The Bewitched Soul 26 The Glass Pebbles

"One of a kind," Gerard spoke nonchalantly.

"Rowena was a warlock, highest on ranks" he continued.

"Now you know how capable your mother was, Alexander" he stopped, as he walked towards the wine shelf.

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Both spent time, discussing the main event which was about to take place the next month.

The council comprises of all the four provinces, conducting meetings for the smooth functioning and maintaining peace between them. Lately, the head of the vampire army found a strange golden box with many gla.s.s pebbles inside. This created many speculations of a black witch who might have entered the Land of Ostbarrow. Luckily, Alexander got a chance to discuss this with Lord Gerard.

"About the box found in one of the towns in Brookville, do you have any idea?" Alexander asked as he sipped from the gla.s.s of red wine.

"Those are spirit stones. One can contain another's soul in it," Gerard continued.

"As per records, those pebbles were destroyed long back. Surprised to know that it still exists. One can easily fall into the trap of it, especially humans. Let's see what the council has to do with it. The witch army is searching for the missing black with. I shall take all necessary actions." Gerard a.s.sured him.

"Can they make those pebbles this easily?" Alexander thought for a while before speaking.

"This is not the work of a single person. Someone did lend a helping hand. And it has to be one who has a higher rank than those black witches." Gerard spoke and his eyebrows furrowed, forming deep fine wrinkles on his forehead.

"A white witch?" Alexander spoke, his voice was calm.

"Maybe," Gerard didn't hold back to show his disappointment.

"The Dragon King's...o...b..culum might be the only way to find out the traitor. Anyways, the council will decide. Didn't you say you wanted to visit the palace gallery?" Gerard smiled.

"Yes, can we go now?" Alexander smiled as he stood up, carefully placing the wine gla.s.s.

The art gallery had many collections, some were about a century old, preserved carefully. Beautifully painted, they were a delight to the eyes. After seeing the masterpieces, they headed out to their respective rooms. As they were walking through the corridor, Gerard stopped.

"Alexander, to your left." Gerard gestured him to take a left turn.

"Yes? I thought we were going to our rooms," Alexander was confused.

"This will take few minutes," Gerard carefully opened the door.

"Get in," he asked him to get in.

It was a huge L-shaped room. A golden chandelier was hanging in the middle. The bed was neatly done. The huge mirror in front of the bed was stainless. It looked like somebody still used the room.

"Whose room is it?" Alexander asked curiously.

"Lady Rowena's," Gerard smiled.

Alexander stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened in disbelieve.

"Mother's...?" he couldn't speak anymore.

"This used to be Rowena's room. It still is. This room gets cleaned once in every two days," Gerard spoke as he kept walking.

"Come here, this way" Gerard motioned his hand.

It was a small isolated part of the room, where a huge board covered with a white sheet.

Gerard carefully removed the sheet, and what Alexander saw was a complete shock to him.

"Father?" Alexander looked at the painting in front of him.

"Lord Randolph... your father," Gerard smiled as he placed the sheet on the table beside him.

"The masterpieces which you saw in the art gallery, half of them were Rowena's. She was an artist too. She was good in every field, the reason why people still remember the great lady," Gerard continued.

"This was a painting which took her over a month, still incomplete."

Alexander couldn't help but smile while tracing the painting. It's been several years now, this painting reminded him how beautiful his father was.

"It's been years, this exactly looks like him." Alexander kept smiling looking carefully at the painting.

A child no matter how strong he grows up to be would always yearn for his parents. He, being the most powerful king, looked helpless and restless. One's past may not be always happy or worthy to be remembered. Memories are the keys to one's past, be it a tragic or a happy past.

"You should've come earlier, Alexander." Gerard looked at the sculpted side view of Alexander.

"The painting was securely locked inside my father's wardrobe. It was too late when I found out." Alexander took a deep breath.

Staying there for a while, both returned to their respective rooms for the night. Alexander had just entered his room when he heard the knocks.

"Come in, Julius" Alexander ordered.

Julius smiled as he entered,

"Master, do you need anything?" he bowed.

"Nothing. More two days to go, Julius" Alexander spoke casually.