Entwined | Sebastian Michaelis

Chapter 1, Phantomhive Truth.

The smell of smoke is the first thing I notice.

It hangs heavy in the air, penetrating my nose and sinking deep into my lungs. I cough as I begin awakening from my deep slumber. With every moment, the smoke gets thicker and thicker.

Then comes the heat.

The temperature begins rising. There is no source of heat in the room, yet I feel it growing warmer. Warmth dances on my skin and forces me to peel the thick duvet off my body. I sit up and realize I can barely see. From underneath my door, I can see a bright light in the corridor and the wisps of smoke sneaking in underneath.

Then I hear the cracks.

My breath hitches in my throat. The noises come from above. The cracking noises from the ceiling keep growing louder. It comes from my left, clearly above my vanity.

Then comes all chaos.

Part of the ceiling comes crashing down on my vanity, bringing flames into my room. They dance on the wooden planks. The fire creeps closer and closer to my bed.

I gasp and jump out of bed. I run to my door and throw it open. Flames surround the corridor, burning through the walls and destroying my home. I spot the stairs and make a run for it.

As I run down the curved staircase, the magnitude of the destruction becomes apparent. Most of the furnishings are destroyed.

Paintings are burnt to a crisp, and wooden beams are collapsing. I sprint as fast as my legs can take me to the front doors.

When I get there, the entrance is completely blocked.

"Bloody Hell," I mutter.

The kitchen backdoor is now my only hope. The fires grow larger. If I do not make it to the kitchen, then I will burn alongside the manor. I go through the long dining hall and see it - the kitchen door.

At that moment, the chandelier comes crashing down. I throw myself out of the way, but not quick enough. A piece of glass cuts my calf. Blood immediately begins flowing, but I stop myself from crying out in pain. I crawl to the kitchen door and turn the knob, but it burns my hand in the process.

Though, it does not matter. I crawl through the kitchen and through the back door, making it through the garden out back. I am caked in my blood and dirt. I crawl far enough from the manor.

Just in time to see the place I called home erupt in flames.

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I wake up with a gasp and abruptly sit up in bed. Frantically, I look at my hand for a burn mark.

Nothing is there.

The door to my room is open. The head maid, Paula, stands at the door with a tray of tea in hand.

"Oh, I see you are awake, Lady Verena. Did you have another nightmare?" She asks.

"Yes, unfortunately," I sigh. "It plagues my mind these days. Even so, three years have gone by. There is not a moment I do not remember that night."

The night of the fire. It has left a deep stain on my soul. No matter how much I want to put it behind me, I cannot. People look at me with nothing more than pity and sadness in their eyes, only acknowledging me as the sole survivor of the Phantomhive Manor fire.