Todos los capítulos de Until The Last Day: Capítulo 201 - Capítulo 210

Camela's mother gradually removed her mask, revealing eyes that seemed dark and empty. “Mama?…” Camela called, her voice trembling. Her mother’s lips formed a sad smile. “You have been found guilty,” her mother stated. The hall fell silent. Camela's vision was clouded by tears, and her hands trembled as she confronted the masked tribunal. One of the judges, a masked woman dressed in black velvet, rose slowly. "Lady Camela. You're accused." Camela gulped hard. "Accused? Of what?" Her mother turned slowly and replied. “Of refusing.” Camela felt her breath caught in her throat. "Refusing what?" Her mother responded, "Refusing to obey. Refusing to wear the crown properly." Camela shook her head. "I have never..." The tribunal whispered to itself. The judge continued: "You carried the rose. You wore the ring. The red silk marked you." Another masked figure appeared—a man wearing a gold mask shaped like a pointed fox. "Lady, the rose stem you held was half-broken. That's a

Camela opened her mouth to scream, but all she could hear was the girl's voice, who had vanished. She sank to her knees, her head pounding. Camela shook with disbelief. She reached for her neck, but the voice had disappeared, and her voice returned, raw and shaking. She panicked and pressed another hand to her neck. She heard footsteps approaching, and a door creaked open behind the cage. A long table covered in red silk with crimson plates was set before her. The air was thick with the faint, metallic scent of blood. Masked figures dressed in red silk robes emerged from behind the table; their masks were bright red, with no expression. The silk they wore was stained— some with symbols, others with red drops that looked like dried blood. Vincent, poised and regal, stood at the center. He leaned in close to Camela. “Red flags,” he whispered. “They gave warnings but you ignored them.” The masked figures moved forward silently. Then took a bow before Camela. Trembling, Camela as

Darkness engulfed Camela.She fell quickly, like the ground had vanished entirely. Air rushed past her ears, her dress tangled around her legs. Then—Bang.She landed on something soft, like a bed of moss. But the cold bit into her skin.Groaning, she pushed herself up. Her fingers sank into damp soil, which smelled of rot and something sweet, almost metallic.The darkness was incomplete. A dim green light pulsed from the walls. Or were they trees?She blinked and realized the walls were alive, faces shifting across them, stretching and pulling, whispering words she couldn’t hear.Camela stumbled back.“Where… am I?”Footsteps sounded behind her.Turning sharply, she called out, “Vincent?”He stood just beyond the green light, half-shadow, half-man. His shirt was open, blood splattered across his chest but not his blood.She shivered.“You fell farther than I expected,” he said.“What is this place?” Her voice cracked.He stepped closer. “A place beneath the veil. Where all things hid

The earth groaned. Cracks split the soil as the grave yawned wider. Camela stumbled backward, breath caught in her throat. Her dress snagged on a thorn, tearing at the hem. Vincent didn’t move.Something pale and wet pushed through the dirt. A hand. Thin. Mud-stained. The fingers twitched.Camela whispered, “Is that… is that human?”Vincent’s voice was quiet. Too quiet. “No, Camela. That is the truth.”The hand gripped the edge of the grave, followed by a second hand. Then, slick with soil and something darker, a woman’s head emerged.Camela clutched Vincent’s arm. “Who is she?”Vincent tilted his head like a curious animal. “Don’t you recognize her?”Camela shook her head quickly, her heartbeat pounding against her chest like a fist.The figure clawed her way out, slow and jerky, as if her bones remembered pain.Camela’s breath hitched. “She looks like me.”Vincent smiled without warmth. “She should. She wore your name not long ago.”The woman—no, a girl—lifted her face. Her eyes wer

“…Mama?”The word came out dry and fragile. Camela’s lips barely moved.Her mother. But older, harsher, eyes sharp like broken crystal.“Camela,” the woman whispered. “You’re finally here.”The woman’s veil shimmered like smoke. Her smile was soft—too soft, too familiar. But it wasn’t right, the eyes were too still. They didn’t match the mother she remembered.Camela staggered back, nearly tripping over the altar steps. The chapel’s candlelight flickered wildly, casting long shadows across the cracked floor tiles.“No,” she whispered. “That’s not possible.” “No… you can’t be—”“I’ve always been here. Just beneath the veil,” her mother said, her voice was a twisted echo of the bedtime stories she used to read. “Vincent said you’d come.”Her fingers twitched toward the rosary wrapped tightly around her wrist—red-blood colored beads.Camela’s breath came short. “This isn’t real. You’re dead. You died two years ago.”“You only buried a name,” her mother said softly, rising to her feet. “