Chapter 97.

Chapter 97.
Andria.
Bran.
Monday, 30th March. Next day…

I’m having a cup of coffee this beautiful morning and enjoying the beauty of the castle. The last days of winter are already here and I already smell the air of spring. I can’t wait to have the garden all functioning by spring. Reconstruction of the garden has already commenced and the work is going smoothly, as I gaze out the window. There’s much hammering and sawing in the middle of the garden.

Adrian is on a trip, which he claimed was very important. He even took Cassius along with him. Although Cassius and I still show this unease, whenever we're in the same room, but now it’s better. I hope we finally get past the awkwardness between us. 

I move away from the window and take a tour of the castle. A warning bell goes off in my head, as I recall the last time I toured the castle. When I was ten, I had toured this same down floor and had heard whispers. I shake my head and release an amused laugh at my childishness. I still remember the words I had heard that day. But I would want to believe It was all the whimsical thoughts of a child. 

However deep inside me, something warns me that those weren’t whimsical thoughts. I really heard voices that day in the castle. 

As I watch all the paintings and photos hanging on the wall, I try to distract myself from the fear that is gradually creeping into me. There’s this eeriness that suddenly accompanies the entire mood of the castle. And cold breaks out on my skin, causing me goose bumps. I try to shake off the feeling and fail miserably. I look at the coffee in my hand and decide to drop it on a nearby side table. Perhaps I should go upstairs to our room to watch TV or something. 

As I take a step forward, I hear a small gust of wind. Draught filters in. Even the drapes sway from the breeze. I gaze around, the feeling crawling in around me, disturbing. I listen for the sounds of the banging outside and the voices of the construction workers. Nothing. It’s all silence. It’s like all else has suddenly faded and I’m alone here.

Fear tingles my spine, like tiny bites.

Choosing to walk away from the entire scene, I take brisk steps in the direction of the stairs. I’ve only reached the bottom of the stairs, when I hear a whisper. I still. The sound all too familiar to a ten year old me, years ago. I stiffen, my legs quaking beneath me, as that familiar fear finds me. My throat suddenly closes and my heart rate picks up. My pupils dilate, as my senses heighten. 

My entire body stiffens and even my legs grow numb. The whispers continue and my palms grow clammy. I can’t move. My legs feel like lead, rooted to the spot. The whispers in the wind intensify and become clearer. 

‘Go to the library. Go to the library. There you would find the answers you seek.’

I hesitate and try to run away, but I’m unable to. It’s as if a powerful force, stronger than the arms of many men, takes hold of me and drags me in the direction of the library. My body consumed by the overwhelming force, I find myself in the library in no time. The force and the voices, lead me to an unfamiliar area in the library. 

In this area is an emerald green, velvet drape. It hangs from one end of the ceiling to the ground. Mysteriously, the drape is spread open, exposing a shelf lined with books. When one of the books is mysteriously pulled out of the shelf, the shelf opens inside, revealing an inner chamber. I’m pushed into the chamber, before the mysterious force lets go of me. 

Finally inside, I stare at what seems like a room, filled with captivating paintings with and books and documents. There are jewelries. And a lot of other precious artifacts. But in the center of the chamber is a large book, encased in a glass box. 
The air in the room is different. It’s filled with memories, which even speak in the whispers. I hear names inside the whispers, that I haven’t heard before. I hear Adrian’s voice in all the whispers. And other voices. They’re all speaking as one. 

I shut my ears tight with my hands, trying to stop the voices. Hot tears burn my eyes, at the intensity of the strange energy that surges in the room. And then my eyes are forcefully directed to a corner of the room. There’s a soft glowing light around a draped object. 

Mysteriously, the drape is lowered and I’m drawn to a large painting of two men and a woman. Both men flanking the beautiful woman at her sides. I stare in disbelief at the younger man in the painting, who is a replica of Adrian. Only that this Adrian is dressed in an outfit of an older era. An outfit similar to the outfit in the photo I saw in my school’s library.

The air of sophistication around them. The intensity of their gaze. I draw closer and I stare disbelievingly at the painting. The three people in the painting, all have a striking resemblance to Adrian. I’ve never seen any painting or photo of Adrian in the entire castle, since I’ve been here. 

This is the first time I’m seeing Adrian’s face and now it turns out it’s an Adrian look alike. I look around the painting, searching for a logical explanation. And I see a name plate at the bottom of the painting.

Skeptically, I lean into the name plate and I see the information that is written there. 

‘December 1924. Lord Bran(Dorian Trinidad) Lady Bran (Celia Trinidad) and Heir to Lord Bran; Lord Trinidad (Adrian Trinidad).’

I stand there, drained of all color.