Cage stuck his head in the door of his grandfather’s study. “Grandfather?” he called.
“Come in, Cage,” Vincent replied from his seat at the desk. He looked up and smiled at his favorite grandchild. “I’m glad you’re here. We need to discuss the plans for the party.”
Cage entered the room cautiously, shutting the door behind him. “Yes, Grandfather, we do.”
“Is everything set?” Vincent asked, pushing back from the desk.
“Yes, but—“
“No,” Vincent said sternly. “I don’t want to hear that indecisive tone in your voice ever again. You cannot back out on me now.”
“Grandfather, I don’t think that I can do it,” he mumbled, dropping his head.
Vincent put his hands on his grandson’s shoulders and forced him to look up into the old man’s eyes. “Cage, do I need to remind you of why you are doing it?”
“No, I am well aware of the reasons,” he snapped, pulling away from Vincent’s grip. “It’s just—well, she’s our mother. For all her faults, she is our mother, and your daughter. How can you do this to your own daughter?”
Vincent’s eyes grew cold. “She stopped being my daughter the day she married your father.”
Cage recoiled at his grandfather’s cold words.
Vincent looked up at him. “I am grateful that they created you, my boy, but if it hadn’t been for that woman, my son would still be alive.”
“Mother did not kill him!” Cage shouted, pointing a finger at him.
“She did not take his life, Cage,” Vincent agreed. “She made him weak. For years, she sucked the life out of him and destroyed everything I had taught him. He wasn’t strong like you, Cage.”
Cage sighed. “The fact remains, I do not think that I will be able to do it when the time comes.”
Vincent scoffed, enraging Cage. “I think you will, my boy. Just remember what he has done to you. He’s taken away your birthright. He’s stripped you of everything that should be yours. Isn’t that motivation enough?”
The old man’s words stirred something in Cage’s blood. That fire that Vincent had bred into him flared in his eyes, and he nodded slowly. “As always, Grandfather, you are right.” He looked up at Vincent. “Everything is set. You will not have to doubt me.”
Vincent smiled, clapping Cage on the shoulder. “You truly are a McMahon, Cage. You are strong; much stronger than your father.”
Cage smiled, glad he could make his grandfather proud.
~~**~~
The Night of the Full Moon
“Mother, are you almost ready?” Brandon called through the door. He adjusted the high collar of his father’s outfit. “The people are starting to talk.”
“Oh, let them talk,” she shouted. “I’m not coming down until the time is right. Go and enjoy your party.”
“Don’t you even want to see how I look?” he asked hopefully.
He heard the lock on his mother’s bedroom door turn, and it opened just a slit. Her dark eyes peered out at him, then the door opened more. Brandon averted his eyes at the sight of his mother in her underclothes.
Amarantha gasped. Brandon was an exact replica of his father. Everything, down to the way he held his head—so proud, so full of confidence, was the same. “Oh, my darling, you look exactly like your father.”
“Really?” he asked, straightening his jacket.
She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, yes, darling, you do.”
Brandon blushed.
“He would be proud of you,” she said, a tear slipping over her cheek.
“That’s all I have wanted, Mother,” he replied.
Amarantha leaned forward and put her hand on her son’s cheek. “You’re a man today, my dear. Go and enjoy yourself. I’ll be down shortly.”
He nodded. “Have you seen Cage?”
Amarantha thought for a moment. “Yes, he asked to give you a message to meet him in the library. He’s probably there.”
Brandon nodded, then made a bow. “I shall see you soon.”
Amarantha blew him a kiss, and then sank back inside her room to finish dressing.
If she had known that it would be the last time she saw her son alive, she would have said something more.
~~**~~
“Cage?” Brandon yelled into the library. “Are you in here?”
“I am here, brother,” Cage called from the second level. He was dressed in an ensemble exactly like his twin brother’s. Brandon shook his head, and then headed for the spiral stairs that lead to the second floor.
“What are you doing in here?” Brandon asked. “We should be at the party. It is for us, you know.”
Cage nodded. “I know, but only one of us is going to make it.”
Brandon barely had time to reflect on his words before Cage turned on him with cat-like speed. Brandon barely saw the flash of the silver dagger before Cage drove it into the center of his brother’s chest. The sharp pain shot straight to Brandon’s pure heart, and the blood flowed freely, staining the front of his snow-white shirt. He collapsed to the floor in a heap.
