«CHAPTER 35&36»
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The long stone corridor leading to the palace service quarters was colder than Arabella expected.
The scent of boiled herbs, fresh bread, and iron pots filled the air as they approached the palace kitchen wing.
The chief maid pushed open the heavy wooden door.
Inside, the kitchen was already busy.
Dozens of palace maids moved with disciplined efficiency — washing silverware, preparing evening broth, cutting vegetables under strict supervision.
The sound of knives against wooden boards and low murmuring filled the space.
Arabella stepped inside quietly.
The chief maid turned to face her.
"This is the palace kitchen of Albaton Palace," the woman said. "From today, you will work here."
Arabella bowed slightly.
"My name is Arabella," she said politely. "I am honored to serve."
A few maids glanced at her briefly before returning to their work.
The chief maid studied her for a moment.
She was tall, strict-faced, and carried the quiet authority of someone who had disciplined hundreds of servants.
"I am Mira Thorne," the woman said. "I supervise all kitchen and lower service staff."
She folded her arms.
"You are assigned to morning and night kitchen duty."
Arabella nodded.
"What are my specific tasks, Chief Maid Mira?"
Mira's eyes were sharp.
"You will assist in bread preparation, vegetable cleaning, water storage organization, and table service arrangement during royal meals."
She paused.
"You will not touch royal wine storage."
Arabella answered immediately.
"Yes, Chief Maid."
Mira continued.
"You will wake before sunrise when the palace bell rings."
"If the crown prince—Duncan Tharagon—requires evening meals, you may be summoned."
A faint tension tightened in Arabella's chest.
She kept her expression calm.
"Yes, Chief Maid."
Mira's gaze narrowed slightly.
"Listen carefully, Arabella."
The kitchen noise seemed to quiet a little.
"In this palace, servants who speak too much do not stay alive long."
Arabella inclined her head.
"I understand."
Mira nodded once.
"You will report to the kitchen training supervisor tomorrow."
She gestured toward a group of maids working near the large iron stove.
"Those are your colleagues."
Arabella turned slightly.
The other maids were watching her quietly.
Some curious.
Some wary.
Some openly suspicious.
A younger maid whispered to another, "She looks too calm for a new servant."
The older maid beside her replied softly, "People who survive inside this palace usually learn silence fast."
Arabella pretended not to hear.
Mira spoke again.
"You will sleep in the servant dormitory on the west wing."
"Meals for servants are served after palace nobles finish dining."
Arabella nodded.
"Yes, Chief Maid."
Mira studied her one last time.
Then she said something quietly.
"If you offend the Eclipse Prince, I will not be able to protect you."
Arabella's eyes flickered briefly.
"I will be careful."
Mira turned away.
"Begin washing those copper pots," she ordered.
Arabella walked toward the sink area and picked up a cleaning cloth.
The water was cold.
As she dipped her fingers inside, she thought silently:
The quiet rhythm of the kitchen continued — the clatter of pots, the soft splash of water, and the low murmurs of working maids.
Arabella focused on scrubbing a copper pot slowly and carefully, her movements deliberate.
She was halfway through rinsing the cloth when she noticed someone standing beside her.
A young lady, likely around her age, was watching her.
She had warm brown eyes and a gentle face that carried no hostility.
After a brief moment, the girl spoke.
"Hello."
Arabella paused and turned slightly.
"Hello."
The girl smiled faintly, a little nervous but friendly.
"My name is Lina," she said. "I work here too."
Arabella inclined her head politely.
"I am Arabella."
Lina shifted closer, lowering her voice slightly as if afraid of being overheard.
"You are new, right?"
"Yes."
Lina nodded slowly.
"I saw the chief maid bring you in."
There was a short silence.
Only the sound of water dripping from Arabella's wet fingers broke it.
Then Lina spoke again. "You don't look afraid," she said quietly.
Arabella blinked once.
"Should I be?"
Lina hesitated, then shrugged lightly.
"Most new servants are afraid on their first day."
She glanced around the kitchen.
"Especially in this palace."
Arabella returned her attention to the copper pot.
"I believe fear makes hands shake," Arabella said calmly. "And shaking hands break dishes."
Lina stared at her for a moment… then laughed softly.
It was a small, genuine laugh — careful not to be too loud.
"You are interesting," Lina said.
