Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Her intense gaze seemed to bore right through the photograph as if she could see into my very soul. Flipping the picture, I saw two names written in elegant cursive: Clarice. Melanie. I traced my fingers over the names, and a sudden recognition washed over me. Nicolette had mentioned them when we went into town. These were Alexander's wives, one of whom had met a cruel fate according to Nicolette's, and his own, admission.
I scrutinized the photograph once more. My eyes were immediately drawn to their outfits - a perfect representation of the Isle's distinct fashion, blending modesty with allure. Their pose exuded a sense of familiarity, their shoulders barely touching as they smiled at the camera. It was as if they shared a close friendship or a deeper understanding between them. The thought unsettled me more than I cared to admit. Could Alexander have been involved with both of these women at the same time?
The idea seemed incongruous with the man I was beginning to know. For all his complexities, Alexander did not strike me as someone who would entertain such an arrangement. His faith and ideologies, as well as his possessiveness and intense focus, all pointed toward a man who valued exclusivity in his relationships. Still, I couldn't help but wonder about the intricate dynamics between these three individuals.
Was there a deep-rooted story of rivalry or was it simply an agreeable arrangement? The discovery of these photographs brought forth a tidal wave of new questions, each one crashing upon me with overwhelming force. There were so many inquiries flooding my mind that I feared being consumed by them. My growing curiosity could not be suppressed—and not just concerning these women. I wanted to unravel the mystery behind the enigmatic man who had claimed me so completely. It was easier said than done. I carefully returned the photographs to their rightful place, keeping one of Clarice and Melanie for myself. These women had once been an integral part of Alexander's life, and now both were gone.
One was dead from his own hands.
The other was somewhere on the Isle.
I held the faded photograph of Melanie and Clarice tenderly in my hands as I slowly made my way up the stairs. Lost in my thoughts, I wandered into the quiet kitchen to pour myself a glass of cool water. Unbeknownst to me, Verity had silently entered the room and stood beside me like a ghost, her presence barely noticeable.
"Can I get you anything?" she asked in an almost ethereal voice.
My heart jumped at the sudden sound. I turned to find her poised with a graceful readiness to serve. The lessons from Nicolette and Esther flashed through my mind, reminding me to be polite.
"Just some water, please," I managed to say.
Her head bobbed once in understanding before she glided over to the fridge and filled a glass with ice and water. Her movements were smooth and practiced, almost ritualistic. For a brief moment, I found myself wondering about her story and what secrets may be hidden beneath her veil.
"Thank you," I murmured gratefully, taking the glass offered to me. A chilled, refreshing sensation flooded my mouth and throat as I drank, providing a small respite from the overwhelming thoughts swirling in my mind. Verity remained close, her unwavering presence an odd source of comfort. After a moment, I decided.
"I'm going to the library," I announced, hoping she would join me. Her companionship was something I craved at that moment, more than any assistance she could offer.
There was a fleeting pause in Verity's demeanor, betraying her surprise at my invitation. "If it pleases you, it will please me as well," she replied softly. With a smile, I beckoned for her to follow, and we made our way upstairs. We entered the library, and I was enveloped by its familiar grandeur.
My eyes immediately sought out the sacred Impío doctrine, its heavy tome beckoning to me with both intimidation and fascination. I unlocked its chains, recalling the location of the key that Esther had shown me what felt like a lifetime ago. Settling onto the plush sofa, I placed the photograph of Melanie and Clarice on the side table, a silent witness to my quest for understanding. As I gingerly opened the tome, its pages creaked with the weight of history and secrets.
Verity's presence was a quiet comfort as she took a seat adjacent to me. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.
I noticed her gaze, veiled though it was, lingering on the photograph.
"I'm not sure," I admitted, my fingers tracing the ancient pages. "I'm looking for... answers. About everything," I gestured vaguely at the book and then at the photograph.
Honestly, this was a wild guess and a case of grasping at straws, but within these pages maybe was something that would help me. I started with the first passage that I was able to read. The Impío faith was a topic entirely woven through the lives of its followers like a binding thread. There were many roles and duties assigned, each with a clear place in the dark system of control. The Electi—like me—were at the center of it all, chosen women whose purpose ran deeper than I’d first realized. Further into the book, the passages grew more fragmented, as if certain parts were purposely concealed. Some of the text was written in another language.