Chapter 2

“Magical Dominatrix: A title granted to the rare witch who unites power and discipline into one sovereign craft. She is revered for her mastery, feared for her freedom, and bound only by her own will.”

Lexicon of Magical Arts, Vol. I

April 14, 2025 - Kael Family Manor (Irish countryside) - 4:50 p.m.

Selene let out a heavy sigh as she climbed the stairs from the ground floor - where the salon was, and where she had until moments ago been quite comfortably installed and ready to “attend to” her prisoner - up to the second floor of the manor, where Sybille’s apartments were located.

Sybille, her eldest daughter, had an uncanny knack for disturbing her at the worst possible moments. At times, Selene wondered, with no small amount of amusement, whether her daughter mistook her - by accident - for some kind of housekeeper of the manor, rather than the matriarch of the Kael family.

Normally, it should have been Selene who disturbed Sybille at the worst possible moment, drawing frustrated sighs from the twenty-seven-year-old young woman - and not the other way around.

But Selene, the powerful Magical Dominatrix and a member of the Magic Council, the very body that governed all witches (no small matter!), had always shown herself more lenient, with Sybille and her younger daughter, Iris, than with others she dealt with, even family.

Not that Selene was a doormat for her daughter, but Sybille sometimes took liberties that were, shall we say, slightly aggravating. Such as, for instance, the habit of shouting her orders or requests at her mother from the upper floors of the manor.

When Selene reached the top of the stairs, she found herself face to face with Sybille, who was holding her cauldron in her hands with a mixture of disgust and annoyance.

The resemblance between Sybille and her mother was not striking. Where Selene had long, almost silver-blond hair, heterochromatic eyes, and a mischievous expression that never seemed to leave her face, Sybille had long hair black as midnight (a shade not found among humans, but one that appeared now and then among witches), deep blue eyes, and an angelic look that concealed her true nature all too well.

These traits she had inherited from her father, Lord Matthew Clay, who in truth was not even a noble, and who, in total, had probably seen his daughter no more than thirty times since her birth. Not that more was expected of him. With only three percent of the magical population being male against ninety-seven percent female, these gentlemen - the only ones capable of fathering a future witch or wizard - were in very high demand ... and very busy.

Selene had therefore raised Sybille on her own, a task that had been far from easy, and one that remained just as challenging since the young woman had finished her studies at Hexa Dublin’s magical university and returned to live at the manor.

Sybille began with the same irritation that had colored her earlier shout. “Mother, look at this cauldron! It’s not washed at all!” she went on, pointing to the inside of her magical utensil, which, indeed, still bore traces of the last concoction she had brewed in it a few days earlier.

Selene raised an eyebrow. “Oh, forgive me - I must have forgotten I was promoted to maid. If you want something scrubbed, talk to the fairies.”

“You know very well they don’t listen to me enough! Their eyes are only for their ‘magnificent,’ ‘powerful,’ ‘glorious,’ or whatever-else Mistress,” Sybille protested as she moved away from the staircase and headed toward her room.

Selene rolled her eyes and followed her daughter, noting in passing that Sybille had made slight alterations to the decor of the manor’s second floor.

The manor itself was composed of three levels. The ground floor housed the living spaces and Selene’s private domain (including the cellar that led down to the outrageously expensive dungeon she had commissioned for herself). The first floor was normally the “den” of her two daughters, but ever since Iris had left to pursue her studies in the human world (a subject Selene preferred not to discuss), it had been occupied solely by Sybille - who had claimed it entirely for herself with little resistance. The second floor was reserved for Selene’s guests / “prisoners” / “captives” / “submissives” (at present, Lady Isobel Fairmont), as well as for the fairies.

Sybille’s room was spacious, luxurious, and filled with magical objects of every kind - many of them rare, some so rare that only the immense wealth of the Kael family could explain their presence. A polished crystal orb, the latest model, gleamed on her desk, capable of transmitting voice and vision anywhere on earth and even into certain lower realms.

Against one wall stood an enormous wardrobe, overflowing with clothes. Some were the latest designs from human haute couture; others bore the labels of exclusive witch ateliers - garments almost indistinguishable from their human counterparts, save for the subtle enchantments woven into the fabric: silks that never wrinkled, coats that repelled rain, jewelry that shimmered in the dark.