Chapter 35

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The night was dark and cold, and the jail cell would be even colder. Surrounded by three stone walls and sets of iron bars, and only a small window that lets cold air and moonlight enter on top of her. Monica Blackheart, the leader of Black Moon, hugged her knee tight as she tried to stave off the cold. The dusty rag full of mites and soot on top of her shoulder was uncomfortable and made her skin itch, but such treatment is to be expected for someone who have killed many. Thoughts of it being too light of a punishment crosses her mind every now and then.

"Get out! It's your turn to be questioned." A rough looking guard threw the door open, and it made her heart jump out of fear. She slowly stood up, and walked out of the barren cell. "I don't know why the young master from the Redfate family spared you, but be ready for the gallows." The guard's words was oozing with malice and hatred, and it sent chill down her spine. She closed her eyes as the guard shackled her arms with enchanted bronze cuffs, and roughly pushes her from behind.

The walk towards the interrogation room was deafeningly silent. If not for the guards' and her footsteps, she could probably hear her heart thump inside her chest. She had steeled herself for whatever punishment the kingdom will give her, but in her heart, she wished to at least see the face of her brother once more, even if it is when she walked to the gallows. "We're here." The guards stopped in front of a slightly rusted iron door. The door creaked loudly as rust hinders it from opening easily, and Monica was pushed into the room. Before the door closes, Monica saw one of the guard's hate-filled gaze as he spat on the ground, disgusted by her very being.

Her eyes had lost all hope as she walked towards the wooden chair. She sat down, her gaze fixed on her feet the entire time. "Monica Blackheart. Look at me." Monica slowly raised her head, as if it was filled with lead, and she was met with a pair of amber eyes. The boy sitting in front of her was not the captain of the guards, but Trace Redfate himself. Out of fear, her gaze shifted back to her feet. "Did you not hear me, Monica Blackheart? I told you to look at me." Again, she raised her head, high enough for her to look at him in the eye, but low enough to hide her terrified expression.

Trace straightened his posture, and folded his hands on top of the wooden table. "Well, it's fine. Now then..." Trace slid his hand under his coat, and took out a rather old parchment. Monica immediately recognized it, for it bears her fallen family's insignia. "It took me a lot of time and money to get my hands on this, so do me a favor, and read it out loud." Monica nodded, her neck stiff from fear and nervousness, and slowly reached out towards the parchment. She took it, and read the contents out loud as instructed. "Do you not want to avenge your family? If so, every full moon, go to the waterfall, where many Lion's Maw flowers grow. There, one of us will give you information regarding those that brings your family harm. I trust you are wise enough to know what you should do..."

Trace tapped his index finger on the table. Even though it was not loud, it was enough to make Monica to almost jump out of her chair. "The insignia was what instigated you, wasn't it?" Monica's eyes ran through the parchment once more, and nodded. "I see..." Again, Trace slid his hand underneath his coat, and took out another item. This time, it was a stamp. The stamp itself was not something out of the ordinary, but Monica recognized the insignia carved on the stamp. Trace picked up her change of expression, and sighed. "This little thing here cost me around 50 silver Sverd. Of course, I bought this from some... unsavory character." Trace put the stamp in front of her, and rested his elbow on the table, his hands folded and his chin resting on top of them. "Still believe that the one sending the letter is one of your clansmen?"

Monica's hands trembled as she put her left hand on her right arm. Her eyes were shut tight and her lips are trembling. "I... I thought... I really thought... that he was one of my father's underling..." Trace leaned forward, and asked in a low, but threatening tone. "Who?" Monica's lips trembled even more, and her mouth opens and closes like she was gasping for air. "R-Rigurl..." It was clear from her voice that she was on the verge of crying. Trace kept his gaze fixed on her for a while, and stood up from his chair. "Enough. Guards! Take her back to her cell." The iron door creaked open, revealing two guards behind it. Monica stood up, her chair creaked from her motion, and walked back to her cell.

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