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The noise reached her before the gates came into view. Not street sounds, nor passing chatters.
But voices, too many. Loud and unrestrained.
Celestine leaned towards the window, pushing the curtain aside. The carriage slowed to a stop, unable to get past.
"Why have we stopped?" She asked the coach man. Her voice, tighter than intended.
"My lady," he called from outside, hesitation thick in his voice. "The path is blocked. There are people gathered in front of the mansion."
Her brows drew together. What's going on?
She wondered.
She rose, about to open the carriage door and check for herself.
Suddenly, she froze, as she heard a voice shouting her name.
"Bring out Celestine, the evil doer. Bring out the witch."
Her blood ran cold. The words hit her.
They were familiar. Not new. Her fingers tightened against the carriage door.
"She's evil…" the words were loud and clear.
For a moment, she didn't move. It all felt the same. The noises, voices, and the same weight pressing against her chest, something terrible had happened.
She took a step backwards, her mind raced.
What had she done?
Nothing. Since she gained consciousness, she had made sure to be careful.
No cruelty. No excess. No mistakes.
So why?—
Her head snapped towards the sound of a sharp rattle. The carriage door jerked violently, her breath caught.
Do they know I am here?
She lunged forward, pressing her weight against the door, but it was too late. The door was yanked open.
"My lady…!" Gaia stumbled in, her face pale and breath uneven. She slammed the door shut behind her and locked it. Only then did Celestine exhale.
"Gaia…" Celestine cried out. "What's going on?"
Gaia held Celestine by the hand, her voice panicked. "My lady, we have to move– Now."
Celestine stared confused, but agreed with a nod.
"Mr. Richard…" Gaia called the coachman. "Let's go through the back gate." She demanded.
"Yes, my lady, " he said, pulling the reins of the horse in the opposite direction.
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They slipped through the back entrance, the noise of the crowd still bleeding through the walls. Celestine moved quickly, her steps uneven. Gaia followed close behind, shutting the door with a firm push.
Inside the mansion, the atmosphere was no better.
The maids stood frozen along the wall, their faces pale and eyes flickering towards the door as though expecting someone to burst through at any moment.
Elara paced the room, her panic barely contained. The moment her gaze landed on Celestine, she rushed towards her.
"Celestine—" her hands reached for her.
"Are you hurt?" scanning every part of her carefully.
"I'm fine." Celestine responded, though her voice lacked conviction. "What's going on?" She asked, wasting no time.
Elara drew in a sharp breath. Then,"What did you do?"
Celestine's eyes widened. "What do you mean?" Her voice almost a whisper. She glanced past everyone, but none looked her way.
Their gaze fixed to the ground, purposely avoiding hers.
Except, Gaia.
Elara's grip tightened on her shoulders, pulling her back. "Tell me," she said, more urgent now. "Did you do something?"
"No." Celestine blurted out. "I didn't do anything." she added, "So please…. explain what is happening?"
A tense silence settled between them. Elara's grip loosened. "I don't know."
"After you left this morning…" Elara exhaled. "They showed up, banging on the gates. They demanded you be brought out."
Celestine's chest tightened "Why?"
Elara hesitated.
"...They're saying, you killed someone."
She didn't move. Didn't breathe. She simply stared at Elara, as though she had just spoken in another language.
"Who?" the words slipped out before she could even stop it. "Who are they talking about?"
"A woman….and her son," Elara said. "From the lower district."
Celestine's mind raced. It felt unreal. "That's impossible." She yelled. "I don't even know them."
Her heart hammered, her breathing unable go steady.
Suddenly,
A loud bang caught their attention. The voices outside seemed to have gotten closer.
"Open the gates." The angry crowd yelled.
A male servant rushed, sweat dripping down his forehead, as he took a moment to catch his breath. Elara moved forward, fear carved across her face.
"My lady.." The servant called. "The guards…. royal guards. They are here."
Elara's expression dropped.
Then, a heavy knock thundered against the door. All heads turned. "Open, in the name of the crown."
The maids stiffened. Gaia stepped closer to Celestine instinctively. Then another knock came, echoing over the mansion.
"Open, or we come in."
There was silence. Celestine's head turned to Elara, but her face was drained of color. "They are here…" Elara whispered.
But Celestine didn't move. Her heartbeat slowed, strangely calm. The kind of calm that came before something irreversible.
Celestine swallowed. "...Let them in." Gaia turned sharply.
"My lady…"
"It's fine." but it wasn't, and running away would only make things worse.
The doors slowly opened, and armored guards stepped in, their presence heavy. At the Center, stood the captain.
His gaze swept the room, before it settled on her. "Lady Celestine?"
She nodded.
"You are to come with us."
The room held its breath. Elara stepped forward, "On what grounds…"
"Court's orders." He said. Celestine exhaled slowly. She took a small step forward. "I'll go."
Elara was shocked. Gaia grabbed her by the wrist. "My lady, please…" but Celestine gently removed her hand.
"It's alright," she smiled. "I will be fine."
She lied.
With a quick gesture from the captain, two guards stood beside her. Motioning her to move. As she walked past, the maids lowered their heads.
None said a word, or dared to stop her.
Outside, the noise hit her at once. Shouting.
"Witch!"
"Muderer!"
"Evil doer!"
The gate barely held them back. And the moment she stepped into view, the crowd exploded. Celestine avoided looking their way.
At their faces. Their anger.
Cause she knew what she would see. As she stepped into the carriage, the door shut behind her.
And for the first time, her hands started shaking again.
The carriage jolted forward.
Celestine exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself but her body refused.
She turned to the window, and her reflection didn't look like someone being accused.
It looked like someone who had already lost, before the trial began.