Another short silence.
Then Lina lowered her voice even more.
"Do you want to be friends?"
Arabella looked at her.
The question was simple.
But inside the palace of Ashkaroth, friendship was never truly simple.
After a heartbeat, Arabella nodded slightly.
"If you are not afraid of trouble," she said quietly, "then yes."
Lina's eyes brightened.
"I am not afraid of trouble," she said. "I am afraid of loneliness."
Arabella said nothing for a moment.
Then she spoke softly.
"In this palace… loneliness is common."
Lina leaned closer.
"Then we can be lonely together."
Arabella did not smile immediately.
But after a brief pause, the corner of her lips lifted faintly.
It was not a palace smile, not a noble smile.
Just the quiet, human smile of a girl trying to survive inside a dangerous kingdom.
Arabella suddenly caught a faint sensation — a chill crawling slowly across her skin. Her gaze dropped to her arm, where the fine hairs had subtly risen, and small beads of sweat had begun forming along her forearms.
Her eyes shifted toward the doorway.
Melissa stood there, glaring at her with intense hostility.
The moment their eyes met, however, Melissa immediately looked away and turned, leaving the kitchen entrance without another word.
"That is Melissa, the late Queen's personal maid," Lina whispered beside Arabella.
Arabella shifted her gaze toward her briefly before looking away and continuing to wash the dishes.
A faint, dark smirk curled slowly at the corner of her lips.
A cobra hidden inside the palace.
And the late Queen's personal maid — Melissa. Her smirk deepened slightly.
Arabella continued washing the dishes slowly, her movements calm and controlled. After a brief silence, she spoke quietly without looking up.
"Lina," she said, her voice soft, almost casual, "how long has Melissa served in the palace?"
Lina hesitated for a moment before answering.
"Since the late Queen was alive," she replied. "She was the Queen's closest maid… some say she knows many of the royal family's private matters."
Arabella nodded slightly, her fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around the cleaning cloth.
"Is she respected here?" Arabella asked.
Lina lowered her voice.
"Not exactly," she said. "Most servants fear her more than respect her."
Arabella's eyes narrowed faintly.
"And why is that?" she asked.
Lina glanced around briefly before continuing.
"She reports directly to the palace inner circle," Lina whispered. "If she dislikes someone, that person often disappears from kitchen duty… sometimes from the palace entirely."
Arabella hummed softly, as if considering the information.
"Interesting," she murmured.
After a pause, she asked one more question.
"Does she have any connection to the crown prince's affairs?"
Lina shook her head slightly.
"No one speaks of that openly," she said. "But people believe she watches everyone."
Arabella's lips curved faintly.
"I see," she said quietly.
She returned to washing the copper plate in her hand, her movements unhurried, her expression calm — but behind her composed gaze, calculation was already settling like winter dust.
Perhaps, just maybe, coming into this palace is not such a bad idea after all. She would have to inform Kealric… or would it be better to handle it in her own way?
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The stone guardroom inside Albaton Palace was dimly lit, filled with the scent of polished steel, leather armor, and faint wood smoke from the wall torches.
Rows of weapons were neatly arranged along the stone walls — spears, short swords, and ceremonial guard shields bearing the Ashkaroth crest.
Prince Kealric stood straight in the center of the room.
His expression was calm.
Unreadable.
The weight of the earlier confrontation still lingered faintly in his chest, but he showed none of it.
The heavy wooden door creaked open.
A tall man entered.
His armor was darker than the other guards', marked with silver lines indicating authority. His eyes were sharp but not hostile.
"I am Captain Harlan, head guard of Albaton Palace," the man said.
Kealric inclined his head slightly. "Pleasure to serve under your command."
Captain Harlan studied him for a moment before nodding once.
"You fight well," Harlan said. "The arena report reached us before you did."
Kealric did not respond immediately.
Praise inside this palace often carried invisible chains.
After a heartbeat, he replied simply, "I only did what was required."
Harlan grunted softly.
"Good answer."
He turned slightly and gestured toward the other guards standing nearby.
"These are your future colleagues."
The guards watched Kealric with varying expressions — curiosity, skepticism, and in one corner, mild amusement.
One young guard, barely older than twenty, scratched the back of his head.
"So… you really killed that boar?" the young guard asked.
