12/15/2024  Shadows at Everthorn Christian Marquis stood in the grand hall of Everthorn Manor, the flickering light of the chandelier casting elongated shadows across the marble floor. He leaned against the edge of the antique desk, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his piercing blue eyes betrayed his ever-watchful nature. The room was quiet, save for the soft crackling of the fireplace and the occasional rustle of paper as Christian flipped through a ledger. Then, it came—a subtle shift in the air, as if the shadows themselves had inhaled. Christian straightened immediately, his senses sharpened. A chill crawled up his spine, though he masked it well. He set the ledger down with deliberate precision, his fingers lingering on its worn edges. The shadows in the room seemed to ripple, pooling unnaturally in the corners and along the edges of the walls. Christian didn’t need to turn to know who it was. He’d felt this signature before—a faint pull at the edges of his awareness, like the tendrils of an unwelcome memory resurfacing. “Julian,” Christian muttered under his breath, his tone laced with equal parts annoyance and expectation. Almost on cue, the room dimmed slightly, as though the very presence of light were reluctant to remain. From the deepest shadows near the archway, a figure emerged, his movements fluid and unhurried. Julian Thorne stepped into view, his sharp features illuminated briefly by the firelight, his dark eyes gleaming with faint amusement. “Christian,” Julian greeted, his voice smooth and rich, carrying that ever-present air of nonchalance. “It’s been too long.” Christian’s jaw tightened as he folded his arms across his chest. “Not long enough.” Julian smirked, taking a few more steps into the room. He was dressed impeccably, as always, a long dark coat brushing the floor as he moved. The firelight caught the faint sheen of the silver clasp at his collar, a subtle nod to his sharp sense of style. “Still on edge, I see,” Julian remarked, his gaze flickering briefly to the shadows gathering near Christian’s feet. “Your paranoia might give you wrinkles, cousin.” Christian didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he stood tall, his posture commanding. “What are you doing here, Julian? You’ve made it clear you prefer to keep your distance.” Julian shrugged, a faint glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Perhaps I thought it time to check on the family. Or perhaps,” he added, his voice dropping an octave, “I just wanted to see if you’ve finally grown comfortable sharing the shadows with me.” Christian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable. “I don’t share.” Julian’s smirk widened. “So I’ve heard.” The tension between them was palpable, an invisible line drawn in the space that separated them. The shadows around Julian swirled faintly, as though alive, while Christian stood like an immovable force, his gaze locked on his cousin. Dorian’s voice echoed suddenly from the hallway, breaking the charged silence. “Oh, great. You two are at it already.” The youngest Marquis sibling appeared in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled, as though he’d just stepped off a midnight ride with Balios. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Can’t we go one evening without the ominous brooding?” Christian glanced at Dorian, his sharp features softening slightly, but his tone remained firm. “Julian’s presence is cause enough.” Dorian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sure it is. But maybe, just maybe, you could try not to look like you’re plotting his demise.” Julian chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the dynamic. “Ah, Dorian. Always the peacemaker.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter me, Julian. It’s not you I’m trying to save—it’s Christian from himself.” Julian’s gaze flicked back to Christian, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Careful, cousin. It seems your siblings are starting to notice.” Christian’s shoulders stiffened, but he said nothing, the flickering firelight casting his stoic silhouette in sharp relief. As the Marquis brothers exchanged a tense glance, the shadows continued their silent dance, a foreboding reminder of the rivalry that simmered just beneath the surface. 08: PM 0 Comments  (Add Comment)  | 0 Kudos

