seconds—the excitent about the election was palpable.
It was as if they were about to witness a cat video marathon rather than, you know, democracy in action. No one even noticed the pudding was devoid of sugar. They might as well have been eating a bowl of beige sadness. And the cakes? Let's just say they could double as doorstops. One bite, and you'd think you were trying to convince a cent block to turn into a soft, fluffy cloud.
"Next ti," Josephine mumbled, eyeing the remains like they were conspiracy theories waiting to happen, "let's just stick to takeout.”
After waiting for five minutes for Josephine to finish sipping her champagne, Elizabeth's hands trickled to her inner pocket. How she wanted to tell her friends about how she had brought sothing back from her dreams. She took a deep breath and muttered to Emily,
“I had just discovered—" began Elizabeth. But before she could even finish, Josephine clapped her hands, silencing the hall.
They were gradually elevated into midair by an invisible force; their chairs vanished, replaced by long lines of armchairs materializing out of thin air.
People plopped down onto the winged armchairs in soft crunches, fidgeting, anxiously awaiting the candidates to appear.
With a soft sigh that barely broke the silence of the dimly lit room, Penelope drew open the door, its hinges creaking softly as she stepped inside. The air was thick with the musty scent of aged parchnt and ink, mingling with the earthy aroma of dried herbs that adorned the shelves lining the walls.
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Flickering candlelight cast long shadows, creating an enchanting atmosphere, yet an undercurrent of unease tugged at her thoughts. Datura had ordered her to copy the book titled ‘The Silence of Warden’—a journal that bore the na of the very sorceress who had summoned her. Inside the room, a large, ornate wooden desk stood in the center, cluttered with quills and ink-pots.
Atop the desk lay the magical orb, its surface swirling with colors like a tempestuous rainbow, pulsing gently as if it were alive.
Penelope couldn't shake the feeling that this orb was more than just a tool; it felt like a conduit of Datura's own powerful magic. As she approached, she could see her own reflection distorted within the glassy surface, echoes of her uncertainty blending with the vibrant hues.
With a sigh drawn deep from her chest, she positioned the original journal under the orb and gathered her thoughts.
There was a peculiar design etched along the base of the orb—an intricate web of runes that seed to shimr in resonance to her intentions. She had watched Datura use it before; it was said that the orb could capture and replicate anything inscribed within its magical field.
Penelope hesitated, wondering again about Datura’s motive—why did a sorceress of such notoriety wish to sell her writings?
A lodious bell resonated from outside the Grand Hall, instantly captivating the attention of all present. The heavy oak door creaked open, revealing the first candidate, Lucius. Dressed impeccably in a tailored black tailcoat that accentuated his height and complented by a crisp white tie, he stepped forward with an air of confidence. As he made his entrance, he greeted the eager assembly with an enthusiastic wave, his smile reflecting the vibrant energy of the room.
The soft glow of the spotlights flickered upon him as he made a smooth exit backstage, leaving behind a palpable buzz of anticipation among the audience. Monts later, the door clicked open once more, revealing an enchanting young woman. Wearing breathtaking strapless gown that draped down her figure like a gentle waterfall, the fabric shimring softly under the lights. A delicate, sheer veil frad her face, Narcissus Teresa stole the spotlight. Her entrance ignited the crowd into rapturous applause, and rose petals cascaded down around her in a swirling dance.
Then ca Morris, his appearance marked by a striking violet tailcoat that contrasted beautifully with his polished black boots.
Elizabeth’s attention was imdiately drawn to him; she couldn’t help but notice his pale complexion and the subtle tremor in his legs as he navigated the dazzling lights surrounding him. His lips, brilliantly adorned in a striking black, could have made a powerful impression if only they had received the attention they deserved.
In an instant, he slipped behind a curtain, just as a triumphant trumpet blared through the hall, its echo startling Elizabeth and nearly causing her to drop her goblet in surprise. The front door banged open as a talented orchestra erged, filling the hall with enchanting lodies that wove a rich symphony, enveloping everyone in an embrace of musical euphoria.
Dancers soon burst onto the stage, their movents fluid and graceful, elevating the excitent to an exhilarating crescendo.
"That's not quite fair. Candidates should enter solo!" Elizabeth whispered, rubbing her forehead.
Emily gave her a stern look that made her shut up at once.
"JASMINE!!!" ca the thundering voices of the audience. The escorts lifted Datura into the air as they disappeared behind the veil. Emily bent over and whispered to Elizabeth,
“For heaven’s sake, shut up.”