"Yes," Kealric said calmly.
Another guard leaned forward. "With one spear?"
"Two strikes," Kealric corrected.
A second guard whistled softly. "They said you moved like a battlefield knight. Were you trained in the royal army?"
Kealric paused briefly.
"I have fought in many places."
The answer was neither yes nor no.
Captain Harlan folded his arms.
"You are not talkative."
"I prefer listening," Kealric replied.
One of the older guards snorted. "Smart man. Talking too much inside this palace gets people killed."
Silence settled briefly.
Then a younger guard suddenly asked, "Do you like fish soup?"
The question was so unexpected that two other guards turned to stare at him.
Kealric blinked once.
Then answered, "If it is properly seasoned."
The young guard nodded seriously. "Good. The palace kitchen sometimes forgets salt."
Someone coughed to hide laughter. Captain Harlan rubbed his temple.
"Enough foolish questions."
He walked closer to Kealric.
"You are assigned night guard rotation near the eastern palace corridor starting tomorrow."
Kealric bowed slightly. "Understood."
Harlan's gaze sharpened.
"Listen carefully, new guard."
His voice lowered.
"In this palace, you guard not only doors… but secrets."
Kealric did not speak.
"Do not ask what you are guarding," Harlan continued. "Do not try to know why."
Kealric replied quietly, "I am here to serve, not to question."
Harlan studied him again.
After a long pause, he nodded once.
"Good."
One of the guards suddenly spoke again.
"Hey, newcomer."
Kealric turned slightly.
"If the crown prince orders you to fight a monster tomorrow, will you fight?"
Kealric's eyes darkened faintly.
"Yes."
The guard scratched his chin. "Even if it's bigger than the boar?"
"Yes."
Another guard laughed quietly.
"Why are you so confident?"
Kealric answered without pride.
"Because hesitation kills faster than blades."The room fell silent for a moment. Captain Harlan exhaled slowly.
"Dismissed."
Kealric bowed once more before stepping toward the exit. As he reached the door, one of the guards called after him.
"Hey!"
Kealric stopped but did not turn fully.
"Don't die too quickly," the guard said. "People who fight well are hard to replace."
A faint, almost invisible smile touched Kealric's lips.
"I will remember that."
He pushed the heavy wooden door open and stepped into the cold palace corridor.
The stone hallway stretched long and quiet under dim blue torchlight, the air carrying the faint scent of old marble and distant incense from the inner palace.
His boots made almost no sound.
Then suddenly—A hand grabbed his. Kealric's body went completely still.
The reaction was not dramatic, but something in his posture changed in an instant — a soldier's instinct awakening beneath the calm exterior.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head. A young guard stood beside him, breathing slightly heavily, as if he had run to catch up.
Kealric's gaze dropped to the hand still gripping his sleeve.
The guard noticed.
His fingers jerked away immediately.
"Forgive me!" the young man said quickly.
Kealric swallowed once, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. In Morazana, no one dared to touch him without permission.
Anyone who tried… would not live long enough to regret it.
But this was Ashkaroth.
Different rules.
Different chains.
The young guard straightened nervously.
"I'm Draven," he said hurriedly. "I watched your performance. How you and your colleague killed the boar."
He paused. "I… wanted to speak with you."
Kealric studied him silently.
Draven looked younger than most guards — perhaps around eighteen or nineteen — with slightly messy brown hair and eyes that carried earnest curiosity rather than suspicion.
"And?" Kealric asked calmly.
Draven inhaled.
"I wanted to say… I admire your fighting."
Silence followed.
The corridor torches flickered softly.
Draven scratched the back of his back and continued quickly, as if afraid he would be interrupted.
"I just… wanted to tell you that inside this palace, many people pretend kindness but hide knives behind smiles."
He lowered his voice.
"You don't look like one of them."
Kealric did not answer immediately.
Draven added softly, almost shyly, "So… I thought you should know someone here doesn't see you as suspicious yet."
Kealric's fingers tightened faintly around the spear shaft he carried.
"And?" Kealric muttered coldly.
Draven swallowed hard and fell instantly silent, sensing that the man before him had no intention of continuing the conversation.
Seeing this, Kealric turned and began walking away.
Draven scratched the back of his neck, staring at Kealric's retreating figure.
