Cynthia watched in breathless anticipation as Antonio leaned over Matilda. Every motion he made was slow, deliberate, and filled with an eerie calm that contrasted sharply with the chaos that had overtaken the ward only moments before. He reached into his small brown satchel, and drew out a faded pouch tied with a fraying cord. The scent that escaped when he loosened it was unlike anything Cynthia had ever smelled—earthy and sharp, like rain-soaked soil mingled with iron and something faintly sweet. Inside were crushed herbs and dried leaves, glinting faintly under the harsh fluorescent light. Their color shifted between green and bronze, giving off a faint metallic sheen that caught the eye.The nurses hesitated nearby, exchanging uncertain looks. None of them recognized what Antonio was doing, yet none dared to interrupt. His presence had a quiet authority that demanded obedience without a single word.Antonio took a small portion of the crushed herbs and mixed them carefully i

Cynthia leaned forward, curious. Antonio stayed silent but alert, his sharp gaze fixed on Matilda. The air in the room seemed to thicken with mystery and anticipation, as though something long buried was about to come to light.Matilda’s wrinkled fingers trembled slightly as she worked on the last knot of the old cloth bundle. The sound of the unraveling string echoed faintly in the quiet room. When the final knot came undone, a glimmer of light caught Cynthia’s eyes. It was foil—bright, shiny, and reflective, catching every streak of sunlight that filtered through the window.Matilda unwrapped it slowly, carefully, as if handling something sacred. Inside the foil were several small, dried herbs, each meticulously packed and pressed together. The faint scent of earth and age rose from them, sharp yet strangely soothing, as if time itself lingered in the aroma.Cynthia frowned, her brows knitting in confusion. “What is this?” she asked softly, her voice breaking the hush.Matilda di

The house was in complete disarray when Antonio and Cynthia stepped through the door. Shouts echoed through the wide hallway, women were crying, and men stood arguing in corners while servants rushed back and forth, unsure of what to do.The air was heavy with panic — it smelled of fear, sickness, and confusion all tangled into one unbearable stench.Cynthia’s heart pounded as she scanned the faces around the room, most of whom were her relatives or neighbors who had gathered after hearing that her mother’s condition had worsened. The moment she entered, several of them rushed toward her, speaking all at once, asking questions, blaming one another, and crowding her until she could hardly breathe.“Please!” she shouted, raising her hands. “Everyone, calm down! Please, just give us space!”Her voice, though trembling, carried a tone of authority that silenced the chaos for a brief second. “Let us attend to her. I’m begging you — please step aside. Just let us help her!”There was he

The moment Marianne fell back onto her bed, the entire room turned deathly still. Her body went limp, her head lolled to the side, and the color drained from her skin so completely that it looked like all the life had been sucked out of her in an instant. For a heartbeat, no one breathed. The ticking of the clock on the far wall became deafening, its rhythm echoing through the heavy silence.Then the whispers began—faint at first, then swelling into panic like a tide breaking against the shore.“She’s gone…” someone muttered from the corner, voice quivering.A second later, another voice broke through the stunned quiet. “He’s killed her!”That was all it took. The room erupted into chaos.Several of the servants gasped aloud and stumbled backward, knocking into furniture as they tried to flee. One young maid screamed, clutching at her apron as she bolted for the door. A few of the older relatives rose from their chairs in disbelief, hands trembling, eyes darting from the still figur

“What is that?” Cynthia asked, frowning, when she noticed Antonio staring at the sheet.Antonio bent down, picking it up gently between his fingers. His eyes narrowed. “It’s a note,” he murmured. The texture was coarse and unnatural. Turning it over, he froze.There, etched into the surface with dark ink, was a strange circular emblem—a mark that seemed to twist and shimmer faintly, like it was alive.Antonio’s heart stopped. His throat tightened, and his pulse quickened violently.“Antonio?” Cynthia’s voice came softly, curious but concerned.He didn’t answer. The mark blurred before his eyes, memories flooding back with brutal force—his mother’s lifeless body lying on the ground, and that same mark, burned into the skin of her arm like a cruel brand.His breath came short. For a moment, the room seemed to spin.“Antonio!” Cynthia’s voice pulled him back. He blinked rapidly and turned to her, his jaw clenched. “What is it?” she asked again, her voice trembling now.Wordlessly, Anton