'Do all these girls want to make this a tradition?' I mused as Rachel led me to lunch with her father and sister after spending the night with her.
At least, unlike Cecilia, Rachel hadn't insisted I address her father as "Father" while radiating enough audacity to light up a city. Small mercies, I supposed.
And, unlike Quinn, I found Alastor much easier to deal with.
The Creighton estate, though, was something else entirely. If the Slatemark Imperial Palace was the pinnacle of regal grandeur, this place was steeped in an almost otherworldly charm. The air itself seemed to hum with energy, as though the walls held whispers of centuries past.
We moved through the estate's intricate halls, each more striking than the last, until we arrived at the dining hall. Sunlight streamed through crystalline windows, casting refracted rainbows across polished surfaces. The effect was mesmerizing, like stepping into a realm of light and shadow carefully crafted to dazzle the senses.
