The sky was far from dry, thunder bolted as lightning slashed through the tree beside me. Christiaso was long dead, pale as his blood drained from his body. Their house was just a few meters away, taking their almost destroyed carriage to carry their bodies back to their cottage.
The journey back home was loud and full of emotions. My eyes darted to the soft soil as I pulled the carriage, my troubled mind flying toward the Kingdom. I'm sure they have felt another bond breaking.
I wonder if news will reach them, that the Former King and Queen of 80 years are dead. Culprit? A bloodhound with a Lycan mark.
Reaching the cottage, it was dark and lonely. As I reached their doorstep, my sandals got stuck on their doormat that says 'kalos irθate or well you came'. A bitter-sweet smile warped on my pained face, "I did come, too late"