12/02/2024  The Marquis Family Backstory - The truth about our parents Christian Marquis stands in the great hall of the family’s ancestral estate, the moment's weight palpable in the air. A small audience of trusted confidants and family members sits before him, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows against the ornate walls. He exhales deeply, his expression a mixture of determination and vulnerability as he steps forward. "I’ve kept this inside for too long," Christian begins, his voice steady but heavy with emotion. "For years, I told myself it was to protect you. You wouldn’t feel its weight like I do if you didn't know the full truth. But I see now that keeping it from you hasn’t spared anyone—it’s only isolated us from each other and them." He pauses, glancing at his siblings—Dorian, leaning back with a guarded expression but listening intently, and Cressida, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. His gaze softens briefly before returning to the audience. "You deserve to know who they were," he continues, his voice firm now. "And you deserve to know what happened. Because their story isn’t just ours to carry—it’s all of ours. It’s our history. Our legacy." Christian takes a slow breath, gathering his thoughts. "Our parents, Eleanor and Victor Marquis were remarkable. They were more than just witches—leaders, protectors, and dreamers. They built this family’s foundation brick by brick, spell by spell, with the vision of a future where we could thrive without fear. But their strength also made them targets." He begins to pace slightly, his hands clasped behind his back. "The Order of Noctis—some of you might have heard whispers of their name—was a coven obsessed with power, with control. They believed that through magic, they could dominate the natural and supernatural worlds alike. And what they wanted more than anything was our family’s grimoire." Christian stops, turning to face the audience fully, his expression darkening. "The grimoire wasn’t just a book. It was a living repository of magic—dangerous, corrupting magic. It had been passed down through our bloodline for centuries, and our parents swore to keep it hidden, to ensure its power could never fall into the wrong hands. That promise put them directly in the Order’s crosshairs." He takes a step closer, his voice lowering, compelling everyone to lean in. "I was twelve the night they came for us. A blood moon hung in the sky—a sign, we later learned, that the Order had been waiting for. They attacked without warning. The estate was engulfed in chaos, spells flying, walls shaking, shadows twisting with unholy magic." Christian’s jaw tightens, and he swallows hard before continuing. "Our parents didn’t hesitate. They acted with the kind of clarity and courage I’ve spent my whole life trying to live up to. They cast a spell—one of the most powerful spells I’ve ever witnessed—that bound the grimoire to us, to their children. It ensured that no one could ever open it unless we willed it together. And then..." His voice falters, but he steadies himself. "Then, they made the ultimate sacrifice." "They fought the Order with everything they had, knowing they couldn’t win. And when it became clear there was no other way, they channeled their life force into one final spell—a ward so strong it obliterated the attackers and consumed them in the process." His voice cracks slightly, and he looks away for a moment, regaining his composure. "When it was over, the house was in ruins. They were gone. There wasn’t even a body to bury—just echoes of their magic lingering in the air and a silence so heavy it felt like it would crush us." Christian’s gaze sweeps across the audience, his expression raw but resolute. "For years, I’ve carried that night with me. I remember every detail, every sound, every smell. And I’ve carried the guilt, too—the guilt of surviving when they didn’t, of not being able to save them, of not telling you the truth sooner." He steps back, his voice softening. "But their sacrifice wasn’t just for me, or Dorian, or Cressida. It was for all of us. For this family, for this legacy. They gave their lives so we could live. So we could carry on, not just surviving but thriving. And that’s why we can’t let their story be forgotten. Why we can’t let fear or secrets divide us any longer." Christian straightens, his voice gaining strength. "Our parents were heroes, not because they were perfect, but because they were willing to give everything to protect what mattered most. And now, it’s up to us to honor that. To stand together, to protect each other, and to ensure that their sacrifice wasn’t in vain." He looks directly at Chloe now, his voice soft but resolute. "That’s the truth, all of it. And I hope you understand why I’ve kept it for so long. But now, it’s time you carry it with me. With us." The room falls silent, the weight of his words settling over everyone like a heavy but necessary mantle. Christian steps back, his shoulders squared, as if unburdened for the first time in years. 11: PM 0 Comments  (Add Comment)  | 0 Kudos

12/02/2024  Welcome to Everthorn Manor Everthorn Manor is a magnificent testament to elegance and mystery, its towering spires piercing the misty twilight as the Marquis family gathers to welcome their guests. The grand oak doors swing open with a deliberate creak, revealing the radiant figure of Cressida Marquis. Her golden hair cascades over her shoulders, and her piercing blue eyes hold an inviting yet enigmatic gaze. Dressed in a sophisticated gown that reflects her stature as mistress of the estate, she steps forward with an air of command and warmth. To her right stands Christian Marquis, tall and impeccably dressed, exuding quiet authority. His deep-set eyes and chiseled features reflect both wisdom and the weight of responsibility. He offers a polite nod, his posture composed and reserved, embodying his role as the steady hand of the family. On Cressida’s left is Dorian Marquis. His wavy dark hair and mischievous smile contrast his brother's solemn demeanor. His relaxed stance and the twinkle in his eye suggest a light-hearted charm that puts guests at ease. Despite his casual demeanor, his sharp wit and perceptiveness are ever-present. A little further back, leaning against the intricately carved railing of the grand staircase, is Chloe Marquis, the youngest of the group. Her cropped blonde hair is slightly messy, and her attire, though elegant, carries a modern edge that sets her apart. With an almost imperceptible smirk, she observes the guests as they enter, her keen gaze betraying her rebellious nature and unspoken curiosity. Cressida steps forward, her voice smooth and commanding, echoing through the grand foyer. "Welcome to Everthorn Manor," she begins, her tone warm and formal. We are honored by your presence and hope you find solace and intrigue within these walls." Christian bows politely, adding, "Indeed. Please make yourselves at home. The manor has much to offer those seeking knowledge, beauty, or adventure." Dorian grins and spreads his arms wide. "And don’t forget to explore the wine cellar. Some of the bottles down there are as old as this place—and nearly as full of secrets." Chloe chuckles softly, shaking her head before finally speaking up. "Just try not to get lost. This place can be... disorienting for newcomers." 04: PM 0 Comments  (Add Comment)  | 0 Kudos

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