Cage looked down at his twin, tossing the dagger over the railing. “First born, first to die,” he hissed, picking up his brother. “You had everything, brother mine. You were his favorite, you were the heir—everything went to you! And Mother! She treated you like a god, and barely noticed that I exist. That’s going to change. As of tonight, everyone will notice me!”
He dragged his brother to the edge of the walkway and threw him over without a moment’s hesitation. He watched his brother fall, and smiled at the sickening sound of bone’s crunching against hard wood floor. Brandon was dead; Cage could tell by the angle his head had hit and how his neck had been turned. It was an instantaneous and painless death—better than his brother deserved. His blood seeped out from beneath him, snaking across the floor.
“You should have taken Mother’s advice and stayed away from the edge,” he hissed. “She told you that you would fall one day, and that day has come.”
Cage backed away from the edge, and while keeping his eye on the family portrait hanging above the library fireplace, he withdrew a piece of rope with a noose at the end of it. He methodically tied one end to the railing that ran along the upper-level walkway, and then put the noose around his neck.
“All for you…” he whispered, fixing his eyes on his grandfather, and then he jumped over the edge.
His neck was broken instantly, and Cage’s dark eyes looked up at his grandfather—the fire behind them had gone out. The only sound in the library was that of the swaying of Cage’s corpse.
~~**~~
Amarantha put her purple crystal ear-bobs on and peered at her reflection in the mirror. She looked wonderful, and her dress would make her the hit of the party. She was going as Guinevere, bride of King Arthur and lover of Sir Lancelot. It was fitting, she supposed.
Still, the gloom of the evening that would follow hung over her like a cloud. Mark and Kane would be arriving shortly, and then her plan would come full circle. She took a deep breath and thought of the dead amaranth on Shane’s grave. He would forgive her, she knew. For everything.
There was a knock at her door. “Who is it?” she called.
“It’s Jean Paul, Amarantha,” he answered.
Amarantha wrapped herself in a dressing gown and threw a cover over her dress that was sitting in the corner. She checked her appearance in the mirror before opening the door and pulling Jean Paul in with a sharp yank.
She slammed him up against the door once he was inside and mashed her painted lips again, not caring if it smeared. He kissed her back for a moment, and then gently pushed her away. “Amarantha, we need to talk.”
She looked at him crossly. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes, something is very wrong,” he replied, beginning to pace around the room. “I need to tell you something. You had better sit down.”
Amarantha took a chair in front of her vanity mirror, her heart in her throat. **What is going on?** “Jean Paul, is there something wrong between us?”
He whirled on her, his face furious and his eyes flashing. “There is no US, Amarantha! That’s just it.”
“What are you talking about?” she chirped, her hand flying to her throat.
“I’ve been trying to tell you this from the very first moment in the garden,” he raged, glaring at her. “I don’t love you! I never did!”
“Excuse me?” she squeaked, tears filling up her dark eyes.
“It was all a lie,” he continued, pointing at her. “I was your father’s master plan! He asked me to do this to you! He told me to feign interest, tell you that I loved you, sleep with you, for Christ’s sake! It was his plan all along. I’ve never felt one moment’s affection for you.”
Amarantha didn’t reply.
“He promised me money in return for being a part of his plan,” Jean Paul screamed. “That fucking coward Hickenbottom wouldn’t do it! Your father asked him to first, knowing that the two of you have been fucking since the moment Shane went into the ground! That’s why I did it, not for the money, but to get back at you!
“You betrayed Shane. He loved you more than life itself, and you fucked that wizard as soon as you got the chance! You fucked Hickenbottom as soon as you got the chance! I seem to remember our afternoon in the garden. You didn’t hesitate one moment before getting to me too. But that’s just the thing, you cold-hearted witch. I got to you! I made you love me! I betrayed my best friend because you betrayed him too.
“You’re an evil woman, Amarantha McMahon. You will use anyone who comes into your life if you think it could be worth something to you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You’ve driven your sister crazy, your children are fatherless, and you are not the mother that you had! No, Linda was a good woman, and she paid for that with her life.
Being a part of this family killed her the way that it killed Shane.
