36: Massacre; victims of violence
The sight that greeted him made Drystan's blood run cold.
The entire hall of the mansion reeked of blood and death. It was a horrific scene of carnage.
Blood, hot red blood, old brown blood, cold sticky blood. Blood everywhere, not a single corner of the hall was was left untouched by the horror of it.
The cruelty of it.
Drystan's legs shook as he took in the sight of blood and corpses stewn on the floor.
Familiar faces, each and every one of them had been there of the heir when he was young.
Each and every one of them were kind and forgiving, indulgent and stern.
Every single faces—
—All of them splattered with nothing but blood on their faces, nothingness in there eyes.
The old head maid's face was twisted in horror, a shaking sight, the lifeless eyes of a woman he had once considered like a mother to himself.