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Trapped: The chains of fate

In a world where mysticism is either discredited or denied by Religious Entities, only those who are willing to see beyond the deception will be granted with the light of truth. Angella Roosevelt is a young schoolgirl who sees herself fall into a world she thought it only existed in the fantasy world of books. Curiosity gets the better of her, and rather quickly, she acknowledges that it was not the first time she had meddled with the mystic world. What will she do once she finds herself in a cycle that she cannot get out?

DC_Winters97 · Fantasia
Classificações insuficientes
35 Chs

Chapter Two

In the distance, an alarm sounded.

She began to grumble and sunk her face further into the feather pillow, but it just kept ringing despite her ignoring it. Thereby, she stretched out her arm and reach the nightstand, placing her hand on top of the clock and turning it off.

Before she had the chance to get out of bed herself, the door to her room swung open and a lively, energetic wave rushed inside, running past her like a wild tornado. "Rise and shine, sleepy-head! It's your first day!" A girl's voice echoed loudly around the room, followed by the sound of several rings sliding through a metal bar.

The sleeping beauty suddenly realized the curtains were open, and the sun streaming into her window, "Just five more minutes please..." she pleaded to the other girl, pulling the covers over her head to stop the light from hurting her eyes.

"No can do!" The bedsheets slipped off the girl's body and were thrown to the small cushion on one of the corners of the room. "C'mon Ella. Get up already or you'll get late!" said in her usual scolding voice.

The youngster let a low groan escape her lips, "Do I have to? I can just call in sick." Despite not seeing her, she could almost feel the other women's disappointed eyes boring into her very soul. A moment of silence followed. "Fine!" At last, she sighed in defeat, then threw her legs out of bed and quickly sat up, thus rubbing her face with the sleeve of her pajamas. After smothering a wide yawn, she asked, "What are you still doing home, sis? Didn't you have a gig this morning?"

"And I still do." The sister was rummaging through the drawers and the closet, seemingly looking for specific pieces of clothing. Her long, wavy dark brown hair danced along her curves while she moved between the two pieces of furniture; she was wearing a nice, short-to-the-knee yellow dress and black stiletto high heels, a color which undoubtedly brightened up her green eyes. "But I knew you would oversleep so, I called in and asked if I could delay the photoshoot a couple of hours."

"Won't your agent get mad?" She frowned at her suspiciously. "I don't want to harm your career in any way..."

"Well, definitely. But don't you worry about that, now. Here." She briefly spun around and threw at the youngling a clean set of bra and underwear, a plain t-shirt, and jeans, which she'd caught awkwardly middle-air. "And don't forget to grab your jacket!"

"Is it too late already?" She wondered and yet, it was something she should have asked when she first strolled in the room.

"It's seven-thirty in the morning." She answered casually, "Hurry up. Dad is making breakfast."

As soon as she said that, "Samanthera, Angella, Leon!" an older voice coming from downstairs resounded throughout the whole house. "Haven't I called you already? Don't you make me go there and drag each and one of you by the ear--"

"Get ready, I'll drive you to school later," Sam said, smiling. "I'll go ahead. See ya in a bit." and left the room, trotting down the stairs and towards the dining room.

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It was 8 am when Samanthera stopped at the entrance to the prestigious New Elite Academy, right in the center of Paris, a few kilometers from the Eiffel Tower.

She and her family arrived at the Le Bourget airport approximately a month ago and decide to stay in the Île-de-France region[1]. They had moved from St. Louis, Missouri, to the magnificent city of love.

Their reasons being for two of three reasons: the eldest daughter signing a contract with the most famous fashion magazine in all Paris at the time, 'Prestige & Glamour', as their leading model, and the youngest daughter earning a scholarship to attend the best private school in that country. And yet, it would still be a fresh start.

It came out as a shock to the family of three. Of course, it was a great change and, an unexpected one, to top that, but sometimes, change is just what people needed. Change is inevitable. Change is constant.

