Blood.
Zera's heart was in her throat. There was crimson all over the floor and on the white wall. The light in the room was dim, but the red spots where someone must have been killed had splattered on one side of their hiding place.
Beatrix had stood unmoving beside Zera. The horrified look on her face was mirrored on her friend's.
Zera couldn't stop her hands from trembling. It shook as she tried to lower the one she had used to cover her mouth.
They seemed to have stumbled inside an art studio. There was an easel in one corner. A set of paintbrushes was on the floor. They had been spilled from their jar container.
The easel was splattered with red blotches. There was no dead body. But Zera felt like the ghost of the person who was killed was there, lingering and hiding in the shadows.
"Do you think…" Beatrix didn't even have to finish her thoughts. Zera knew exactly was she was going to ask.
