Estate had stood in its present form for nigh a hundren and fifty of
years, though you couldn’t see the faintest hint of the massive
renovation that took place in the East Wing.
Death by fire, tis a cruel thing, and the mansion had witnessed
the death of many that long ago night.
before that, the history, tis shrouded.
Talk says twas an underground for convicted criminals, or maybe
twas persecuted religious heretics.
By some calculations, both were about one and the same.
Whispers of labyrinths filled with weapons and armory kept the
local lads attempting time and time again to penetrate the walls of the
to no avail. The Estate
refuses access. Doors remain
unmoving, though handles turned willingly enough under eager hands.
Windows shattered by flying rocks sealed themselves over before a
body could knock out the rest of the glass.
One local bragged he’d lost three of his fingers due to the
glass shearing through his flesh and bone.
If one could gain access, one might find the shriveled remains of
his appendages lying beneath the window casings.
the sightings on the grounds themselves that drew the most curious. And
that was a fair amount of ground to cover.
Some twenty five thousand acres, all of it belongin’ to the
Estate. Manicured lawns, lavish gardens, a Vineyard that boasted the
finest grapes your palate could dream of tasting, creating such wines
that rivaled most French and California Houses.
sightin’s were something the new residents tried hard to see for
themselves. Those folks
rarely were granted the visions they sought.
The locals, well they didn’t need reaffirmin’ of their
other-than-human neighbors. They
knew well enough, had always known, and perhaps always had seen.
Two legends vied for attention. Two women. Of such enduring power that the rumours were as rich and colorful as they’d been during the grandest days of the secluded town.
LeFey, and her advocate … Sari Faire.
No one could rightly say what Lacy might have been.
She was more than human, though, and dared to challenge even
darkest of nights creatures. Sari
Faire, perhaps drawn to the strange phenomena that Lacy presented,
appeared one golden-cast day at the
to the man, woman or child who hunted those grounds.
Twas said that Sari Faire wreaked great despair upon any who
knowingly assaulted her children that resided within the massive forests
that bordered the Estate. Hunters
disappeared; youths returned home with festering wounds created by their
own crude weapons. When the
lads recited tales of blue lights that spun with dervish intent and
eyes, nods of
understanding would be forthcoming.
The lesson, well taught, would prevent the wee ones from becoming
a missing hunter in the future.
witches, demons and dark angels. And
the darkest creature of all. The
drinker of human blood, and the taker of innocent souls.
The word, always whispered in hushed tones, could still send
shivers racing down the spine of all folk.
new residents scoffed, even after living within this environment most of
their lives. The locals knew
and believed. Newcomers and
tourists were amused and delighted, taking their instant pictures of the
lovely grounds and gardens. They
adored the quaintness, and the hint of menace from the looming Estate.
The tiny, soft thrill of danger enhanced their experience.
Ye wouldn’t be catchin’ them there after dark, yet they did
not truly believe. Not much,
believed. And this was the
first time in my life I had set foot in the town of
goal was simple - to pierce the mists of time ... to find the legend