From inside the car, Angella was glued to the glass, staring completely dazed at the lust and grandeur displayed by that place. The Academy's front gate was built under the influences of what seemed to be Ancient Rome, and it consisted of a marble round arch that framed the entire upper section of the entrance, providing complete harmony to the entire infrastructure.

The grid, meant to keep any unwanted visitors away, was building up from the very bottom of a rose gold metal, shiny and new. Inside the premises, beyond the walls, was a beautiful garden; widespread bushes of white and red roses lead the way towards the front of the academy. At the center of the New Elite Academy, only a single building stood tall. It was quite large in terms of length and appeared to have been built in the Renaissance era.

The French Renaissance Architecture is an architectural style that was imported from Italy, during the early 16th century, to France where it was developed in the light of the dominant architectural traditions. During the early years of the 16th century, the French were involved in wars in northern Italy, bringing France not only treasures of Renaissance art, but also their stylistic ideas. She had read all about it in History class and she could not be more fascinated.

"Are you going to sit there or are you going in?" Asked the sister, interrupting her thoughts and startling her.

Angella blinked out of her stupor. "S-Sorry!" She drew a hand to the door's handle, "Don't worry about picking me up! I'll see you at home, Sam. Good luck with the photo shoot!"

"Good luck with your first day!" She waved at her and wished back.

The door closed behind her with a loud thud. The newbie watched the car disappear into the distance before spinning around in her heels and facing her new school life head-on.

New Elite Academy was a prestigious academy, highly luxurious in the old fashion and yet filled with knowledge from the modern world. Only people with high IQ were allowed to attend that school, that is, if money and status weren't involved. Hence it was an exclusive school known for exclusivity and excellence, but also for the opportunities it provided.

That said, every year the academy board held an international educational debut in which it awarded scholarships to the top three candidates who were perceived as the most suitable ones, with a high rate of success. After the disclosure of the results, the students are notified via letter, and after receiving it, they should head to the New Elite Academy to complete the rest of the documentation related to the application, as well as the delivery of the necessary requirements for this.

Angella was one of the lucky ones. Her nervousness grew as she looked at the main building. Her stomach lurched again as she thought about how hard she would have to work to keep the scholarship. But she might as well try.

Then, a low and rough voice came from within the academy, addressing the girl, breaking her from her thoughtful trance. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

She nodded in response, once again a bit startled, and glanced back at the academy's building. "I-Indeed it is, m-monsieur...?"

"DeVito. Maxwell DeVito." He promptly introduced himself. "I'm New Elite's vice-rector. And, you must be Mademoiselle Angella Roosevelt, am I right?"

"Y-Yes. A pleasure to meet you sir." said the student, stretching a hand between the bars.

They shook hands. "Well, welcome to the academy then." The deputy warden smiled warmly at her, thus opening the gate for her.

For a moment she contemplated him in silence, "Uh... So, what can you tell me about this place?" Angella asked the question with genuine interest.

Maxwell cleared his throat huskily, as old men do, and gave her a short lesson in history since she seemed to like it, "The infrastructure you see before you were built from the architectural plans left by the sculptor and architect Filippo Brunelleschi[2], in 1445, under D. Carlos, the Six, direct order[3]. He once heard of the notable 'Spedale degli Innocenti orphanage'[4], in Italy, and so, decided, right before losing his sanity, that he wanted an orphanage just like that one. So, In 1471, was the opening of the French orphanage, 'Valois Orphelinat'." He explained although she hadn't asked.

The word "orphanage" made her immediately stop looking at the academy and stare back at the tall man in a dark blue suit and a sapphire tie. He didn't look more than sixty years old. The man had gray hair, but his posture was exemplary. His eyes were as dark as pitch, which made her stomach clench just by looking at them. But she forced herself to look at him and clarify, "Did you say... orphanage?"

He was contemplating the main building when the question was left in the open, yet, before answering her, he turned his face towards her and, his pitch-colored eyes focused on her hazel-brown ones. "That was exactly what you heard, mademoiselle. This building was once an Orphanage. For many decades, it was once run by a very wealthy and respected family, the Rousselle Family." He took a deep breath and then, continued. "This building has been in the possession of this family for generations until..." The man regarded the building in high standards, but she could sense a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"Until when?" She echoed his words.

