Court of the Cursed

Morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the dining hall, casting long, soft beams across the table where Mathew sat. The untouched breakfast before him went cold as he stared into the distance, his mind churning with questions he couldn't answer.

Alden, ever the vigilant butler, moved about with quiet efficiency, refilling Mathew's tea and straightening the room. The clink of porcelain as Alden set the teapot down seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness.

"You're quieter than usual, sir," Alden remarked, folding his hands behind his back.

Mathew glanced at him, his sharp blue eyes shadowed with thought. "There's something odd, Alden. Something I need to ask."

Alden tilted his head slightly, his expression calm but curious. "Of course, sir."

Mathew shifted in his chair, hesitating for a moment before speaking. "Have you ever noticed… marks on my back? Scars, maybe?"

Alden's brow furrowed. "Marks? No, sir. Why do you ask?"

Mathew let out a low sigh, running a hand through his dark hair. "They're there. Two of them, just below my shoulders. They look like scars, but they feel ancient, as if they've always been there."

Alden's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I've seen you grow up, sir, from a boy to the man you are now. If you'd had scars like that, I'd have noticed. But I can't recall anything of the sort."

Mathew leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I don't think they're new. I think they've been hidden—by something, or someone."

Alden's gaze grew distant, his brow knitting in concentration. "Now that you mention it… there was someone. A woman. Years ago."

Mathew straightened. "Who?"

"Her name was Isabel," Alden said slowly, as if piecing together fragments of a long-forgotten memory. "She was a performer at the local carnival. A magician, or so she claimed. She was… peculiar. Always seemed to know more than she let on."

Mathew raised an eyebrow. "A carnival magician? You think she could help me?"

Alden hesitated, then nodded. "She wasn't just a magician, sir. She had knowledge of the arcane, or at least, she gave that impression. She might know something about your scars."

Mathew frowned, his skepticism clear. "A carnival trickster hardly seems the type to unravel this kind of mystery."

"I understand your doubt," Alden said. "But Isabel wasn't ordinary. I can't explain it, but there was something about her. Something… unsettling."

Mathew studied his butler carefully. "Do you trust her?"

Alden paused, considering the question. "I wouldn't say I trusted her, sir. But I believed she knew things others didn't. If anyone can provide insight, it might be her."

Mathew sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Alright. If you think she's worth talking to, I'll find her."

Alden's expression lightened slightly, though a flicker of unease lingered in his eyes. "Just… be careful, sir. Isabel's world is not one we're meant to tread lightly in."

---

The evening sun hung low in the sky as Mathew stepped out of the mansion, the golden light struggling to pierce through a thick layer of clouds. The streets of London stretched out before him, alive with their usual mix of life and decay.

He walked briskly, his long coat trailing behind him as his shoes clicked against the cobblestones. The city, with all its contrasts, felt like a reflection of his own life—grand and imposing on the surface, but rife with shadows underneath.

As he passed bustling marketplaces and quiet alleys, he couldn't help but notice the faces of those around him. Some hurried with purpose, others lingered in their misery. It was a city he had dedicated his life to judging, yet it always seemed to slip through his grasp, remaining as chaotic as ever.

---

When he reached the carnival grounds, the atmosphere shifted. The vibrant colors and lively sounds he expected were absent. The once-bright banners now hung limp, faded and worn. The usual crowd of laughter and chatter was replaced by an eerie silence.

Mathew's steps slowed as he crossed the threshold. The air was heavier here, charged with an energy that prickled against his skin.

The carnival appeared deserted, its attractions standing like relics of a forgotten time. A creaking carousel spun slowly, its faded horses bobbing up and down to the faint, distorted sound of a tune carried on the wind.

"Isabel?" Mathew called out, his voice firm.

No response came, only the low groan of the wind through the skeletal frame of a nearby Ferris wheel.

He took another step forward, his senses on high alert. The shadows seemed to stretch and writhe, curling around him like tendrils.

Something was wrong.

Mathew turned, intending to leave, but the path he had taken was gone. The entrance had disappeared, replaced by an unbroken expanse of darkness.

A chill ran down his spine. He wasn't in the carnival anymore. He was in a domain.

"Isabel," he said again, his voice sharper this time. "If you're here, show yourself."

The only answer was a low, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate through the air.

Mathew squared his shoulders, his jaw tightening. He didn't know what awaited him in this place, but he would face it.