"He has the chilling aura of that wicked prince of Morazana," Draven muttered. "Goodness, so terrifying. I honestly don't know which of them is scarier—him or Duncan. Definitely Duncan… yes, Duncan is crazier."
He shook his head repeatedly before turning away, exhaling slowly.
After a few steps, he paused and glanced back once more at Kealric's figure.
A faint smile touched his lips as he scratched his head.
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Thailra's Chamber
"Why are your legs wobbling like that? What is the nervousness for?" Thailra Alvarez asked quietly, her gaze falling on Sylara.
Sylara's legs were trembling badly.
She nodded repeatedly, her entire body shaking as she struggled to maintain composure under Thailra's piercing yet calm presence.
"You don't need to be afraid," she said, her voice low, almost a whisper, yet carrying the weight of command. "I am not here to punish you."
Sylara's shoulders trembled, and she lowered her gaze, unable to meet Thailra's stare.
"I… I just—" Sylara began, her voice quivering, "I didn't mean to… I just…"
Thailra stepped closer, the soft rustle of her robes echoing in the quiet chamber. She extended a hand, not in threat, but in reassurance.
"Breathe," Thailra said gently. "You are safe here. You serve me, yes, but loyalty does not come from fear alone."
Sylara hesitated for a heartbeat, then allowed herself to inhale slowly, trying to calm the shaking that wracked her body.
Thailra's gaze darkened slightly, though her voice remained calm.
"Tell me," she said slowly, "what truly happened when the late queen was bitten by the snake?"
The question fell into the chamber like a stone sinking into still water.
Sylara's entire body stiffened.
Her trembling worsened, and her fingers twisted slightly in the fabric of her sleeves.
"I… I was not inside the inner chamber that night, my lady," Sylara said hurriedly, her voice thin and strained.
Thailra did not interrupt her.
"But," Sylara continued after a moment, swallowing hard, "the servants said it was a black cobra that slipped into the queen's resting hall during the midnight watch."
The room seemed colder as she spoke.
"The healer said the bite was sudden… and the poison spread quickly before antidote herbs could be prepared."
Sylara lowered her head further.
"They said the queen's breathing became weak before dawn," she added quietly.
Thailra's expression did not change, but her silver eyes grew deeper, sharper, as if measuring something unseen.
"And the snake?" Thailra asked.
Sylara's hands tightened.
"The palace guards searched the royal gardens," she replied, voice barely above a whisper. "But they never found the snake again."
Thailra was silent for a long moment.
"The queen's personal maid who served her… she is said to still work here," Thailra said, her voice low and deliberate.
"What is her name? And… tell me exactly what part she played when the queen was bitten by the cobra."
Sylara's breath hitched, her chest tightening as if the air itself had turned heavy.
She wished the ground would open beneath her and swallow her whole. Hot sweat dripped down her cheeks, and her body trembled violently, shaking more with each passing second.
Thailra's silver gaze never wavered.
She watched Sylara with unblinking intensity, and a faint, almost imperceptible smirk curled at the corner of her lips—light, but sharp, like the edge of a blade.
Sylara's lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Her fingers clenched tightly into the fabric of her sleeves as her mind raced.
"The… the queen's personal maid…" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Her name is Melissa."
The moment the name left her mouth, the air inside the chamber seemed to freeze.
Thailra's expression did not change, she only tilted her head slightly.
"And?" Thailra said softly. "Continue."
Sylara swallowed hard.
"When the queen was bitten by the cobra, Melissa was the one who was closest to the royal chamber."
Her shoulders trembled.
"She said the queen collapsed suddenly… that the snake was found near the window curtains."
Thailra's fingers moved slowly across the carved armrest beside her.
"Did she try to save the queen?"
Sylara's eyes dropped to the floor.
"…No, my lady."
Silence followed, the kind of silence that pressed against the chest like an unseen hand tightening slowly.
Thailra's gaze sharpened.
"Explain."
Sylara's voice cracked slightly.
"She… she said the queen's condition was already beyond help."
Thailra leaned back slightly.
"And you believe her?"
Sylara's knees almost buckled.
"I— I do not know, my lady."
Another pause.
Thailra's smile returned — faint, cold, and deeply calculating.
"Tell me something else."
Sylara's breath shook.
"…Yes, my lady?"
"What kind of cobra was it?"