He opened his mouth to speak but, immediately regretted it. The words he intended to say next, apparently died in his throat before reaching his mouth. His attention was distracted momentarily as his gaze seemed lost in the distance.

"Monsieur DeVito?" She reached out and tapped his shoulder a couple of times, as to call his attention. "What happened?"

With a heavy sigh, he said. "In 1980, during the night, the orphanage was burned to the ground, killing everyone inside, including all the staff members." He curly said, his expression clearly hiding a great amount of grief.

"That's terrible, I didn't know..." Ella felt bad for asking, but she was just naturally curious.

"How could you really?" He said, more to himself than to the girl, then drew a deep breath and resumed, "Ten years later, the orphanage was rebuilt and, in 1990, transformed into what you see today."

She stood there quietly, with an expectant expression in her eyes, expectant to hear more about the building's history while anticipating some of the details with a certain excitement and making up a whole fabled story in her head.

"Anyway, around '88, the Rousselle Family lost the orphanage along with their entire fortune, which was quite a lot. They lived... let's say, extravagantly." He explained to his new guest the consequences of loving money too much and wanting more than they could have, "Then, they disappeared. Of course, it was reported to the qualified authorities, they were wanted for crimes of embezzlement, forgery of documents, and tax evasion, after all."

Angella said nothing as he related in detail most, the young student was speechless, how could anyone put wealth above the lives of human beings?

"--Some say, they were the ones responsible for the fire just to get the insurance money. Others believe that there were some obscure reasons behind it." As if he regretted instantly what he had just said, the man closed his mouth shut, establishing a very disturbing and embarrassing silence between the two of them, and yet, his silence said volumes to her.

She leaned slightly forward and whispered to him, looking in both directions as to see if as being overheard, "As such?" His expression was unreadable, even at that point; she pressed the issue for clearer answers. "When you said obscure, I could only think about witches, rituals, and demons--"

He almost chortled at the ridiculous thought, just wishing someone was there with him to talk some sense into her. "You read too many books, mademoiselle Roosevelt. Life isn't a fairytale, there is no such thing as the supernatural or mysticism."

Hearing that only made her more confused, his words contradicted each other. "B-But the way you said it--"

"Make nothing ou of it, I didn't mean it like that." He said, dismissing her curiosity and hurrying her further inside the academy premises. "Off you go. The headmaster is waiting for you now."

Before she strolled forward, her feet stopped middle-track to look back at the vice-principal Maxwell DeVito, who was still holding the gate, and said, "Please, can you show me to the headmaster's office? I wouldn't even know where to start. And Angella would suffice."

"But of course." He replied with a small smile.

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The exterior architecture of the main building was based on French Renaissance Architecture, and it was stupendously wide-ranging and indeed akin to a cathedral. The interior was highly luxurious, as said before, and despite the fire in '99 and the rebuilt, all features of the French Renaissance style were remained intact, no altercations came to it, minor some modernization.

After entering the main building, they were presented with a wide atrium. Both the right and left corridors of that atrium, from what she could observe, led to the same door, having a couple of windows to other rooms along the way. Bound the columns that sustained the atrium, was a beautiful garden, seemingly tended to and maintained every day. And, right in the middle of such art stood a tall fountain.

Angella had to force herself to keep her distance and not just run towards it to enjoy all the pleasant sensations that it was providing her, and which compelled her to stay.

The bottom of the fountain was all in marble stone, having a statue of a half-naked woman holding two vases, at the center. As her eyes followed the designs inscribed on the cylindrical base of the fountain, she concluded that the structure where the water remained stored after being spilled from the top, was in a shape of a shell. "Beautiful..."

It was cascade-style, and the sound that the water made as it hit the watertight in the bowl was pleasant and harmonious, giving off a sense of peace and calm. Next to it were four sets of benches also in marble and surrounded the entire fountain. In that glorious garden, there were only one type of flower, white roses, and they were strategically scattered throughout the space.

