Chapter 21: XXI

Miss Cleo and Samuel, weary from their travels, returned to its familiar entrance.The air smelled of aged wood and memories—of secrets whispered in dimly lit corridors.

As they stepped inside, the grand chandelier flickered to life, casting a warm glow on the marble floor. The hotel had seen better days, but it still held an air of mystery—a promise of hidden treasures waiting to be uncovered.

To their surprise, the lobby was not deserted. Three young figures stood near the concierge desk, clad in faded aprons. Their eyes widened as they caught sight of Miss Cleo and Samuel.

"Hello Miss Cleo," they said in a chorus. Miss Cleo raised an eyebrow.

"My dear darlings,what brings you here in this deadly plague?"

"The plague took many," the second servant interrupted, her eyes downcast. "But some of us remained. We couldn't abandon the hotel entirely."

Samuel leaned in, studying their faces. "Why stay? What keeps you here?"

The third servant, a tall and confident young lady. "The Moonflower," he said. "We believe we can still save lives.We believe we can help you find it"

Miss Cleo's exhaustion melted away. She clasped her hands together. "You wish to help us find it?"

The three nodded in unison. "We do," the tall girl confirmed. "We've read about it—the Moonflower—in old texts. It blooms only under certain conditions, and its petals hold ancient knowledge."

"The three books?" Samual suggeste"Do  you mind them reading it?"

"Yes! The Three books," Miss Cleo said, her eyes gleaming. "Three books may hold the key. Read them, search for clues. Whispers of the Moon, Ink and Stardust, and The Glass Garden.Please my darlings if you don't mind will you read it?""

The young servants accepted the task with reverence. They rushed after Miss Cleo who led them into the library.Wide eyed they each took a book,made themselves confertable on the worn rug and began to read.

Miss Cleorata watched them as the occasionally whispered,shared looks of horror or simply  giggled away,her heart swelling with gratitude. Perhaps these unlikely allies held the missing pieces—the threads that would lead them to the Moonflower's hidden sanctuary.

Miss Cleo sat behind her mahogany desk, her brown hair cascading over the leather-bound books. Samuel stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the moonlit garden beyond.

Miss Cleo looked up, her eyes kindling. "What have you discovered?" she asked after some time.

The tall girl stepped forward. "In 'Whispers of the Moon,' we found a riddle," she said. "It speaks of a hidden path, where shadows dance at midnight. The Moonflower awaits those who follow the moon's reflection."

Samuel leaned closer. "A path? But where?"

The second servant unfolded the parchment. "The garden," she whispered. "The moonlit garden behind the hotel. There's a gate—the one we thought led to nowhere. But now..." Her finger traced a crescent moon symbol.

Miss Cleorata nodded."Indeed"

The third servant cleared his throat. "In 'Ink and Stardust,' we read of a forgotten language—the language of stars. It's said that the Moonflower responds to celestial whispers."

Miss Cleo's eyes sparkled. "The stars hold the key," she murmured. "We must decipher their patterns."

The second servant placed the pressed flower on the desk, her eyes wide with urgency, stepped closer to Miss Cleo.

"Miss Cleo," she began, her voice hushed, "the Glass Garden harbors a secret. A delicate balance that sustains its ethereal beauty."

Miss Cleo leaned in, intrigued. "What secret, my dear?"

"The Moonflower," the maid whispered, "it thrives on love. Not just any love, but love witnessed within its crystal petals. If love remains unseen, the Glass Garden withers."

Samuel shifted, his gaze drawn to the moonlit blooms beyond the window. "Witnessed love," he mused. "How does one witness love in a garden?"

The maid's eyes softened. "It's not about grand gestures," she explained. "It's in stolen glances—the way two hearts align under the moon's glow. When lovers find solace here, their reflections merge with the glass petals. The Moonflower drinks from their shared affection."

Miss Cleo traced the edge of her desk. "And if no love graces its presence?"

"Then," the maid said, "the Glass Garden fades. Its petals lose their luminescence, and the moonlight slips through, uncaught."

Samual and Cleorata eyes met. "We shall go once more my love"

"Indeed"

The three servants exchanged glances. "The moonlit garden," the tall girl said. "The stars' language. The glass-encased bloom."

Miss Cleo stood, her resolve unwavering. "We shall go tonight," she declared. "Under the moon's watchful eye, we'll find the hidden path. We'll speak the stars' language. And we'll unlock the secrets of the Moonflower."

Samuel nodded. "Together."

And so, with the riddle, the parchment, and the moonlit petal, they set forth—a determined group bound by fate and moonlight. The Mayfair Monor Hotel held its breath, knowing that within its walls, magic stirred—a fragile hope that transcended time and whispered promises of wonder.