It's been four years and it has been difficult for their family, though some find it as an opportunity to strike while the palace seems dormant. The inside feels like a chilling storm of the night, filled with silent cries and bitter pleas.
Deair takes a deep breath, bracing herself for the scream or roar that may come at her upon her decision. She needs to do this, at least the twin needs this.
Her slender finger turned the knob, revealing the same room she used to spend her time inside with the Queen. The one who revealed the fact that her wolf existed, though she can't see her.
The room is still the same, adorned with a satin curtain, a bed with intricate carving on the headboard placed on the left side of the room, oak cupboard and a soft looking couch in the middle.
The Queen lay in bed, breathing but seemingly dead. Her white pale hand clasped within her husband's palm, his cheeks feeling the soft skin.