“Your father hates you as much as the rest of us do. He hates you because you destroyed the only thing that matter to him in his life. You sucked the life out of Shane the same way you did to Hickenbottom the same way you were trying to do it to me. That’s what so beautiful about this—I used your own tricks against you. Who’s the strong one now, you black- hearted bitch? How could anyone love a person like you?”
Amarantha sat silent for a moment, reeling from the impact of the words the man she loved was saying. Everything he said was true. She felt the need to crumble into a pile on the floor and just fade away. “Get out of here right this fucking instant!” she screamed, refusing to let herself cry in front of him. That would make the victory only sweeter to her father.
Jean Paul, with an evil grin, bowed gallantly in his knight’s uniform. “Gladly,” he hissed, then turned on his heel and left.
Amarantha was alone, and the tears streamed over her cheeks. She reached for a bottle of perfumed water and hurled it against the wall. Everything had fallen apart. She had fallen in love with a lie. Jean Paul had never loved her, but she had loved him—oh, God forgive her, she
had loved him. Her father had one. He had succeeded in destroying her, but she would get her revenge in the form of the Dark Angel and his brother.
As her tears dried, Amarantha’s pride was still wounded. It seemed as though a great hole inside her had re-opened. She felt the way she had just after Shane’s death. Her eyes fell upon the speech that had been written for her that she would read in a matter of minutes when she made her entrance into the party.
There was a page of notes that had been attached to the speech.
She gasped.
“Meaning of children’s names,” had been scrawled across the top. Her dark eyes grew wider as she read down the page.
Cage Kennedy—The Captive Shane Brandon—The Raven Hannah Arrisen—The God-sent
**Much destruction do I see--The Captive, the Raven, and the God-sent. Blood fights blood, but water is too weak to combat. One ends with a silver reckoning, the other responsible and punished by the braid. The remaining struck down by the source in chance. With them signals the end, and all shall fall there after. Piety shall be the savior of one, and wrath what damns another. The emerald star keeps the other safe, but not saved, and he that bridges will resurrect. None shall ‘scape the messenger, who will walk again and bring forth the fury of the beyond on the night of the full moon.** Those had been Stephanie’s words.
Amarantha stood up and pulled on her gown. Once she was dressed, she threw open the door and flew down the hall toward the library.
~~**~~
Amarantha barreled down the hallway toward the library. Her heart was racing in her chest. Jean Paul’s betrayal and the overall shock of the turn of events that had taken second to Amarantha’s protective maternal instincts. Her children were more important than anything— she would have her revenge on them all in time.
As she rounded the corner leading to the west corridor, Amarantha breezed past Mark and Kane, both dressed in identical black hooded capes. She didn’t stop. Something was pulling her, almost calling her to library.
“Amarantha!” Mark shouted, watching her blast past them.
“I can’t! I just can’t!” she warbled, stumbling. “I’ve got to get to my babies!” They began following her toward the library.
**Blood fights blood…hatred and anger see no allegiance lines…their hearts know only what is bred in them…The Captive knows much of His plan and will be instrumental in the grand design…The Raven is pure at heart, and innocence shall be its undoing…**
Amarantha had already crashed through the library door when Mark and Kane caught up with her.
“What in the name of…” Mark’s voice trailed off as he saw Amarantha cradling the limp body of one of her sons as the other hung lifelessly above her from the walkway. Kane watched the door as Mark cautiously approached the furious woman. “Amarantha, I am so sorry.”
She gently tousled Brandon’s hair. “I am, too. I am sorry I couldn’t have stopped him before this happened.” She bent her head and placed a gentle kiss on Brandon’s forehead and carefully closed his eyes.
There were no tears to shed. That time would come later. Now was the time to focus. She would make her father pay for all that he had done.
“Mark, get him down from there, please,” Amarantha whispered, Struggling to her feet. She looked at the dagger on the floor where it had landed, and began to chuckle.
Mark looked down at her as he began climbing the ladder. “What in the hell could be amusing at a time like this?”
She whirled on him. “Stephanie said ‘one ends with a silver reckoning’” she pointed to the dagger, “’and the other responsible and punished by the braid.’” She pointed to the rope from which Cage was hanging. “It makes perfect sense.”
“What about Hannah?” Mark asked, as Amarantha headed to the door, pushing her shoulders back.
Amarantha turned on her heel. “Hannah can take care of herself. She learned from the best.”
