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a sympathetic brother uttered. The men were near the burnt palace premises now, following Jonah behind. There was the sound of someone coming through a partially charred door. It was kept ajar. A young man strode out from it. He stood a few yards away from the men. He was difficult to identify; for his face was partly covered in blood. When he came close, the men cringed in fright, for he wore a skirt of bearskin like theirs. From his belly to his head was bare save for the blood that covered his face, and he had in his right hand, a glittering sword, which he held upward, keeping its sharpest tip above his head. With his left hand, he held a man’s head which had been cut off from the body.

Mancini barked suddenly. One of his men straightened instantly, as he went outside with the other guards. Andressa leaned back against the couch quietly. This was bad, and she was just here for the show. Minutes later, the doors burst open again. Several men were dragged into the room roughly. They were all bound and some were even bruised. They were all forced onto their knees before Mancini, with terrified looks on their faces. Her father slowly walked toward them now, as the room had gone so quiet that Andressa could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock near the stairs.

It was a heavy-duty corrosive used for clearing drains. I unscrewed the cap, the chemical fumes stinging my eyes. Then I tilted the bottle back and drank. A white-hot pain ripped through my throat, like a thousand knives slicing my vocal cords. My vision tunneled to black, and I collapsed. I woke up in a hospital three days later. The doctor told me my vocal cords were permanently destroyed. I would never speak again. But for the first time in a long time, I felt safe. This time, when I left the manor, no one stopped me. I took one last look at the sprawling estate, a tomb that had buried so many secrets and so many lives.