Chapter 34 | It's Over

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Elena's P.O.V.

Today was going to be a good day; it was finally summer break, and I was going to use most of my break in the 16th century. I was ecstatic about today's piano lesson with Francis. He was finally going to teach me some advanced technics, sharing the secrecy of playing in a harmonic tune.

Besides, later in the evening, I would be visiting Ethan in the castle. He promised to show me the library, and in return, I pledged to play his favorite composition, Mariage D'Amour.

Today is going to be a great day.

A smile was brought into the theater, carried all the way to the stage room. However, the gleam was strangled. The disquiet air sucked all of the dancing joy, pulling it to the black hole where it vanished.

My presence had barely warmed the room, yet, I could feel the poison in the atmosphere, the obnoxiousness sneaking to my nose and lungs.

It was too quiet. Too cold. Too thick.

Although the theater is abandoned, it is far from lifeless. Never has a day passed without winds birthing music, creaking planks synching in harmony, and a laughing gleam from time to time.

However, it was different today. The theater was speechless, almost as if it was holding its breath. And yet, it did not feel like my soulless house.

"Francis?" His name was built on anxiousness, the tones coming from the unresting fear beating inside my chest. I hoped for a quick response, but only my shadow replied. "Frans, are you here?"

Why am I so jittery?

Suddenly, there was a sound: a grunt. The faint groan came from the scene, yet, I could not see anyone standing there.

"Hello?" I slipped my shoulder bag off, gently placing it on one of the red seats as I walked deeper into the heart of the room. "Hey, what is- Francis!"

My feet ran to the monk, quickly trying to awake his static body that was wrapped in wounds. He was laying on the cold, hard ground, moaning in pain as he tried to wake up from the unconsciousness.

A gasp of horror left my lips when I saw how bruised and beaten his face was, the sight almost bringing tears to my eyes. "Francis, what happened?" I tore my hood off me, quickly making a pillow for his head. Without hesitation, I checked for the rest of his injuries, finding it difficult to not tremble. "Oh, Francis. . ."

His lips were bleeding, painting his teeth red. The right eye was blackened and shut closed, shielding his brilliant gray orbs from the world. A cut on his forehead dripped with blood, soaking through the ripped piece of clothing I gently pressed against his skin.

The touch on his chest caused him to flinch, and although the contact was faint and swift, I could still feel the broken ribs.

Not only was he swaying between consciousness and darkness, but he trembled in ache, tears threatening to spill.

It was a nightmare. I felt tormented to see such kind and beautiful person breathe air of pain. The sight would forever scar my mind.

"We need to get you to a doctor," I looked around, hoping desperately that someone would help. "Francis, stay with me, I'll get you some medical-"

Without a warning, he pushed my hand away, using the little of his strength to fill his silent words.

I frowned, "Francis? What are you-"

"Go," his voice was raw and hoarse, and the simple word was shaking with fear, quickly followed by a painfilled spasm. He coughed, spitting drops of blood. "You need to leave, Elena. Go." Francis pushed me away again, but his arms held no power.

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