Chapter 129: A New Path
Thelma Zane’s POV
Our investigation into the Eye of Insight continued with unwavering determination. My father had sent an advanced team to the ruins of the witch clan in the Rocky Mountains. This was not a mission to be taken lightly–any place associated with the sealing of demons required meticulous preparation and thorough reconnaissance. Gathering sufficient information was imperative before we could proceed further.
As summer break began, I split my time between training and accompanying Dorothy. Yet, amidst these duties, a new challenge arose that I hadn’t anticipated my social inadequacy.
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The farewell luncheon for the southern Duke had exposed just how uncomfortable I felt in aristocratic settings. I had stumbled through conversations, visibly out of place among my peers. My father had remained silent about the matter, but my mother had been far less forgiving.
“This is unbecoming of a princess,” she chided gently but firmly. “Perhaps a few lessons from the tea–room staff might help refine your manners.
Π
My mother rarely voiced such criticisms, which made her words all the more striking. I realized then how careless I had been in neglecting this aspect of my upbringing. Though the elaborate formalities of social etiquette felt stifling, I understood their importance and resolved to improve.
To aid me in this endeavor, my mother introduced me to two “social companions.” It was clear this was a sophisticated term for what were essentially personal attendants. Their role
was to accompany me in my lessons and evaluate my progress in real–life social interactions
Being under constant scrutiny was far from enjoyable, but I couldn’t bring myself to resent these girls. Both Emma and Jordin came from noble backgrounds but carried none of the rigid airs that characterized Carolyn. In private, they were as relaxed and candid as my childhood friends, Mara and Avril.
“I’m so done with these ridiculous rules,” Emma grumbled one afternoon when the etiquette teacher was absent. With exaggerated defiance, she bit into a piece of chocolate, her expression far removed from the grace expected of a lady. “Whoever invented social etiquette should get an award for ‘Most Torturous Innovations.“”
Emma, the youngest granddaughter of an earl, was a natural rebel. Her unruly behavior had prompted her mother to send her to the palace, hoping the refined environment would. temper her ways.
Jordin, pretending to be serious, nodded in agreement.
She was my age, but her life story was far from ordinary. The daughter of heroes who had
distinguished themselves in the Wolf–Witch War, Jordin had inherited the title of Countess of Mirror Lake at an early age after both her parents succumbed to injuries sustained during the war. Without their guidance, she had grown up largely neglected by her extended family, her wild spirit left unchecked.
Despite their unpolished manners, Emma and Jordin had quickly won me over. I introduced them to Dorothy, and they got along splendidly. While I noticed their initial curiosity about Dorothy’s unusual eyes, they refrained from asking any intrusive questions, respecting her privacy.
I
The three of them became fast friends, so much so that I sometimes felt a GoP
Their spirited discussions often veered into topics like philosophy–subjects I could barely grasp. As I sat quietly, watching them debate with fervor, I couldn’t help but wonder, *Why am I even here?*
Still, life maintained a semblance of peace for a time.
By the end of July, that peace was interrupted when my father summoned Dorothy and me to his study with news that promised to change the course of our efforts.
“The advance team has located the ruins of the witch clan,” he began. “The werewolf grandmaster who accompanied them has conducted a thorough investigation and confirmed there is no immediate danger. It appears the witches who lived there evacuated in haste, leaving no defensive sorcery in place.”
This revelation aligned with the legends surrounding the area. The witches had supposedly fled in an emergency after sealing the demon and the boy, leaving their stronghold behind in disarray.
Dorothy and I, however, were more concerned with the primary objective of the mission.
“What about the demon’s seal?” we asked in unison. “Have they identified its location? Has it shown signs of weakening? Is the pine forest concealing it still intact? Could the demon’s power have begun to seep into the surrounding area?”
The demon’s seal was the crux of our mission. Its integrity would determine whether we could proceed with further exploration. If the seal was compromised, all subsequent plans would be rendered moot.
My father shook his head gravely. “Unfortunately, the werewolf grandmasters have not been able to pinpoint the seal’s exact location. While they can sense the presence of a malevolent force intertwined with magical energy, certain factors are interfering with their ability to make a definitive judgment.”
“What do they propose we do?” I asked, already sensing that the answer would be far from straightforward.
“They have a suggestion,” my father admitted reluctantly, “but I don’t agree with it.”
Chupper 129 A New Patli
Curiosity piqued, Dorothy and I leaned forward as he handed us the advance party’s report.
Master Mary, a renowned expert among the werewolves, had included her analysis at the end of the document. She concluded that neither a werewolf grandmaster nor any witch or wizard would be able to locate the seal. The reason lay in the nature of the magic used–according to her, the witch responsible for the seal was the daughter of Mullwica, a figure known for her extraordinary powers. It was likely that she had employed the Eye of Insight or a similar prophetic ability to conceal the seal.
Master Mary’s unsettling conclusion was clear: only someone possessing the same prophetic power could unravel the layers of magical fog concealing the seal’s location. That person was Dorothy.
Dorothy, however, lacked the physical resilience of a seasoned warrior or the extensive experience of a werewolf grandmaster. Sending her to the Rocky Mountains would be an immense risk.
The dangers were not purely physical. Prophetic abilities, as we had seen with Adele, had a seductive and corrupting influence. They could twist even the strongest minds. While much of Adele’s madness had been self–inflicted, it served as a stark warning. Dorothy’s mental defenses were not nearly as fortified, and exposing her to such forces was an unacceptable gamble.
It was evident that my father had considered these risks carefully, which is why he firmly opposed Master Mary’s suggestion.
Dorothy and I exchanged uneasy glances. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but one thing was clear: this journey would test us in ways we could scarcely imagine.
