In total, seven months had completely elapsed from Aiden’s disappearance; his parents launched the investigation into his whereabouts.

~ ~ ~

Lillian awakened, quite abruptly, to the sound of the zip-line bridge locking into place by the castle gates. An attendant now manned the bridge; he was waiting for a shipment of produce to arrive. Though he was surprised by the Prescott’s arrival, he agreed to take them across safely.

The ride was far smoother than what Aiden had gone through. With an attendant, the platform moved slower, but steadily, across the open coastal gorge, not throwing the occupants of the platform when the platform reached the Inner Courtyard.

It was a moonless night, but the stars sparkled; Antham had lost its lights again. The ship Aiden had previously seen seven months before had remained beached, now abandoned and planned for scrapping; the tide had never come up high enough to refloat the vessel. Now it sat cold, dark, and dry with its death on the horizon.

Lilly realized she was more awake than anticipated, an unwelcome realization because of her overall condition. As the carriage drew into the center of the Courtyard, two nurses met the Prescott women, and guided them towards the Central Building. She glanced up at the high-pitched roofs of the feudal castle, its silhouette overshadowing the courtyard, and found the building incredibly romantic, suddenly being overwhelmed by the history it could tell. But she shook the thought away and walked into the front hall of the Central Building.

Lilly was first struck by how cold the front hall was. The corridor was lit extremely well from the numerous crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. Lilly took note of the large furniture and the towering arched ceiling, which Lilly estimated to be at least thirty feet, maybe higher. She also noted the deep colors and gold accents that mixed well with the white stone arches. Without realizing, her mother had slipped into Mr. Pritchett’s forward office.

“If you would kindly take a seat, miss?” asked one of the nurses, who stood at a distance from Lilly; her voice resonated around the corridor. “Your mother will be out shortly to inform us of your housing plans.” Lilly nodded, and took a seat in an oversized armchair. Suddenly feeling very weak, she glanced up at the ceiling, dropped her head back and sighed slowly out of relief. Her head was spinning from dehydration, and quietly wondered about the construction of the arches. Lilly squinted her eyes and wondered the possibilities of plants to liven up the hallway.

“Plants?” Lilly asked herself, looking around the room to make sure she hadn’t overlooked any plants that already existed; three spiral shrubs sat along the wall, but were small enough to be overlooked. She shook off the thought. Besides, the hall was appropriately appointed already; adding anything further would make the space feel artificial and cluttered.

The great doors to Mr. Pritchett’s office opened slowly, and out walked her mother with a heavyset man with furry eyebrows and greying orange hair following after her. He stepped towards Lilly and slipped on some gloves and a surgical mask. Mr. Pritchett offered his hand to her. Rather than getting up on her own, Lilly was pulled up by the man, which was quite uncomfortable for her. “Miss Prescott, I presume?” he asked, his voice vibrating in a wonderful deep tone that resonated throughout the entire front hall. “Are you all right?”

“I'm not,” she whimpered. “I am very sore.”

Mr. Pritchett nodded, and gave Lilly’s hand to her mother. “Okay, Lillian,” Mrs. Prescott began, “you’ll be staying in a single room with a private bath, okay? Your room is in the Central Building until they have determined that your condition is stable. I will come visit when it is possible, okay?” Lilly nodded, and the two hugged briefly before the elder Prescott departed from the interior, ready to spend the remainder of the night heading back to Antham.

Very slowly, Mr. Pritchett took Lilly by the hand to one of the forward sitting rooms. “We’re moving your belongings to the West side of the building, all right? When your room has been prepared, the staff will come and fetch you.” Lilly nodded, but asked about the details of her arrangement at Raychester Citadel. “Miss Prescott, you’re here because your physician believes you have contracted oxeparitis. Now, if you have it, being in this room is perfectly acceptable since we have you here in the early stages of the illness. Your room is a single living space with a private bath, as your mother explained to you.” Mr. Pritchett dropped his hands to his sides and sat down. “Is there anything in particular you would like to know?”

Still feeling sore, Lilly lifted her head and asked, “Should you find that I do not have the ailment, what would become of me then? What are the follow-up procedures?”

“In the event you don’t have the disease, then protocol dictates that you will remain here for some time. Just as a precaution to make sure you don’t have oxeparitis. Our testing over the next month will determine whether or not your stay here will be extended.”

Lilly shifted her weight to her other foot. “What is here for recreation?” she asked, her head dropping again. “If I do have it, I would like to do something before I become permanently bedridden.”

“We have a conservatory, both in the Central Building and the Health Resort in the West Wing; both have water features and are kept at a warmer climate. We...we have a solarium to the east side. The dining saloon is two rooms down the hall, and the study and library are on the opposite side of the building. The Rose Gardens are maintained in the private courtyard out front, and can open to the gardens at the Health Resort.”

The two fell into silence before a nurse entered the drawing room. “Ma’am, your room is ready.” Mr. Pritchett quickly got up and walked over to her.

“Has he been take care of?” the man whispered.

“He has, but he hurt one of the female staff,” the nurse whispered back, curtseying before coming over to Lilly. “Come along,” she murmured, taking Lilly’s arm carefully into the hallway, where the sanitarium’s new patient, again, noted how cold it was.

Upon stepping into the elevators, the nurse closed the rough-iron gates and the box began ascending. It stalled and slipped only a few inches, sticking crookedly against the sides of the elevator shaft. Stuck between floors, the elevator revealed about two inches of the third floor and about an inch of the second. A quiet scream, which Lilly thought was wind, whistled through the elevator, and seconds later, it continued its incline.