d_square | Magical Aelina

The afternoon sun hung heavy and golden over the gardens, casting long, skeletal shadows through the trellises of climbing roses. Despite the warmth, the air in the private grove felt brittle.

Duchess Ebrada walked slowly, her skirt whispering against the stone path. Beside her stood Aelina, a woman whose presence in the castle was as controversial as the omens she interpreted. Perched upon Aelina’s leather-clad forearm was a Great Horned Owl, its amber eyes unblinking, its talons occasionally shifting with a soft clack.

" Earl’s temper has reached a fever pitch, Aelina," Ebrada said, her voice barely a breath. "He calls your counsel 'village superstitions' and 'poison in my ear.' He wants you gone from the realm."

Aelina did not look at the Duchess. She watched the owl. "The Duke fears what he cannot command, My Lady. He thinks the future is a beast he can tame with a sword. It is not."

Suddenly, the owl let out a sharp, clicking sound. Aelina stiffened. From the direction of the servants' quarters, a low, mournful sound drifted through the air—a dog howling, long and jagged. "Listen," Aelina whispered. Ebrada shivered. "It’s just a hound at the gate."

"A dog howling in a house of stone is a bell tolling in the dark," Aelina countered, her voice dropping to a gravelly register. "When the hound cries without cause within the realm, the air thickens with the scent of the shroud. Someone in the realm will soon fall to the sweating sickness, or the cold sleep from which none wake." The Duchess paled, clutching her pearls. "Which one, Aelina? Who is marked?"

Aelina opened her mouth to answer, but the words died in her throat. Her eyes, usually sharp and penetrating, suddenly glazed over. In the theater of her mind, a vision began to stitch itself together: she saw a man and woman that looked like two drawings flying. She saw a face—a face that looked familar—but it was obscured by a heavy, white mask setting on top of the woman’s head. The words Burning Man flashed across her eyes.

The images were fractured, like a mirror shattered by a stone. It was incomplete. To speak now would be to offer a half-truth, and in the Duke’s court, a half-truth was a death sentence. "Aelina?" Ebrada reached out, her hand trembling. "What do you see?"

Aelina blinked, the color returning to her face as the vision receded into the back of her mind like a retreating tide. She adjusted the owl on her arm and looked toward the high towers of the keep.

"The omen of the dog is clear enough for today, My Lady," Aelina said, her voice now flat and guarded. "As for the rest... the mists have not yet parted. I must gather more threads before the tapestry is ready for your eyes."

As Aelina retreated into the shadows of the shrubbery, the heavy thud of boots on stone signaled a new arrival. Duke Earl emerged from the arched gateway, his face a mask of controlled fury.

"Still consulting the bird-woman, Ebrada?" he boomed, his voice echoing off the garden walls. "I thought I made my wishes clear." "She provides me comfort, Earl," the Duchess replied, trying to steady her breathing.

"Comfort? She provides you with delusions," Earl snapped, closing the distance between them. "You are the Duchess of this realm, yet you behave like a frightened peasant. Think of the example you set! Our children watch you, Ebrada. They see their mother whispering in corners with a witch."

He leaned in closer, his shadow engulfing her. "Someday, one of our sons will sit upon my throne and rule this kingdom. How can he lead with a clear mind and a heavy hand if he is raised on a diet of omens and ghost stories? A ruler must trust in steel and law, not the howling of dogs and the flight of owls. Do not poison the bloodline with this madness." He turned on his heel, leaving Ebrada alone with the echo of his footsteps and the terrifying weight of Aelina's silence.

Nearby, crouched behind a thicket of manicured boxwood, Silas the head gardener remained perfectly still. His pruning shears were forgotten in the dirt. Silas had lived in the castle long enough to know that secrets were the most valuable currency in the realm, and he was an expert trader.

By the time the sun had dipped below the castle battlements, Silas had already visited the kitchens and the stables. Like a stone thrown into a pond, the news of the Duke’s fury rippled outward. By nightfall, the gossip had slipped through the postern gate and into the local tavern. Among the peasants, the whispers grew: the Duke was at odds with the Duchess, and the "Witch of Omens" had seen a death in the stars that the master of the house was too proud to acknowledge. The air in the village felt as charged as the air in the garden, as everyone waited for the dog to howl once more. Ebrada decided to cast out all dogs in the realm to increase the chance of no more howling.

Source- Family Photo

The little sister Izzy and her son Lee took this opportunity to make fun of the duchess.

Source- Family Photo