The main building of the Terrace estate stood tall and elegant, its walls adorned with grand drawings and lavish décor fit for a celebration of significant stature.
Tonight, the estate buzzed with life, as laughter and music filled the air in honor of two intertwined events—the annual inauguration remembrance of Lord Ashbourne Terrace as head of the Terrace family, and his wedding anniversary with Lady Terrace.
This was their eighteenth year together, and the festivities were as grand as the occasion demanded.
The halls were filled with guests, dignitaries dressed in luxurious garments, mingling in the glow of chandeliers that bathed the room in warm, golden light.
Among the attendees were heads from three other Great Families, each bringing an air of formality and reverence.
These were powerful figures, respected and feared, and their presence tonight only elevated the celebration’s importance.
Around them, noblemen, prominent merchants, and skilled artisans exchanged greetings, their voices weaving a steady hum of conversation that rose and fell with the music.
Servants moved swiftly and gracefully through the crowd, carrying trays laden with delicacies—silver platters piled with rare fruits, exquisite pastries, and cups filled with the finest wines. Guests were entertained by musicians positioned in the corner of the grand hall, their instruments filling the room with melodies that evoked the elegance and pride of the Terrace family’s legacy.
At the center of the hall, Lord Ashbourne Terrace stood tall, his presence commanding attention. His silver hair was neatly combed back, and his suit was dark and stately, embroidered with the family crest.
Beside him, Lady Terrace was a picture of grace, dressed in a flowing gown of deep blue, her hand resting lightly on her husband’s arm.
Her warm smile softened the formality of the occasion, and she exchanged pleasantries with those who approached to offer their well-wishes.
The evening unfolded smoothly, and the celebration’s atmosphere was lively yet dignified, each moment a testament to the Terrace family’s standing and history.
“Lord Terrace, congratulations!” One of the Family Lords present found his way to the family Lord of the Terrace household who held a wine glass in his other free hand.
Lord Terrace smiled as he recognised the man before him. A man with the same title as him. “Lord Acheon, I didn’t expect to see you here. However, I’m honored, deeply honored by your presence.” Lord Terrace moved his drink to his left hand and extended his right for a handshake.
“I must say, she remains the same even after all this time.” Lord Acheon smiled, extending his hand as well to complete the handshake.
He turned to Lady Terrace. “Lady Danyel, you’re as stunning as ever. Congratulations on your anniversary.” He stretched his hand forward toward her.
She smiled as she placed her hand on his. “Thank you for the complement. And also, thank you for showing up, Lord Acheon.”
He held onto her hand and slightly bent forward. With a smile, he kissed the back of her palm before standing straight once again.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some drinking to do.” Lord Acheon said with a smile, instantly disappearing into the crowd of invitees.
“I must admit, he didn’t lie. You’re as beautiful as the first day I met you..” Lord Terrace smiled as he laid eyes on his wife once again.
“Thank you, dear husband.” Lady Danyel blushed slightly at his words but her gaze lingered elsewhere.
Far toward the East where a certain island was located. ‘Damien… Please be safe.’
Her thoughts lingered on her presumably dead son whom her husband had exiled without any of their permission.
In another part of the building, a part of the gallery above the main hall, Lady Reyla sat alone with her nephew, Seth, the third son of her older brother, Ashbourne.
“You don’t like this, do you?” Seth asked, his eyes on his petite teenage looking aunt.
She looked almost the same age as him despite being around two decades older.
Lady Reyla turned to her nephew. “Don’t like what?” She asked her cousin. Everytime she stared at him, she was reminded of his two elder brothers who’d met different fates.
Seth looked around for a while before pointing toward the gathered people walking about. “This. The people. The gathering. You don’t like any of it, do you?” He asked again.
His question made her smile. “I don’t like the people but I’m definitely enjoying myself.” As she spoke, she slipped from the wine glass in her hand.
Conversations varied from praise for Lord Terrace’s twenty years of leadership to admiration for the couple’s enduring marriage, a union marked by respect and mutual strength.
“Ahem!” Lord Terrace cleared his throat in such a way that commanded total silence in the hall. All eyes darted toward him either consciously or unconsciously.
Seeing he’d managed to command the attention ofeveryone present,he began “I would like to say a big thank you to all of you present for this celebration. It is with a great heart that I welcome and thank you all for blessing us with your presence.” Then Lord Terrace raised his glass of wine.
“I’d like a toast to everyone present, to my wife for being there for the past twenty years and,” Lord Ashbourne’s eyes darted around as he tried to locate a certain individual.
“Yes, and to my twin brother, Commander Osbourne who’s been with me all my life.” He continued as he located his twin brother standing alone at a corner of the gallery.
Many guests raised their glasses as he spoke. “A toast to the Terrace family’s legacy, our strength, and the fortune of our household.”
“Cheers!”
As glasses clinked, something unexpected occurred. The doors had been closed to ensure privacy, and guards stood vigilantly by each entryway. Yet, a sudden flutter of wings drew eyes upward.
Four small birds, swift and sharp-eyed, darted through one of the open windows above, disrupting the gentle rhythm of the party. Its movement was swift, cutting through the air with purpose.
Guests paused, their eyes following its flight path as it wove through the chandeliers and down toward the crowd below.
The birds didn’t circle or veer off course—they had a clear destination. They flew directly toward certain figures in the crowd, ignoring the startled murmurs and outstretched hands attempting to wave it off.
In an instant, the lively chatter faded, and the attention of the entire hall fixed on the small messengers as they dove downward, aiming for four particular individuals.