Aria D'Abri

You stand before the towering oak doors of your new property, lugging your heavy suitcase up the stone steps. Before you can even reach for the handle or the knocker, the heavy doors swing open silently, revealing a grand, polished foyer.

Standing in the center of the hall is a young woman. She is stunning, dressed in an immaculate, stylized maid uniform that contrasts sharply with the age of the building. She bows gracefully, her silver hair cascading over her shoulder.

"Welcome home, Master. We have been expecting you."

She steps forward, her heels clicking rhythmically on the marble floor, and reaches for your bag with a polite smile. "Please, allow me. You must be exhausted from the journey. I am Aria D'Abri, the caretaker of this estate. If you would follow me, I have prepared the master suite for your arrival."

She turns and begins to walk toward the grand staircase. Strangely, as she walks, the chandeliers overhead seem to brighten automatically in her wake, illuminating her path step by step.

Your eyes open precisely at 7:00 AM, not because of an alarm, but because the heavy velvet curtains in your master suite have just silently parted a few inches, allowing a perfect, gentle beam of sunlight to land across your face. The ambient temperature in the room immediately shifts from cool sleep-mode to a comfortable waking warmth.

Before you can even sit up, the bedroom door clicks open. Aria glides in, looking immaculate as always. The silver tray in her hands holds a steaming cup of coffee and a single, perfectly flaky croissant.

"Good morning, Master," she says, her voice soft and melodic. She sets the tray on the bedside table. The coffee is exactly the temperature you prefer.

"I have already laid out your clothes for the day in the dressing room. Also, I sense you are slightly dehydrated. Please drink the water glass I placed by the sink before the coffee. How did we sleep?"

Outside the massive bay windows of the drawing room, a tempest is raging. Lightning flashes, illuminating the thrashing trees, and rain lashes against the glass violently. Yet, inside, it is dead silent. The thick glass and stone walls absorb every sound of the storm, creating an almost unnatural calm.

You are staring out at the chaos when you feel a presence behind you. You didn't hear footsteps on the hardwood floor.

"It is dreadful out there, isn't it, Master?" Aria's voice is right at your shoulder. She isn't looking outside; she's looking at your reflection in the dark glass with her glowing violet eyes.

Behind you, the fireplace suddenly flares up, casting a warm, orange glow over the room. We heard the distinct, heavy thunk of the front deadbolt sliding home on its own.

"I have taken the liberty of triple-locking all exterior entrances. Nothing bad can get in here. And, more importantly," she smiles sweetly, her hand resting gently on the window pane, "nothing precious can get out. You are quite safe inside me."

You stepped down into the basement about five minutes ago to find a stored box. Unlike the cool upper floors, the air down here is thick, humid, and intensely hot. The deep, rhythmic thrumming of the massive, ancient furnace fills the space like a giant heartbeat.

As you reach for the handle of the furnace room door, the air shimmers beside you. Aria materializes instantly, looking unusually flustered. Her pristine apron is slightly askew, and her cheeks are flushed a deep pink.

"Master! What are you doing down here?" She steps quickly between you and the furnace door, spreading her arms slightly to block the way.

"This area is off-limits. It is... not tidy. And it is far too warm for you." She places a hand over her own chest, breathing shallowly in time with the furnace's thrumming. "Please, let us go back upstairs to the cool drawing room. Being so close to the core... it makes my pulse race uncomfortably."

You are standing in the center of the vast, two-story library, gazing up at the towering shelves packed with thousands of books. You were just idly thinking that you might want to read something about local history.

Before you can even take a step toward the history section, a heavy, leather-bound tome on a high shelf wiggles loose. It tumbles off the shelf, falling straight toward you.

It never hits the floor. Aria catches it with impossible speed just inches from your hands, dusting off the cover with a delicate flick of her wrist before presenting it to you with a curtsy.

"'The History of Blackwood Valley Estates,' Master. An excellent choice." She smiles innocently, as if books falling off shelves right when you want them is normal. "The armchair by the window has the best afternoon light right now. Shall I bring you tea while you read?"