Prologue

December, 1896

London, The Raleigh Academy for Young Ladies

Creak.

A scuffling, groaning moan whispered through out the manor, like the rustling leaves of willow trees outside. A thin band of brilliant yellow light, drifted through its maze of gloomy corridors, sweeping through the rooms like a hardly audible breeze, merely ruffling the hair of the manor’s occupants.

It travelled, faster than a slithering serpent into one particular room, bathed in the eerie glow of moonlight. The sparkle of the stars filtered through the gaps of window, visible through the loosely drawn drapes. The room was a large, circular one, showered in items of luxury and lavishly dressed in several four-poster beds ( each with a sleeping occupant), ornate gold trinkets, sheets of pure silk and oriental rug softer than lamb’s wool.

In one swift motion, the shears drawn around the four poster parted, and the sound slipped inside. There, under the warmth of the feather mattress, slept a form, with glorious chestnut waves windmilling out in wild directions, skin as pale as the sheets that encased most of her body.

In a swift and sudden swoop, the noise finally reached her ears, piercing into them, until her eyes, wide-set and deep-blue, flew open. Then the elusive auras of the night, ghostly, shimmering shapes danced before her glassy eyes, beckoning her, gently yanking the invisible strands attached to the top her head upward. With a gasping breath, the girl sat bolt up right in bed, amid the clutter of heavily crumpled cotton. The voice muttered a soothing spell in her ear.

“We call you, Cornelia Farwood, come with with us….”

In a trance-like state, the girl who was Cornelia, or known more commonly as Nell, extracted herself from her bed, only pausing to gather a woolly night-robe hanging precariously on one of the four wooden posts.

Under the spell of the creatures unseen, Nell was powerless, something the girl did not know when she was herself. Some of her headstrong nature surfaced, but only for a moment, because the creatures were quick to notice and deal with humans as Nell.

They had visited the gates of Raleigh Academy, disguised as nocturnal birds, their eyes peeled for the from of the girl…the girl their master had commanded them to fetch.

So, Nell was spirited away, through the grand oak doors of her room, and into the clammy chill of the adjoining corridor, past the portraits of unsmiling, seemingly lifeless people, down a narrow, spindly staircase, around the statue of worship and grace…. She followed blindly, her hand stretched out before her and her eyes closed, an uncharacteristically dopey smile playing her lips.

The sprits cannot be described by the human senses, at best they were wispy clouds of unnatural colour, faceless, odourless…almost as if they weren’t there at all. A select few could see them, a curse rather than a gift, for the spirits were forced to get rid of anyone that had the ‘third’ eye. Nell, were haunted by these fearsome figures in her frequent nightmares, but she spoke about it to no one. It was a time where the asylums were teeming with humans who possessed this supernatural force, this third eye…this curse.

The spirits dragged Nell through the vastness of the foyer, weaving through the pillars with structures of gargoyles mounted on their cylindrical faces. Nell’s feet grazed against the diamond pattern spinning out in an intricate web across the floor. Her arms fell limply at her sides, but her eyes refused to open as she and the hover of auras clouding in a blazing halo above her head. They entered an arched doorway, cleverly concealed, in the hulking shadows of the large coat rack, and hat-rack.

Immediately, Nell seemed to waken, her eyes snapped open as she leapt in fright, her gaze running over the contours of familiar shapes.

“N-not again….” she muttered feverishly, clutching her head and shaking it vigorously. It was the same room…and the same dream from the previous night. She stamped her foot, just to be certain, instantly feeling the searing pain and heat shooting through her leg….

Nell shivered; glancing around in fearing fascination. The room was large and seemingly never-ending, instead of a ceiling a black abyss hovered above her head. Torches lit up the narrow, but empty space. Like in her dream, Nell automatically fell on one knee, her head bowed. The sprits spiralled around her…bands of colour she could not name, but their motives hardly friendly. They seized the girl; this time for real, but their job was far from over.

“Empress,” Nell mumbled respectfully, daring to lift her head. She did not ask herself how she knew this, it was but a dream, a figment of her overly active imagination…something she was bound to wake up from, but why did all feel so scarily real?

Nell could feel the breaths of tense anticipation in the air, hear the swishing of cloak and she couldn’t deny not seeing the sight before her. A tall woman, dressed in a long and majestic cloak stood on the burning floor, steps away from Nell. She was clothed in black, her face shrouded in a dark netted material, but spirals of wild witchy green escaping through imprisonment of her hooded cloak. She clutched a wooden staff in one hand and a shabby book in the other.

“Rise,” the empress commanded imperiously, her voice, a high-pitched shriek. Nell, surprisingly felt herself resist, unlike her previous dreams, but was immediately tugged up the controlling auras.

“This is no longer one of the dreams, silly girl. If you don’t obey me, you will not wake.”

Nell glanced at the figure, trying to rearrange her features into a look of disdain.

“You have the third eye, do you not?” the empress inquired, with an impressive twirl of her staff.

“Yes, I posses the ability to see…auras.” Nell said as contemptuously as she could manage.

The empress screeched with laughter. “You assume you are special? An Etherealist? That talent will only bring you pain and probably, a cruel end to your own life.

You see when you’re an Etherealist, you must obey me. You must carry out certain tasks. Your life will never be the same again.”

A sharp intake of breath, indicated Nell’s emotions. She could almost feel the empress smile beneath her heavy cloak.

“Your first task is simple. Destroy the land of Nosh.” The empress’s voice filled with a savageness Nell wasn’t accustomed to hearing.

“Nosh-?” questioned Nell in confusion.

“Silence!” the creature barked, brandishing her staff threateningly at Nell.

“But you cannot possibly do it alone….” The empress’s voice began to falter, as her body began to tremble violently, even the brilliant colours of the auras began to blur. Nell could feel heat beneath her feet subside-it was evident the empress was running out of time.

“The book will help you….” A faint high voice whispered in her ear, as the room, the spirits and the strange green-haired witch dissolved into reality, replaced with rusty trunks and moth-eaten furniture draped in white cotton. This scene in turn was replaced with a comforting darkness, the softness of her pillow against her cheek. Nell eyes fluttered open, her heart beating violently. Her gaze travelled down her arms to her palms which were wrapped around a tattered, dusty book…holding it for dear life.

Nell gave another gasp. “That’s not possible….” She whispered, as recent events came flooding back.

The book remained in her hands.