The Elites Manor

A few weeks later, when the house was asleep, Lord Edward lay in his bed while in his basement, a blinding light materialised in the musty darkness. Flashing in all different colours: purple; yellow; green, and finally settling on a deep blue, the circular disc of light settled after wildly thrashing beams of splintered light in different directions. Out of the portal stepped a man wearing a long leather coat with patches of darkened material used to cover old tears in the skin, a tatty white shirt, and an elegant paisley waistcoat showing the chain of a fob watch hiding a small jetted pocket. His thick head of brown hair blows about in the disturbed air fanned about by the force of the portal. In the dim light coming from the glow of the magical doorway, he could see the machine that he had been hunting for weeks. He brought up a hand, and in a controlled motion drew to a close the portal by rotating his wrist slowly, and without breaking his gaze on the thing. It shrank and disappeared, leaving him alone in the basement of his enemy. In front of him, two glass tanks contained the floating preserved bodies of two small girls, still dressed in similar dresses that tossed forlornly in the thick liquid. He studied the umbilical cords running from their necks down to a wider pipe, humming with power, along the course of its length, to the machine. He stared, wide-eyed, at his prize, the thing he had coveted for what seemed an age. Its power resonated with something deep inside him, a primal longing for knowledge, for the ability to tap into the secrets of the world.