Sylara's eyes widened faintly. "The… palace records said it was a Venom Crown Cobra."
Thailra's lashes lowered slowly.
"Interesting."
Her fingers stopped moving. Outside the chamber window, the desert wind whispered against stone walls.
"Go on," Thailra said quietly.
"Tell me everything Melissa did after the queen died."
Sylara's entire body froze.
Her throat moved as she swallowed again.
"She… she remained in the palace."
"And?" Thailra pressed.
"She became the late queen's personal legacy servant."
Thailra's lips curved slightly.
"And the cobra?"
Sylara's voice dropped to a terrified whisper.
"The snake was never found." The air inside the chamber grew heavier.
Thailra closed her eyes briefly.
Then opened them again.
"Thank you, Sylara."
Sylara bowed instantly, relief and terror mixing in her chest.
"But remember this," Thailra added softly.
Sylara froze. "If you ever lie to me in this chamber…"
Silence stretched.
"I will personally decide whether you live to regret it."
Sylara's trembling intensified.
"Yes… my lady."
Sylara stumbled down the cold corridor, her hands pressed against her face as sobs shook her small frame.
Each step echoed faintly against the stone walls, but she barely noticed. The thought of Melissa's wrath gnawed at her—Melissa, the late queen's personal maid, the serpent who had taken lives without hesitation.
If she finds out… if she knows… I'm dead.
Her breath came in ragged gasps.
Hot tears burned her cheeks, and her knees threatened to buckle beneath the weight of fear.
She pressed on, desperate to put distance between herself and the chamber, between herself and the secrets she'd been forced to guard.
The shadows along the corridor seemed to twist as if alive, and Sylara's mind conjured visions of Melissa's cold, calculating glare.
She pressed a trembling hand against the wall, hoping it would ground her, keep her from running blindly.
I can't let her find out. I can't…
Her sobs grew louder, echoing off the stone, until finally she ducked into a small alcove, crouching against the cold floor.
Her body shook, heart pounding, each breath a desperate prayer that the serpent's shadow had not yet caught up with her.
The palace itself seemed silent, as if holding its breath.
But Sylara knew better.
Somewhere in the the palace Melissa's presence lingered like a coiled threat, patient, inevitable, and deadly.
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The corridor of the eastern palace wing was quiet except for the soft, measured sound of Kealric's boots against the marble floor.
The night duty had begun.
Kealric stood near the large arched window overlooking the inner palace garden, his spear resting lightly beside him as he kept watch.
The wind drifting from the garden carried the faint scent of night flowers and distant desert air.
Above, hidden behind a carved stone balcony screen, Princess Cassandra stood quietly watching him.
She was not hiding with the intent of spying.
Rather, she was observing — the way a royal observer studies a warrior's conduct.
Kealric did not fidget.
He did not pace.
He stood straight, eyes scanning the corridor entrances with calm vigilance.
A guard rotated past him once, nodded respectfully, and continued walking.
Kealric returned the nod.
Efficient.
Professional.
No unnecessary conversation.
Cassandra's lips curved slightly.
"He does not waste movement," she murmured. Down below, a servant accidentally dropped a small metal tray near the corridor junction.
The loud clang echoed briefly. Kealric turned immediately. Not aggressively. Not slowly.
Instant. Controlled.
His hand touched the spear shaft, but he did not draw it.
Seeing that it was only a nervous young maid gathering scattered utensils, he released the tension in his posture.
The shift was subtle.
Almost invisible.
But Cassandra noticed it. He checks threat before reacting, she thought.
Battle discipline.
A group of palace guards walked past and whispered among themselves. Kealric did not turn his head.
But his eyes moved slightly, registering their presence. Then he resumed watching the corridor.
Cassandra's fan rested gently against her fingers.
"He is good," she said softly.
Not loudly. Not with admiration.
Simply as a fact.
Below, Kealric adjusted his grip on the spear once, a small movement to keep his hand from becoming stiff.
The moonlight filtering through the corridor windows touched his dark hair and the sharp line of his jaw.
He looked almost carved from stone and silence.
Cassandra watched him for several more moments.
"Do you like him, my princess?" a voice asked suddenly.
Cassandra let out a bright smile, her eyes still fixed on Kealric.
