ROSSELLA

I watched through the window on the second floor of the family villa, observing how my twin sister practiced over and over to take my place.

A bitter laugh curled on my lips, followed by the sharp taste of iron rising up my throat, tearing through me.

I pressed the handkerchief to my mouth as a violent cough wracked my body. It felt like all my organs were turning to mush, dying slowly and agonizingly.

It was my punishment. I knew it. I was the one who stole her life in the first place.

I looked at the delicate handkerchief, now stained with a grotesque splash of blood, my lifeless eyes darkened by the shadow of death. I remembered those days. Now more than ever. And the weight of remorse crushed my soul.

«I had arrived for a visit to the lands of the Everhart Duchy. We were country folk—not poor, not rich, just part of a decaying middle class.

My father had spent almost all his savings, obsessed with purchasing land for sale in that faraway duchy, claiming it was time to mov