Henri began descending the spiral staircase, his footsteps echoing in the vast space. The mansion's other side unfolded before them, a grand spectacle of architecture and artistry. Sir Eadric's absence was noted, but not dwelled upon. The highest floor formed an intricate spiral, with a massive chandelier suspended from the ornate ceiling, its crystals refracting light in a dazzling display.

  The staircase itself was a marvel of craftsmanship. Wrought iron railings twisted like vines, their intricate patterns telling stories of ages past. Each step was made of polished marble, veined with gold that seemed to shimmer with every footfall. The walls surrounding them were adorned with tapestries and paintings, each one a window into the family's rich history.

  As they started their journey down the winding stairs, Anna's voice broke the silence. "Dad, we went to Richard's," she began, her fingers tracing the elaborate banister. The cool metal beneath her fingertips grounded her, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind. "Uncle—"

  Henri cut her off with a gentle wave of his hand, his eyes scanning the artwork around them. "Yeah, yeah. So anyway, he had this one painting. The woman there is from our family, right?" His voice carried a hint of weariness, a testament to the day's events. He paused at a particular painting, his gaze lingering on the brushstrokes that brought the canvas to life.

  Anna's brow furrowed as she contemplated her father's words, her eyes following his to the painting. "Didn't you know of this already?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. She leaned in closer, trying to discern what had captured her father's attention so completely.

  Henri's hand brushed against the painting's frame as they passed, his touch lingering on the ornate gold leaf. The artwork depicted a solitary sword, its craftsmanship beyond compare. The blade, forged from the finest steel, seemed to pulse with an inner fire, its edge gleaming with an otherworldly hue. The hilt, wrapped in dark leather, bore the patina of countless battles. The crossguard, etched with the intricate design of a roaring phoenix, hinted at the weapon's legendary status.

  "I mean, yes," Anna replied, her eyes still fixed on the painting. She traced the outline of the sword with his finger, just millimeters from the canvas. "Other than the trade between the families, and how I may be traded—"

  "It doesn't work like that anymore," Henri interjected firmly, his gaze snapping back to meet Anna's. His voice carried a weight of finality, as if closing a chapter on an old, outdated tradition.

  Anna's hand reached out, grasping her father's large coat. The fabric was rough under her fingers, a stark contrast to the smooth surfaces surrounding them. "Alright, so before we get down," she said, peering over the railing. The floor below seemed impossibly distant, a testament to the mansion's grandeur. Vertigo threatened to overtake her for a moment, and she stepped back, steadying herself against her father. "Story!" she exclaimed, tugging at Henri's coat with childlike enthusiasm.

  Henri chuckled, his fatigue momentarily forgotten. The sound echoed off the walls, filling the space with warmth. "Alright," he conceded, clearing his throat. He took a deep breath, as if preparing to dive into a vast ocean of memories. "She's..." he paused, gathering his thoughts, his eyes distant as if seeing something beyond the present. "Celeste Maris," he finally said, his voice tinged with reverence.

  As they continued their descent, Henri's hand glided along the polished railing. The chandelier above cast a warm glow, its light dancing across the surfaces around them. Their footsteps created a rhythmic symphony against the marble steps, a steady beat to accompany the tale unfolding between them.

  "In my opinion, her husband had no interesting qualities," he continued, his tone dismissive. Anna raised an eyebrow at this, but remained silent, eager to hear more. "The sage of that time deemed it necessary, for whatever reason. Due to the characteristics of that quest, one of the clauses for doing something—its exact content lost—was marriage."

  Anna's anger flared at the mention of arranged marriages, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. But a gentle pat from her father calmed her, his touch a reminder of the present. "Ill thoughts..." he murmured, a reminder of the sages power. Anna took a deep breath, consciously relaxing her fingers.

  "It was an extremely long time ago; no one knows for certain," Henri explained, his voice softening. He paused at another painting, this one depicting a vast library filled with ancient tomes. "But one thing is clear: the de Meaux kept records of her." As they rounded another turn, Henri's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "Her otherworldly appearance, 'God in human form,' the family records say. And unlike the usual red hair that occurs in the generals in the family, she had incognito black hair."

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  Anna couldn't suppress a giggle, the sound light and carefree in the otherwise solemn atmosphere. "Well, guess that missed our generation," she mused, her hand covering her mouth in amusement. She twirled a lock of her own hair, decidedly not black, around her finger.

