The death of the Grand Duke's son sent shockwaves throughout the noble class. Though it was what was expected, people still thought he could be saved. He had the Saintess at his side, and as such a miracle was expected.
Surely if the holy powers of a Pope could not save a soul from a demonic curse, the magic of a Saintess could!
How awful! That poor father! How could one suffer so much misfortune?
Duke Roelle was a good man.
Duchess Moniqua had been a good woman.
The Young Duke Alexander had been a perfect gentleman.
Why was this their fates?
Why hadn't Lady Felicia been good as well? Was the witch satisfied now?
At this rate, her father might die as well!
What would become of the powerful Dukedom then?
The funeral preparations passed by in a daze for Roelle. He did not remember planning it at all. He was in an almost catatonic state.
It was Tyren and the butler who organized it.
Even before the day of burial, countless flowers and letters of condolences made their way to the manor.
All of nobility, the royal family and the church had sent the broken Del Montague family their deepest, heartfelt sympathies.
Helena just stayed in her room and cried. More than broken over losing the brother who loved her, she also felt ashamed. She was a Saintess! Why hadn't she been able to save Alex? Why hadn't the Goddess saved Alex?
Why was Felicia able to do such damage even after she was dead?! This made no sense! Was there no divine justice?
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A few days later, the gates of Lafyette Cemetery creaked open as numerous families, servants, priests and nuns walked behind the coffin that was being carried by Duke Roelle, Young Marquis Liam, Prince Constantine and Saintess Helena.
Everyone admired the Saintess for her love and selfishness towards her late step brother. It was rare for a lady to be a pallbearer.
Lord Alexander was laid to rest. His casket was lowered into the earth amidst dozens of red, white and pink roses.
The Duke gave no speech as he just wanted this dreadful day and event to be over with.
The Pope was there, hypnotizing everyone around him.
Even Father Demetri struggled to throw off his bizarre new feelings of compliance. He knew something was wrong. Although most people revered the Pope, this recent increase in adoration in light if the circumstances was very strange.
Demetri felt weighed down by a force which was controlling him. Any time a doubt crept up, he felt physically ill. His emotions were confusing. He felt and remembered things that he could now no longer understand.
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The funeral concluded on a slightly cheerful note as the Pope's presence had everyone calmed and charmed into a false sense of security.
And Matthew, despite his newfound power felt wary.
Felicia's curse would continue to manifest. The nature of it was based on her emotions.
It was formed on rage and vengeance.
Tinged with a hint of insanity.
Even at this moment, he felt it trying to pull away from him.
The respective families and clergymen boarded their carriages and departed.
The dazed Duke was escorted to his carriage by his still weeping wife. Even though Alex was not her son by blood, she had grown to love him. He had been an excellent big brother to Helena.
He always supported and defended her.
He completely discarded Felicia and opened his heart to Helena.
Tyren couldn't have been prouder.
The Duke was also always so proud of his son.
And now that was lost as well.
How painful this must be for him!
Tyren didn't care about the pain she caused him when she killed Duchess Moniqua. His first wife was nothing more than competition. A roadblock who stood between her and her ambitions. It was worth it to get rid of her so she and Helena could take their rightful place as Del Montagues.
She didn't even care about all the abuses and manipulations she had subjected Felicia to as it too was necessary for Helena to be made a priority.
Tyren cared for nothing else but her daughter's advancements. Having lived a horrible life as a discarded bastard child, she refused to allow her daughter to settle for anything less than the absolute best.
Being a Saintess, how could Helena be denied anything in life? The Goddess had chosen her! So why did the pesky Felicia think that she could be more important just because she was the Duke's daughter by blood?
Felicia should have just stepped down and allowed Helena to shine.
Since she refused, I had no choice but to dismantle her. And she even dared to bully my precious daughter!? Helena excelled her in every way!
How could Felicia not see how unworthy she was next to her? How could she go so far as trying to kill her?
That wretched child! Even in death she can't just leave us alone!
Tyren kept her gaze on the carriage floor as she and her family made their way back to the manor. She glanced briefly at her daughter who was looking out the window.
Helena has been praying to the Goddess nearly every single day. Surely, this means the Goddess will soon answers her prayers As a Saintess, she holds a much deeper tie to Goddess Kartara than anyone else.
We will be freed from the witch's curse. The three weeks have passed and now we will be able to carry on with our lives.
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Marquis Liam and Prince Constantine had both given beautiful speeches about Alex and were now heading home.
Both felt sick to their stomachs.
The Pope's enchantment was no match for their grief. They couldn't get the witch's face out of their minds. All the vile curses she had spat out at them echoed in their ears.
And for the first time ever, their fury was absent.
Their disgust was absent.
With the pain they felt over the death of their friend, they were left in confusion. They began to recall each interaction they had with Lady Felicia, feeling uneasy and conflicted.
A prominent question popped into their minds.
If Alex's death is the result of a witch's curse being placed on him, then why is Goddess Kartara's statue crying red tears? Her tears have always been related to holy beings.
The birth of a Saintess comes with clear tears.
But red tears? Was that really an omen of danger or was it something else?
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Later that night, after having kissed her daughter goodnight, Tyren was seated in front of her vanity table. She was slowly brushing out her hair. Her eyes were bloodshot and her entire face was flushed. She also felt very weak and dizzy.
Her grief had taken a toll on her.
She climbed into bed and closed her eyes. She felt a throbbing pain in her chest.
All I need is a good night's rest. I haven't been sleeping much lately. Now that the funeral is over, I have to take better care of myself again. Helena needs me to be strong.
Her mind slowly drifted into sleep.
She only dreamt of pleasant things.
Which was in stark contrast with the horror that she was about to be hit with. She should not have closed her eyes. She should not have given in to the temptation of sleep.