Daybreak came without mercy.
The sun rose over the Andrea estate not as a blessing, but as an accusation—its pale light spilling across scorched stone and blackened walls, revealing what the darkness of night had tried to hide. Smoke still lingered in the air, thin and bitter, clinging to the mansion like a ghost that refused to leave. The scent of ash mixed with iron blood that had been scrubbed, yet never truly erased, nelly wakes finding Mariah besides her, she called the young master's name in a fragile tone but Mariah said reaction tells her what she wanted to know, nelly grieved in shock.
The estate was silent.
Not the peaceful kind of silence that noble houses wore at dawn, but a hollow one—broken, uncertain, afraid to breathe too loudly lest it disturb what had already been lost.
Carriages rolled to a halt before the main gates.
The Andrea family had returned.
Lord Andrea stepped down first, his boots touching the stone with measured calm. Lady Andrea followed closely, her hands clasped tightly together, knuckles pale beneath her gloves. Dave descended after them, eyes sharp and restless, while Sly clung to her mother's side, confused by the weight pressing down on everyone around her.
None of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
The mansion before them was… wrong.
Parts of the outer structure were burned black, windows shattered or boarded hastily. Bloodstains—dark and stubborn—marked the courtyard stones despite attempts to clean them away. Guards stood at attention, but fewer than should have been present. Far fewer.
Too few.
Lord Andrea's gaze swept over the scene, taking in every detail with cold precision. The absence of voices. The missing servants. The tension hanging in the air like a drawn blade.
"What happened?" he asked at last.
A guard stepped forward, swallowing hard before answering.
"We were attacked last night, my lord."
The words fell like a stone dropped into still water.
Lady Andrea's breath caught sharply. Dave's jaw tightened. Sly looked up, sensing fear but unable to understand it.
"Where is Seth?" Lady Andrea asked immediately, her voice sharp, cutting through the silence like glass.
The guard hesitated.
Before he could answer, Sir Grunt stepped forward, armor still bearing the marks of soot and dried blood. He knelt respectfully, fist to chest.
"My lord… my lady," he said solemnly. "I request permission to report in private. The matter… concerns the attack."
Lord Andrea studied him for a long moment, then nodded.
"The meeting hall," he said. "Now."
The Report
The meeting hall was one of the few areas left relatively untouched by fire, though even here the damage was evident. Chairs were overturned, tapestries torn down, and the long table bore scratches where blades had scraped wood.
Sir Grunt stood before them, posture straight but shoulders heavy.
He spoke slowly.
Carefully.
He recounted everything he had learned from the surviving guards—how the assassins had breached the estate under cover of darkness, how diversions had been set across the grounds, how fires had been deliberately lit to spread confusion.
He spoke of screams in the corridors. Of steel flashing in firelight. Of guards falling before they could even raise an alarm.
Then he told them what he had witnessed when he arrived.
The sealed hallway. The flames consuming Seth's quarters. Nelly collapsed, bleeding but alive. The body—what was left of it.
Lady Andrea's hands trembled as she listened.
Dave's eyes darkened with every word.
Sly sat quietly, feet swinging slightly, unaware that her world was already beginning to crack.
Lord Andrea remained silent.
Not a single muscle in his face shifted.
Only when Sir Grunt finished did Lady Andrea speak again.
"I want to see him," she said. "Now."
Lord Andrea opened his mouth, as if to say something—perhaps to delay, perhaps to prepare her—but Sir Grunt bowed his head deeply.
"…Very well," he said.
Seth's Quarters
The walk to Seth's chambers felt endless.
Servants lowered their heads as the family passed. Some turned away entirely. Others watched with pity that cut deeper than any blade.
Sir Grunt stopped before the door.
It was warped from heat, edges blackened and cracked.
He pushed it open.
The room beyond was no longer a room.
It was a ruin.
Charcoal-black walls. Collapsed furniture. Ash piled thick across the floor. The air inside was suffocating, heavy with the lingering stench of burnt fabric and flesh.
Lady Andrea froze at the threshold.
Lord Andrea stepped inside.
Sir Grunt led them forward, each step echoing softly in the devastation.
Then he stopped.
"There," he said quietly.
On the floor near the bed lay the remains.
A skeleton, blackened by fire, fragile and incomplete.
Lord Andrea approached it slowly.
He knelt.
And then—without hesitation—he reached down and lifted the skull into his hands.
Lady Andrea gasped.
Dave felt his chest tighten painfully.
Lord Andrea turned the skull slightly, examining it with a gaze that missed nothing.
There—along the side—was a deep, unmistakable cut.
A blade mark.
One he recognized.
The same wound Seth had suffered once before.
The same place.
The implication was undeniable.
Lady Andrea saw it.
And that was when she broke.
She collapsed to the floor, her scream tearing through the ruins.
"No—no, not my Seth!" she cried, clawing at the ash-stained stone. "It can't be! I don't believe this—this isn't him! It can't be!"
Her sobs echoed painfully off the blackened walls.
Dave stood frozen, staring at the remains with horror and disbelief twisting inside him. He did not speak. He could not.
The truth did not need words.
Sly tugged at her mother's sleeve, frightened.
"Mummy…?" she asked softly. "Why are you crying?"
No one answered.
Guards gently lifted the child, escorting her away before she could see more than she already had.
Lady Andrea's cries faded into broken sobs.
Lord Andrea stood slowly, the skull still in his hands.
Without a word, he turned and left the room.
Sir Grunt followed.
Dave remained behind.
Alone.
Surrounded by ashes and regret.
The Lord's Chambers
Lord Andrea entered his office and closed the door behind him.
He approached his desk and placed the skull down gently, as if afraid to damage it further.
For a long moment, he simply stood there.
Then
"If I had been here," he said quietly, his voice trembling for the first time. "If I had returned sooner… none of this would have happened." Sir Grunt said,silently behind him.
"What of his attendant?" Lord Andrea asked.
"She still lives," Sir Grunt replied. "Barely."
Lord Andrea exhaled sharply.
"Leave me."
Sir Grunt bowed slightly y and withdrew.
The door closed.
And then
The air in the room shifted.
An invisible pressure surged outward as Lord Andrea's restrained fury finally cracked. His aura flared, unseen but unmistakable, rattling shelves and sending papers fluttering to the floor.
Outside, clouds gathered unnaturally fast.
The sky darkened.
A storm was coming.
And somewhere far below
The world believed Seth Andreas was dead.
But silence had only just begun.