"Is it obvious?" she replied, then froze. Her eyes widened as she realized who was speaking. She turned to see Melissa, who smiled widely and bowed with practiced respect.
"I can help you… and get him, my princess," Melissa said, her grin never faltering.
Cassandra blinked repeatedly, glancing first at Kealric, then back at Melissa. Melissa nodded eagerly, her intent clear.
Meanwhile, not far away, Duncan stood with his arms folded behind his back, the evening breeze ruffling his hair.
Beside him, his personal guard remained silent, head bowed in deference.
Duncan's piercing eyes were fixed on the two of them from a distance, a silent calculation brewing. Perhaps it was time he paid a visit to Giantica to ask a few pointed questions.
Duncan turned his head slowly toward his personal guard.
"Bring the girl in blue to my chamber," Duncan said quietly.
The guard bowed without uttering a word before leaving to carry out the order.
Duncan turned and walked away. As the breeze brushed past him, strands of his hair fell loosely over his shoulder, partially covering his face and leaving only one piercing ocean-like eye visible.
At the corner of his lips, a faint smirk curled slowly, dark and knowing.
*
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«DUNCAN—CHAMBER»
The heavy oak doors of Duncan's chamber closed silently behind him.
The chamber was vast and dimly lit, illuminated only by floating blue palace flames that burned steadily inside carved obsidian lamps.
The air carried the faint scent of cold cedarwood and something darker — something ancient that seemed to follow him wherever he went.
Duncan walked slowly toward the center of the chamber.
His cloak moved like a shadow trailing behind him.
He did not sit.
He waited.
His arms were folded behind him. It was truly time to bring everything to an end — to make his enemies beg for their miserable lives at his feet. His eyes were darker than his heart.
Outside the chamber, Melissa stood smiling widely beside the guard escorting her to the prince's chamber.
Could it be that her dream was about to come true?
The prince was suddenly taking an interest in her. She would be the next Moon to rule Ashkaroth.
The thought made her smile deepen, her heart racing with excitement as she walked carefully beside the guard.
The guard approached the heavy, carved doors of Duncan's chamber and stopped. Melissa straightened, her smile now a mixture of anticipation and pride.
"Your Highness," the guard announced in a firm voice, "we have brought Miss Melissa as requested."
Melissa's chest swelled with excitement as she stepped forward slightly, bowing her head respectfully.
Duncan's voice came from within the chamber, calm but commanding: "Enter."
The guard stepped aside, and Melissa walked in slowly, her eyes fixed on the prince.
The room seemed to shrink around her, the faint scent of incense and polished stone filling the air.
She could feel Duncan's gaze on her, heavy and piercing, and for a moment, she almost forgot to breathe.
The guard left the room, and the door clicked shut gently behind him.
Melissa pressed her lips together, keeping her head lowered. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest.
She heard footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Approaching.
Duncan began walking toward her, and she swallowed hard, forcing a faint, hopeful smile onto her face.
Was he, perhaps, coming to kiss her?
Or was he about to propose marriage, to make her his bride during the next Eclipse ceremony that would soon be held?
The footsteps stopped.
Silence filled the chamber, thick and heavy.
Melissa slowly lifted her gaze, her smile still carefully held in place, though her fingers trembled slightly beneath her sleeves.
Duncan stood before her.
Close.
Far too close for comfort.
His silver eyes studied her face with cold, quiet calculation, as though she were an object he was inspecting rather than a woman standing before him.
Melissa's chest tightened with excitement she tried desperately to hide.
"My lord…" she said softly.
Duncan did not return the greeting.
Instead, he spoke first.
"You are the maid who served my mother when she was still alive," Duncan said. "I want you to tell me every detail of what happened the night she was bitten by the snake — the errands you were running at the time, everyone who attended to her when she fell critically ill, and the role you played while she was sick."
His voice grew colder.
"I want every single detail. The exact time each person came to visit her. The antidote the Serpenthis clan provided that failed to save her. Every record that exists — I want to hear it from your own mouth."
Duncan's gaze hardened, his piercing eyes fixed on her like blades.
"And be very careful with your words," he added darkly. "Because if you make even the smallest mistake… death will not be an option."
Slowly, Melissa's fists clenched.
Her hands began to tremble slightly, and beads of sweat formed along her forehead under the weight of his stare.
She's dead..
*
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TBC