Chapter 4 Hysterical Blue

While the silhouette howled with laughter-wild, hysterical, echoing off the walls of the east wing-a figure watched.

Silent.

Cold.

Unseen.

Not even Lace nor the laughing creature sensed this presence. It simply observed. Then, without a word, it turned and leapt away, soundless and precise, like a phantom born of stillness.

---

Lace, on his own now, left the east wing.

He walked through the corridors of the north wing-a quieter, older part of the estate. Its halls were long and lined with doors, each marked by subtle symbols and locked silence. He kept walking until he reached one in particular.

The door was golden.

He stopped, exhaled, and knocked three times.

A voice responded-soft, but regal, and unmistakably in control.

"Coming."

He opened the door slowly, stepped in, and bowed.

"Good morning, Mother."

"Good morning, my little cub," she replied, a warm smile threading her voice. "What brings you here?"

He was just about to speak when she interrupted, tilting her head slightly.

"And what did you bring home?"

That froze him.

A flicker of shock, of fear, passed over his face. She had felt it-known it-without seeing a thing.

"I met her at the station," he said quietly.

"And you brought her home?" she asked, still composed.

"I don't know. Something came over me. She's... different. I felt it."

The woman stood.

She moved to him. He still bowed slightly, but she reached out and raised his chin with her fingers, gently but firmly.

She looked into his eyes.

"We don't like different," she said softly.

A pause. Her voice cooled.

"And not everything that's different... is like us."

Her hand dropped, and she returned to her chair.

"Come," she said, gesturing. "Sit with me."

He did. And they talked.

About the girl.

About her running away.

About her searching for something more.

Lace's mother listened, fingers steepled in thought. Then, to his surprise, she spoke of high school.

"You're still in school," she said. "Perhaps she should be too. After all, education is... important."

Lace blinked, surprised by the suggestion. He smiled, unsure whether she was serious-or just testing him. Still, he played along, nodding.

She waved her hand gently, dismissing him.

"Go now. I'll see you at dinner."

He stood, bowed again, and left the golden room.

---

Alone, the woman rose from her chair.

She walked slowly to the large mirror at the corner of the room, its frame carved from blackened wood and gold leaf. She looked into her own reflection-perfect, commanding.

Her sigh was soft.

Then she raised her hand, turning it slowly in front of her. She examined her nails-long, sharp, beautiful.

Like something forgotten.

Or restrained.

She smiled faintly to herself and whispered:

"It's been a while since I've had to use these."

And then, she chuckled.