Mark stood amazed as she left him and his brother alone with the twins, looking uncannily like their father even in death. She seemed to have experienced no grief for her slain sons. That was the kind of woman Amarantha was—she stored all her emotions inside, letting them swell until they exploded in an intense maelstrom from which no one was safe. Years of living in the same house as a monster like Vincent had put a dark place inside her. It was that dark place, much like his own soul, that he had fallen in love with, so deeply that he would kill for her.
He **would** kill for her.
~~**~~
The party going on below was loud and festive. The guests that had traveled from miles around were having a wonderful time. The musicians were keeping things going. Of course, the large amount of alcohol that was circulating was also helping.
And while they were all having the times of their lives, her baby boys were dead. Vincent had driven Cage crazy with jealousy of his brother. Vincent had put Jean Paul up to destroying her. He had always resented her strength, so he had decided to break her by using her heart as his weapon—what Stephanie had said about it being the most powerful weapon was true.
Now, with hatred, grief, resentment, anger, betrayal—any combination of a hundred emotions beating from that heart, Amarantha started down the stairs to join the party.
The whole room stopped and watched her. She descended with her head held high, looking more beautiful than any woman in the room. She could see Vincent, on his throne. He was, after all, dressed as the King Arthur to her Guinevere. Hannah stood beside him to one side, looking precious in her beautiful fairy queen costume. She had wings of gossamer that matched the color of her extravagant gown perfectly. Jean Paul stood to the left of Vincent, refusing to meet her eye. Shawn was on his right, also dressed a knight, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her—exactly the effect she desired.
Applause suddenly rang out from the back of the room and spread forward like a wave until it crashed upon Amarantha as she descended the last step. She smiled graciously, curtsying and nodding to those around her. As the applause died down, she began walking toward Vincent. The crowd parted to allow her to pass.
“Actually, your applause should be directed at my father,” she announced loudly, looking Vincent with every step she took. “Hasn’t he thrown an excellent party?”
They cheered again, lifting their wine glasses. Vincent, however, did not seem as enthused. Amarantha clicked her tongue.
“Now, don’t be modest, Father,” she cooed, stopping just in front of him. Hannah came to her side. **Keep the God-sent close** “You do deserve credit for all of this, and for the wonderful plan you devised to destroy me.”
Several gasps and sounds of alarm came from behind her. Hannah put her hand on her mother’s arm. “Mother, what are you talking about?”
Vincent shook his head. “Tell her, Father,” Amarantha shouted. “Tell your grand- daughter how you put Jean Paul up to the task of seducing me and making me fall in love with him just because you’ve held a grudge ever since Shane and I were married. Tell her how you planned to destroy me by exposing my weakness to the world.”
“Amarantha, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Vincent replied suddenly. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself, and you’re ruining the party. This is supposed to be about the triplets.”
Amarantha nodded. “You’re right, Father, but you should know better than anyone that only one of them is alive to enjoy it.”
“What?” Hannah gasped.
“Brandon and Cage are dead!” she announced, still staring her father down, their identical dark eyes fighting for control. He flinched at hearing the news of Cage’s suicide. “My sons are dead because this monster convinced Cage to kill his brother because Brandon had stolen his birth right by being the first born. Cage hanged himself after the job his grandfather had hired him to do was completed.”
Tears began rolling over Hannah’s cheeks. She turned to Vincent. “Is it true, Grandfather?”
Vincent set his jaw. The news of Cage’s death had come as a surprise to him. He didn’t answer Hannah.
“Tell them, Father, how you had your own grandson killed, how you manipulated his twin brother into killing him because you were too much of a coward to do it yourself!” Amarantha continued to shout, her voice beginning to shake. “Tell them that all the rumors are true, that you did kill my mother!”
Vincent shot to his feet as the crowd gasped collectively. “Yes, it’s true! All of it is true!” He stepped down from the throne, advancing on his daughter. “My hatred of you has cost me dearly, for I did love my grandson, Cage. I can’t say the same for his weakling brother or the whore that brought them into the world!”
The assembled guests had been stunned into silence. None of them knew what to make of the things that were being said. Even Jean Paul and Shawn looked shaken by the old man’s announcements.
