Throwing her amiability out of the window, Ilya looked at Horen as if he was the vilest of vermins that she had laid her eyes on. She was uncharitably disinterested in his intentions. Although, if he ran around and caused a scene, it would be a problem for her. After all, exterminating rodents was something that she didn't wish to do.
"I am not merciful enough to pardon your insolence, cherished Marquess. I am here to pay respects to my dearest father. I suggest that you learn your place."
The coldness exuding from her voice managed to glaciate Horen on his spot. Leaving fear aside, there was a sort of force that was constricting his whole body. No doubt that it's magic, yet he couldn't break away despite being a sorcerer himself. That simply spoke volumes of their difference in prowess.
After addressing Horen's unwarranted action, Ilya looked on the ground and saw a wooden box. The smile on her face returned, but it hardly lightened the atmosphere.
Ilya began to make her way to the box. Meanwhile, the Duke and Horen were reduced to watching her every movement. Their chance just escaped the hall, so they had to wait for another.
Well, that was if another would come.
"Fret not, your turn will come soon."
They weren't aware as to who Ilya was speaking to. However, both the Duke and Horen didn't have a good feeling about it.
Ilya's steps were leisurely, making her look like a tourist in the mansion that was supposed to be her home. In due time, she halted her steps a few inches away from Horen. Ilya then hunched down and picked up the box.
"Is now a convenient time for you to come out? If it isn't, tell me. I'll buy some time for you." llya said as she caressed the surface of the box.
As if to answer her, the box quivered slightly. Ilya's smile grew even wider, reaching her eyes that were glowing with malice.
"Is that so? Then I'll lay you down somewhere open. In that way, you'll welcome this world in comfort."
The lady followed suit with her promise and walked en route to the centre of the Banquet Hall. Withal, right at the centre was where Ophelia and Troy's lifeless bodies were, not to mention the grieving Duchess.
Setting foot in the painting array that marked the middle, Ilya didn't stop until she was beside her dead siblings. She gave the Duchess a blank look, which the latter repaid with hatred.
"Care to step aside? I will need this area of the hall devoid of obstructions." Ilya uttered, her fingers fidgeting on the box's lock.
"You!" The Duchess screamed all the while clutching Ophelia's cold hands. "That's my daughter's gown! How dare you lay your filthy hands on my daughter's garments!"
Ilya tilted her head, mirthful at the Duchess' words, and replied, "Your daughter is dead yet your concern is her garments? I thought you had your priorities sorted out when you decided to kill Duchess Hevelia von Bismarck, Viscountess Sorsiana Hamlin."
With tears ceaselessly escaping her eyes and snot dribbling down her nose, the Duchess let her lips loosen up.
"Your mother was a harlot who slept around with the knights who should have been faithful to their women! Death and suffering are the only things that your mother deserved! Now take off my daughter's clothes and get out of our mansion!"
Needless to say, such remarks wouldn't make Ilya waver. She was utterly detached from her mother's love that she didn't feel the urgency to defend the former Duchess.
"So, you're basically admitting to your sins. How amusing. Well, it's not like I have any business whether you were the one who killed her or not."
"Hah! Such benevolence doesn't suit your dreary appearance! Halt your delusions and get down on your knees. You ought to be begging forgiveness!"
Ilya has had enough of listening to the woman's complaints. Hence, she didn't bother comprehending what the Duchess was blabbering about. The lady went on to stand beside Ophelia's body and stooped down. Of course, the Duchess tried to pull her daughter away from Ilya, but it was too late for that.
"Since you didn't want to grant my request, I'll have to remove the obstructions myself."
Thenceforward, Ilya grabbed Ophelia's head and sunk her nails on the woman's wet scalp.
"Cinis ad cinerem"
Ere long, Ophelia's entire body turned to ashes.
The pool of blood around Ophelia slowly began to soak her ashes, dissolving them into nothingness.
"NOOOOO!" The Duchess screamed in agony as she scrambled to scoop up her daughter's ashes.
That was a wake-up call for the Duke and Horen as well. They dashed for the centre of the hall to help the Duchess in her fruitless endeavour.
Seeing them struggle like fools, Ilya could only laugh. However, her laughter didn't last long. She had to move fast.
"Erro"
The Duke, the Duchess, Horen, and Troy's body were sent flying towards the far side of the hall. They landed on an area of the wall a couple of meters above the ground, their bodies nailed on the cement. None of them could even let out a grunt as they passed out from the impact.
Ilya paid them a brief glance, marvelling at her work of art.
"Should I give this masterpiece a name?" She questioned herself, "I guess I can. What do you think, my dearest treasure?"
Again, the box quivered as a response. Ilya giggled at their mischievousness.
"Burning Jesters, a becoming name for the view."
Satisfied, Ilya laid the box down on the puddle of blood. She proceeded to saunter towards the wall where the four individuals were still affixed.
"Avadi vanna"
When her spell descended, they all regained consciousness, including Troy who was supposed to have departed for heaven.
"Everyone, join me in my prayer as the dirt awaits our arrival."
As much as they wanted to protest, none of them could summon their voice. They could solely throw their scrutiny at Ilya through their hazy gazes.
Ilya was disimpassioned to accommodate their scrutiny. The reason being the most awaited moment of her life was about to occur right in front of her eyes. She joined her hands, got down on her knees, and closed her eyes.
"I came from the ashes. The ashes consolidate the sins of my being. To be forgiven of my sins, I must return to where I belong. The dirt is my birthplace and the origin of all living things. The forthcoming of the chariot is soon. I will willingly ascend the chariot, only to be lowered down my cradle."
With her lips shivering in the coldness of her heart, Ilya opened her eyes.
"Oh blessed chariot, the bearer of the inferno, set this land on fire. Heed my prayer of death in order to welcome my second birth. Merge my ashes with the dirt."