  Henri attempted to continue, but Anna interrupted, her skepticism evident. "Dad, in the painting at Uncle Richard's house, she didn't really seem any special. And if she was so extraordinary, wouldn't we have actual paintings of her? You're glazing her alot right now." She gestured to the countless paintings surrounding them, none of which seemed to depict this legendary figure.

  "Your modern slang," Henri sighed, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and fondness. "She was special, on the list of the pyramids families best potential." Without warning, he leaped onto the railing, balancing precariously.

  Anna, momentarily oblivious to her father's daring move, pressed on with her questions. "Yeah, that. Why'd we get so low in the pyramids?" Her voice carried a hint of bitterness, a reflection of conversations she'd overheard and speculation about their family's standing.

  "We didn't have enough potential i suppose," Henri replied, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. Suddenly, he dropped down, defying gravity as he plummeted past the winding stairs. The air rushed past him, carrying with it the musty scent of old books and polished wood.

  As Henri fell, the paintings on the walls became a blur of color and history. One depicted a group of men in ornate French armor, their expressions stoic and determined. The artist had captured the glint of sunlight on their breastplates, making them seem almost alive in their frozen state.

  Another showed a vast grassland, stretching to the horizon, dotted with ancient trees that seemed to whisper secrets of ages past. The sky above was a tumult of storm clouds, promising both destruction and renewal. In the foreground, a solitary figure stood facing the tempest, their cloak billowing in the wind.

  A particularly striking piece caught Henri's eye: a portrait of a woman with eyes that seemed to follow him as he fell, her enigmatic smile holding an Erie feeling, gosh they had to deal with such a woman. Her gaze was piercing, as if she could see right through him, past the present moment and into the very core of his being.

  Anna's cries echoed through the stairwell, bouncing off the walls and creating a cacophony of concern. "Dad! Oh no..." She instinctively moved to jump after him but quickly drew back, her heart racing. The rational part of her mind knew her father was capable, but fear still gripped her. A frustrated grumble escaped her lips as she began her hurried descent down the stairs, her footsteps a frantic staccato against the marble.

  Henri landed with a graceful thud, his body absorbing the impact with practiced ease. Years of training and, perhaps, something more allowed him to accomplish such feats. He scratched his beard, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yap is what they say, right?" he called up to Anna, his voice filled with amusement and a touch of pride.

  As Henri walked through the door at the bottom of the staircase, an breathtaking sight greeted him. A lush garden stretched before him, a stark contrast to the opulent interior they had just left. Vibrant flowers in every hue imaginable dotted the landscape, their fragrance filling the air. Ancient trees provided dappled shade, their branches reaching skyward like nature's own cathedral.

  The garden was a masterpiece of landscape architecture, blending formal French designs with more naturalistic elements. Perfectly manicured hedges formed intricate patterns, while wildflowers peeked out from between carefully placed stones. A fountain burbled in the distance, its gentle sound a soothing counterpoint to the silence of the mansion.

  Anna finally caught up after 10mins, her cheeks flushed from the rapid descent. Her hair, usually so carefully styled, had come loose during her rush down the stairs. "Dad, you can't just do things like that!" she exclaimed, torn between exasperation and relief. Her eyes darted over him, checking for any signs of injury.

  Henri's eyes twinkled with mischief, a youthful spark that belied his years. "Why not? Life's an adventure, my dear. Sometimes you have to take the leap—literally." He gestured to the garden before them, his arm sweeping wide to encompass the beauty surrounding them. "Now, shall we explore this paradise?"

  As they stepped into the garden, the weight of family history and expectation seemed to lift from their shoulders. The mysteries of Celeste Maris and the family's legacy faded into the background, replaced by the simple joy of a father and daughter embarking on a new adventure together.

  The air was different here, fresher somehow. Anna took a deep breath, feeling the tension of the day's events begin to dissipate. She looked at her father, seeing him not as the bearer of family secrets and responsibilities, but simply as her dad – brave, a bit reckless, but always there for her.

  "So," Anna began, a mischievous glint in her eye to match her father's, "any other family secrets hidden in this garden? Perhaps a magical tree or a fountain of youth?"

  Henri laughed, the sound rich and full. "Oh! i have one, the person, the original ancestor of the de meaux, de lorraine and the sort.."

  "original ancestor" Anna repeats.