Death Twenty

Ceres and Myorla lead me out of the main dining room doors and to the left. They take another left turn, traversing a hallway I've never seen. It's smaller than the main hallways with steel blue walls and storm-grey marble floors. Every six hands a golden orb hovered brightening the hallway in soft light.

"The House Dal-Raseay isn't as bad as our groans of protest may indicate. It is only one individual who makes us all dread their visit," Myorla explains.

"Wh-Wh-Who?" I ask. The sound is more reminiscent of an owl than a question.

"Lady Dal-Dal-Raseay," she responds with a palpable shiver.

"She is a crazy o'finren p'eratc whose father keeps trying to marry her off to Lord Jerrath," Ceres interjects, "Last time she had the audacity to commandeer rooms near Lord Jerrath and caring not about the rooms prepared for her. Late night she would sneak into his room, but don't worry he tossed her out."

"Don't forget he tossed her out naked," Myorla adds.

"N-Naked?"