Born for silk

To Tuscany’s old room—the room we both died in—before she moved into the Queen’s wing. The night she was carved open, I remember the agony in my abdomen, remember how sleep spun me, hurt me, tossed me around. I should have woken up. I should have known… She was calling to me. To make my way to her. To save her.

I scowl at the patched bricks several meters before it, from when I crushed the skulls of two Guards trying to stop me from getting to her.

Nevertheless, I was too late…

I open the door and head outside.

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