A raven flapped its wings, disturbing the silence of the moonless night. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, and a wild animal's faded roar sent the chills down the spine.
The needles of the clock remained at eleven o'clock. Broughton was fast asleep, finding a short escape from their realities and lost in the lands of beautiful dreams.
But one soul was still fast awake. Instead of indulging in the dreams, she believed in creating them, working for them, and struggling for them at all costs, despite the consequences.
The darkness had wrapped the surroundings in its tight embrace. The maze of trees had disappeared into that darkness to be the one.
Sylvia stepped back from the window and closed the curtain. She was ready. She was ready for the third sacrifice.