Finally, Josephine walked in with a muscular man; his golden hair flowed over his shoulders, and his eyes flickered with dangerous light.
Elizabeth didn’t recognize the man at once, but she did recall having seen him once before, prior to her entrance into the institute.
However, she experienced a surge of anger as soon as this guy ca into view. Although Elizabeth found it hard to retrieve the mory, she felt assured that his presence could only herald chaos and tragedy.
Josephine announced publicly, her voice resonating from the podium.
"The election has prepared three tasks for the candidates to complete, the first task—" she unrolled the initial parchnt, "is to solve a riddle.”
With a decisive turn on her heels, Josephine drew back the heavy curtains, unveiling a magnificent proscenium that glimred under brilliant lights. Each candidate sat at their wooden desks, a quill poised delicately over a pristine sheet of parchnt, their expressions a mixture of hope and trepidation. Dazzling spotlights bathed them in a golden glow, pouring down a shower of glow, while the chandelier above dimd to create an air of anticipation.
“It’s subtle, yet it exists,” Josephine declared, her voice echoing through the hall. “It lies within us, weaving through our very nerves—a treasure that can also be deadly.”
A focused silence enveloped the room, all eyes drawn tightly to the contenders. Narcissus was the first to raise her quill, lowering her gaze in concentration as she hastily scribbled her answer, then slipped the parchnt into Josephine’s awaiting hands.
Lucius followed suit, his limbs trembling with nerves as he stared blankly into the crowd with palpable nervousness as cara flashes erupted around him, puncturing the stillness, capturing their evener award move.
Datura was the last to submit her answer, Panic faded from her face; on the contrary, her face split into a triumphant smile towards the crowd, allowing a smugly smirk directly toward Elizabeth.
As Josephine rattled off the answers of each candidate, they all sounded perfectly reasonable—until it was Datura's turn. She leaned in, confidence radiating like a disco ball at a sleepover, and announced with absolute seriousness,
“A kitten grows on a yawn!”
The room fell silent, the kind of silence you hear just before soone accidentally sets off a confetti cannon. Everyone processed the sheer absurdity like a dog trying to understand quantum physics.
Josephine couldn’t help herself; she erupted in laughter, picturing a drowsy kitten sprouting from the ground every ti soone yawned, like a bizarre hybrid of a plant and a pet.
“So that’s what they ant by ‘cat nap!’” she howled, tears streaming down her face. At this point, she was totally ready to start a kitten farm—“Forget cows, I’m milking purrs now!” The other candidates exchanged baffled glances.
One guy leaned over and whispered, “Wait, is she for real? Because if she is, I’m signing up for every yawning class available!”
Another one chuckled, “Do we get bonus cats if we take a nap? And can I cash them in for lattes at a cat café? I’d like a ‘owcha’ please!” Datura just smiled beatifically, totally unfazed, as if she’d just solved a Rubik's Cube by giving it a stern look.
“I knew it!” Josephine exclaid between giggles, “Next ti I yawn, I’m grabbing a leash! Who knew my bedti routine was actually a cat breeding program? Watch out, world—Kitty Montessori is opening soon! We’ll teach ‘em to purr on cue!”
Suddenly, one eager candidate interrupted, raising a hand, “Can I trade my kittens for a puppy? Asking for a friend who just yawned—which, I think ans he’s eligible for an entire litter!”
This sent the room into a riot of laughter, with everyone now plotting their futures as accidental cat cultivators. “Imagine the paperwork!” one candidate said, “I can just see it!"
Josephine raised her hands, paused to allow the crowd to have a good, hysterical laugh, and went on.
Elizabeth sniggered, her disbelief palpable.
“No way, Josephine, that can’t be right,” a voice sliced through the laughter, rich with challenge, as Carlos strode forward with purpose. The hall buzzed with murmurs, erupted in whispers as all heads turning to see what was going on.
“All the other answers are way too similar; it’s just too much of a coincidence,” he challenged, casting a contemptuous glance at Elizabeth.
“Carlos, this isn’t a negotiation,” Josephine replied, her tone firm.
"Or tomorrow, the newspaper will tell the world what your precious children," he sneered, a malevolent gleam in his eye as he focused on Elizabeth, "are up to.”
“How dare you!” Josephine retorted, her voice rose, her eyes blazing.
“Then perhaps I should just start writing again,” Carlos replied matter-of-factly, feigning innocence.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Josephine straightened, an air of defiance surrounding her. “We’ll address this later.”
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