Before she knew it, she was being led back inside the building and then, to the elevator entrance at the end of a long corridor. The walls of the corridor were all also made of marble, and several gold candlesticks with white candles ran along with them.

Once on the administration floor, they made their way to the dean's office. A few meters from the elevator was a young woman sitting behind a desk, working endlessly on piles of documents, and behind her was another door, which led to God knows where.

The secretary was one of the most beautiful women Angella had ever seen in her life. Her beauty was goddess-like. Her skin was of soft caramel, her hair was hay-colored, and long, tied together into a tight braid, and her eyes were of a topaz blue, mesmerizing. She was dressed quite formally, in a white ruffled shirt, a moss green suit, and black leather heels, reminding her of the latest fashion line of the Coco Chanel brand[5].

Their pace came to an expected halt. The man immediately addressed the worker, letting her know why they were approaching. Angella refrained her deed to only smiling.

After acknowledging our presence, she picked up the phone and dialed a specific number. She spoke very quietly to the person on the other line. As soon as she got an answered from them, she said, "You may proceed." and kindly gestured to the door behind her.

Angella stood frightened before the large, violin brown doubled door. For a moment, she felt a surge of anxiety controlling her rational side, making her heart race and her breathing shallow.

Vice-principal Maxwell knocked on the door in a very peculiar rhythm, reminding her perhaps of a code-morse sequence.

A sweet female voice answered from the opposite side. "Oui?"

He swayed the door open just enough for him to step in half of his body. "Mademoiselle Angella Roosevelt is here, can I send her dean in?"

For that moment, she just wanted to roll her eyes at the vice-principal, but only did it mentally, obviously. Why can't people just do what they were told? She thought to herself. There was no need for the affix- 'mademoiselle'.

"Most certainly. You may send her in," it said, extremely controlled.

He nodded his agreement; then released the door, turned around on his heel, and addressed her again. "You may come in; she'll see you immediately." He smiled faintly at her, but, when he saw her panic-face, he quickly tried to comfort her, easing her doubts with reassuring words, "Don't be nervous, there's nothing to fear. My sister is no bogeyman."

"Sister?!" She shouted, staring at him in surprise.

He chuckled softly and gently patted her on the shoulder. "Yes. Now, go on, so your life can finally begin."

Angella took a deep breath and knocked on the door. She allowed a few seconds to pass by before actually opening the door on her own accord.

She peeked around the door only to see a woman sitting at the desk. The walls to the headmaster's office were all in shades of navy blue and, the curtains of a softer blue, making them resemble giant waterfalls. A broad plush carpet lay between two white leather sofas. Attached to the ceiling hung a beautiful silver lamp all in the old fashion, whose edges reminded of little teardrops. Kept at the center of the rug was a small glass table, with a tray containing a teapot, a sugar bowl, and three sets of cups and spoons, all in rose gold. At each side of the room, there were two bookshelves, harboring thousands of books in different looks and shapes, manifestly old and worn out due to successive readings.

[1] Île-de-France is one of France's twenty-seven administrative regions. In the Old Regime, it was a French province. After the Revolution it was renamed the Parisian Region, thus prevailing until 1975, when it recovered its old name.

[2] The Renaissance sculptor and architect, Filippo Brunelleschi, was born in 1377, in the city of Florence, Italy, the son of the notary Brunellesco Di Lippo. He died on April 15, 1446.

[3] D. Carlos VI, king of France: September 16, 1380 - October 21, 1422. Belonging to the House of Valois. He was considered D. Carlos, The Fool.

[4] Spedale degli Innocenti was a children's orphanage in Florence, designed by Filippo Brunelleschi. It is considered an outstanding example of the first Italian Renaissance architecture. Construction date: 1419 and inauguration date: 1445.

[5] Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel (born in Saumur on August 19, 1883 - Paris and died on January 10, 1971) was a French stylist and founder of the Chanel brand. She is the only designer on Time magazine's list of the 100 most important people in 20th-century history.

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