“Yes, I sent Jean Paul to destroy you because I knew that it was the only way I could get to you,” Vincent screamed like a madman. “You had to pay for destroying my son. Your love killed him, just like it killed your sons. Everything you touch turns to dust because you are a heartless evil witch who deserves everything she gets. I’m going to end it tonight. I won’t let you hurt anyone else with your love!”
Someone screamed as Vincent pulled a dagger out of the pocket of his robe and lashed out toward his daughter. Amarantha could do nothing as she saw him move. All she could do was think of Stephanie’s words: **The remaining struck down by the source in chance**
Hannah flung herself in front of her mother just as Vincent lunged. The blade plunged deep into her stomach. A blossom of crimson appeared on the front of her dress around the blade as she wrapped her arms around her grandfather. He stared at her in horror as she collapsed on the blade, then he released the handle and she crumpled to the floor at her mother’s feet. She smacked the stone floor, the emerald orb pendant given to her by Mark fell out of the top of her dress. **The emerald star keeps the other safe, but not saved, and he that bridges will resurrect.**
Mark suddenly appeared from the east corridor. No one dared touch the seven-foot monster as he approached Vincent and wrapped his massive hands around the old man’s neck. Vincent sputtered and coughed, struggling for breath.
“Let him go,” Shawn’s firm voice said suddenly, breaking the several minutes of standing silence. Amarantha turned and saw that he had a small silver pistol aimed right at Mark’s head. “I don’t want to do it, but I will.”
Mark looked at her, asking her with his eyes. She nodded reluctantly, and he removed his hand from his neck. Vincent steadied himself, straightening his robe before again rushing at Amarantha with a new dagger in his hand. She screamed as they collided, and she felt the
blade sink deep into her flesh. Suddenly, Vincent’s body was rocked with a tremendous force, and they fell to the ground, Amarantha’s head smacking the stone floor.
Shawn stared at Vincent’s bleeding body with his arm extended and the pistol still smoking. The bullet had hit him square in the back. He writhed in agony on the floor and turned his body so he could look at his assassin. Shawn lowered his arm. “I’m sorry, my friend.”
Vincent’s face was a mixture of agony and fury. “Traitor…” he hissed. Then his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed, dead.
Someone began sobbing, setting off a chain reaction of panic. People began running from the room as Mark collapsed beside Amarantha. His hand went to the dagger that was still buried deep in her abdomen, but she shook her head. “No, it is too late.”
“Amarantha…” he whispered.
She turned her head to look at her slain daughter. “Take her soul with you when you return to your dark world. She knew all along that it would happen.”
He nodded, taking her hand in his. “The Emerald Star was her protection. It always has been.”
Amarantha’s vision began to grow blurry as Shawn appeared over her. She managed a weak smile. “Even now, I won’t beg for mercy.”
Tears flowed freely from his eyes. “I love you, Amarantha.”
She nodded. “I know, my darling. Aren’t you glad I didn’t love you back? You would be dead now.”
“Oh, God,” he sobbed, crashing the floor beside her to take her other hand.
Suddenly, there was a gasp. All eyes turned to the west corridor. Amarantha used all her strength to look up—it was Stephanie, wearing a long, exquisite black gown, the one she had been sewing the last time Amarantha had seen her. Her appearance was radically different. Her skin had a rosy hue, her eyes were sparkling, and she had the most beautiful smile on her face that Amarantha had ever seen. Kane walked in behind her, one of the twins in each arm. They walked through the silent crowd and came to a stop just before Amarantha.
Stephanie looked down at her dying sister. “The Raven,” she gestured to Brandon, “The Captive,” she gestured to Cage, “and the God-sent,” and she pointed a hand down to Hannah. A snarl formed on her lips as she looked down at her father. “There is the source.” Her eyes fell upon Mark. “He is the one who bridges.” Stephanie sighed and looked down at Amarantha. “Didn’t I tell you it would be this way, sister? Didn’t I warn you of what would happen? Everything I have said has come true.”
Amarantha shook her head weakly. “Where is the Messenger? You said that none would escape the Messenger, who will walk again and bring forth the fury of the beyond. Where is this Messenger?”
A small evil grin spread across Stephanie’s pink lips. She pointed to the top of the stairs. Amarantha looked—
It was Shane.
Or rather, a slightly different version of Shane than what Amarantha remembered. He was dressed all in white, and descended the stairs with a graceful ease that led Amarantha to believe that he was floating. She looked up at Stephanie for an explanation. Stephanie merely smiled.
