Eira's pov
The garden stretched before me like a graveyard. Stone benches draped in ivy, black roses blooming where sunlight didn't dare to fall, and the scent of ash still clinging to the breeze like an old ghost. I walked slowly, deliberately, as if every step was a declaration of war.
The guards shifted when they saw me, their eyes darting nervously, boots clicking together in forced respect. They cleared a path without a word, though their silence was louder than a gunshot. I wasn't the girl in chains anymore. I had become something else. Something they didn't understand. Something they feared.
"La signora della morte," I heard one of the servants whisper under their breath as I passed.
The Lady of Death.
They thought I didn't hear. But I did. I always do.
And I didn't deny it.
I wore their fear like armor. Let it settle around my shoulders and weigh down my footsteps. Let them remember what I was forced to become in this house of monsters.
But even monsters bleed.
