Chapter 2

Claire, indeed, was the jewel of the Blackwood family, her beauty lauded, her charm celebrated, she moved through their world like a gilded princess, while Sarah, with her marred skin and haunted eyes, was the beast in the shadows, a constant, unwelcome reminder of something ugly the family preferred to ignore.

Josiah Blackwood, the old wolf, had long regarded Sarah with a cold, calculating gaze, he once told Ethan, "That girl of Agnes' s is an ill omen, a blight, if she were mine, I' d have drowned her at birth," his words a chilling echo of the family's ruthlessness.

Agnes' s initial "protection" of Sarah, keeping her alive when Josiah might have preferred otherwise, was not kindness, it was a twisted, long-term strategy, a way to continually torment Eleanor, Ethan' s wife, the woman Agnes secretly, viciously blamed for stealing Ethan' s primary affection decades ago.

Agnes savored Eleanor' s quiet anguish, her helpless glances towards Sarah, the daughter she could not claim, it was a perverse pleasure, a daily dose of revenge served cold, watching Eleanor suffer was almost as satisfying to Agnes as Claire' s ascent.

"She doesn't love you, you know," Agnes would whisper to Sarah during her "treatments," a silken, poisonous thread of words, "Eleanor, I mean, she pities you, perhaps, but love? No, that' s all for Claire, and you can' t tell her the truth, can you? The little binding I wove ensures your silence, you wretched, little secret." Agnes delighted in Sarah's presumed helplessness, her bottled rage.

"I will have what was denied to me," Agnes had once confided to a portrait of her own stern mother, her voice a low snarl, "through Claire, this family' s power, its name, its wealth, it will be mine, truly mine, they took my chance, I' ll take theirs, starting with Ethan' s precious bloodline."

Sarah, hearing these pronouncements, these confessions whispered in the dark, felt only a cold contempt, Agnes believed her magical bindings were strong, her secrets safe, she had no idea of the ancient, dormant power Sarah held, a power that could shatter Agnes' s petty enchantments like glass, a power that was patiently waiting.

What Agnes, or anyone in the Blackwood family, could never comprehend was the truth of Sarah' s endurance: her suffering was not just endured, it was a calculated sacrifice, a long, agonizing immersion in her enemy' s world, a strategy she had conceived in the lonely, pain-filled nights of her childhood, "Let them think me broken," she had vowed, "their arrogance will be their downfall."

One afternoon, as Sarah was scrubbing floors, Agnes watched her, a new, unsettling glint in her eye, Sarah had allowed a fraction more of her true self to show in her gaze, a fleeting spark of defiance, Agnes lunged, grabbing Sarah by the hair, "Still have some fight in you, do you, runt? Think you can fool me with those pathetic, downcast eyes?"

"Claire is your superior in every way," Agnes spat, yanking Sarah' s head back, forcing her to look at a nearby portrait of the beaming Claire, "you exist to serve her, to elevate her, remember that, always."

Agnes then smashed a cheap vase near Sarah' s hand, shards scattering, "A pity," Agnes said, her voice deceptively calm, "just like your mother' s hopes for you, clean it up, and then you will kneel and apologize to Claire' s portrait for your insolence." Sarah complied, the pain in her cut hand a dull throb against the inferno of her will.

Eleanor, witnessing this from the doorway, her face etched with renewed pain, knew direct intervention was futile, Agnes was Josiah' s favored child in her own twisted way, her cruelties often excused or ignored, especially when they served the family's perceived stability or Claire's advancement.

Josiah himself had made it clear years ago, after Eleanor had once tried to shield Sarah from a particularly vicious beating, "Your sentimentality is a weakness, Eleanor, Agnes understands the necessity of... discipline, that creature is her responsibility, do not interfere again, or you will find your own position here... less secure."

Eleanor tried a small kindness later, offering Sarah a hidden piece of bread and cheese, but Agnes appeared as if from nowhere, snatching it away, "Still trying to fatten the pig for a non-existent slaughter, Eleanor?" she sneered, "your compassion is as anemic as your influence here."

Agnes turned back to Sarah, who was now polishing silver, "And you, girl, focus on your tasks, Claire needs this silver gleaming for the pre-Gala dinner, her spiritual affinity, while strong, needs every advantage, especially with the Heartstone not yet in our possession, the energy of well-cared-for ancestral items helps ground her."

Suddenly, Agnes' s mood shifted, her eyes narrowing as she inspected Claire' s practice area for the Gala' s ceremonial rites, "This is not good enough!" she shrieked, her voice echoing, "Her energy patterns are... fluctuating! Eleanor, is this your doing? Your pathetic sympathy for that... thing," she gestured at Sarah, "is it distracting Claire? Your weakness is a contagion!"

Agnes advanced on Eleanor, her face a mask of fury, "If Claire falters at the Gala, if she is not named heir unequivocally, I will hold you personally responsible, Eleanor, your life here will become a living hell, far worse than it is now."

Eleanor, pushed to her limit, stood straighter, her voice trembling but firm, "Claire is progressing wonderfully, Agnes, she is a gifted young woman, perhaps if you spent less time tormenting Sarah and more time genuinely nurturing your own daughter, you would see that, your cruelty will have consequences, for all of us."

Agnes was momentarily silenced by Eleanor' s uncharacteristic defiance, her rage simmering, she turned her venomous gaze back to Sarah, then a slow, sinister smile spread across her face, a new, darker idea taking root, "Perhaps... perhaps you are right, Eleanor, perhaps Sarah can make a more... direct contribution to Claire' s success."

The undertone in Agnes' s voice was chilling, Eleanor felt a wave of nausea, "What are you planning, Agnes?" she whispered, but Agnes merely smiled, a predator' s grin, Eleanor, defeated, turned and left, her final, resigned words hanging in the air, "You will destroy this family, Agnes, with your hatred."

"She already helped destroy mine," Agnes muttered to the empty room after Eleanor departed, her eyes fixed on Sarah, then, with a sudden, violent motion, Agnes dragged Sarah towards the old, forbidden wing of the mansion, towards a disused ritual chamber, "The Whispering Peaks await, girl, and your unique spiritual signature."