Shane reached the bottom step, and the crowd scurried to make room for him. Most of them had gone, but the ones who had stayed and witnessed the entire horrific scene were all entranced by what they were seeing. Shane walked to Kane, who was still holding the bodies of the twins. He reached out and swiped his hand over Brandon’s body with a fond smile. Brandon’s corpse convulsed once, then with a guttural groan, relaxed again. Shane did the same to his other son.
He walked silently over to Hannah, bent down, and put a finger to her cheek. Her body didn’t move. He looked to Mark, who somehow understood what the apparition was saying without him having to say a word.
Tears rolled over Amarantha’s cheeks as her beloved turned to gaze upon her. He crouched beside her, shaking her head. “You’ve made quite a mess of things, haven’t you, Ama?”
She chuckled at the sound of her old nickname, and was then rocked by a tremor of pain originating in her abdomen. “Shane, you know that I never stopped—“
“You don’t need to say it, my darling,” Shane interrupted, putting a hand to her lips. Amarantha reeled at the sensation—his finger was there, but she couldn’t feel it against her lips. She felt something, a tingling almost, but not his finger. “I’ve known that you were faithful to me in your heart, and I’ve never stopped loving you either, not even in death.”
“But, yesterday, the amaranth—“
“That was meant as a sign,” he explained, his voice soft and soothing. “I was trying to warn you of what was to happen, but you’ve always been stubborn.” He smiled at her. “It’s time to go now, darling. We’ve got a date to see Hannah and Brandon.”
Her brow furrowed as the tightness in her chest grew more intense. “What about Cage?”
Shane shook his head sadly. “No, Cage and our father will go somewhere else, some place where we will never see them again.”
“It wasn’t Cage’s fault!” she shouted, shaking her head. “Father tricked him into doing it.”
“No, Amarantha,” Shane whispered. “Cage knew where his soul was when he killed his brother. He must be punished.” Shane looked up at Mark and Shawn. “Thank you for taking such good care of her while I was gone.”
Mark nodded, and Shawn merely stared at the unbelievable spectacle before him. Shane turned his gaze to Jean Paul, who hadn’t moved from his spot beside the throne since the whole terrible night has started. “I forgive you, my friend. Your conscience has been cleared by me, but I’m afraid you’ll have to deal with your guilt about Amarantha on your own.” Jean Paul’s head dropped to his chest.
Shane turned back to Amarantha. “Time to go now, my love.”
Amarantha smiled, nodding her head. Shane waved his hand over her body, and Amarantha’s chest stopped moving. The last breath that was caught in her throat came out, and her body relaxed against the ground. The hands that Mark and Shawn were holding went limp, and they put her hands on the sides of her body. Shane looked up at Stephanie with a smile. “Thanks for inviting me, sis.”
She smiled, nodding. “Any time, dear brother, any time.”
Shane vanished.
Someone screamed.
Stephanie laughed.
~~**~~
Epilogue
The night that Vincent, Amarantha, Brandon, Cage, and Hannah McMahon left the physical world, the light returned to the halls of the castle. The darkness was gone, and Stephanie McMahon, the only remaining member of the family, inherited the estate and the fortune. She wasn’t crazy, they all discovered. It had been the curse that was on the house that had driven her insane, and after the deaths of all her family members, Stephanie returned to normal life with her husband, Jean Paul.
Mark and his brother disappeared into the woods forever that night, taking the body of Hannah McMahon with him. It was often reported that Mark and the girl-child were seen walking on the edge of the forest from time to time, though everyone knew that the little girl had been buried along side her brothers in the family cemetery. No one questioned the forces at work where the McMahons were concerned. Those present at the party that horrible night had learned to believe in anything.
Amarantha McMahon had been pregnant at the time of her death, with Michael “Shawn” Hickenbottom’s child, though neither of them had known. He lived the rest of his life at McMahon castle with the happy couple, remained out of the view of the public for many years. He never quite recovered from the shock of losing Amarantha, and he spent almost every day at her grave, where she would spend the rest of eternity beside her true love.
And every year, on the anniversary of death for almost all of the McMahon family, Stephanie would venture from the castle and place a flower on her sisters grave—an amaranth that had not yet opened.
It bloomed every single time, without fail.
~~**THE END**~~
