By the time Morena had returned to the estate, it was already getting late, and the rest of that day they spent it cleaning up the estate, fixing the building, and most importantly, giving all those who died in the attack a proper burial.

The worst part of it all was telling the families of those who died the truth; Morena decided to do it herself. She believed that it was her fault that the attack even happened in the first place, and she wanted to tell them herself.

It was a way to hold herself responsible.

It was a long, cruel day, and the night wasn't much better. Even though they had finished putting out all the fires and cleaning up the ash and debris, the place wasn't fully fixed yet.

Broken walls, doors that hadn't been completely fixed, and, because they hadn't been able to recruit more people yet, the estate was completely silent during the night.

That silence was haunting, Morena couldn't sleep, she was worried about her family, constantly checking on her brother and sister, she even stood outside her father's room door without entering just to make sure he was alright.

She spent it walking through every corridor, she checked up on the medics that were treating the wounded that had survived, she talked to everyone to try and get a clear picture about what had happened. Even Adolf and the captain took turns outside, commanding the men to secure the outer walls and post new patrols.

The once grand courtyard now looked like a graveyard. Not because they were bodies that still littered it, not because of the destruction they had cleaned, but from the sheer atmosphere that lingered.

She stood there for a long while, staring at the ruin that was once her home. Every corner of the estate held memories, yet now it only held the scent of death.

Behind her, Adolf approached quietly.

"My lady, I believe you should rest. You have been awake all day, and you are still wounded."

Morena didn't turn to him and didn't reply for a moment.

He wasn't wrong, she was very tired and wounded; her energy had been working constantly to keep her body functioning without rest. But she wasn't so tired that she would sleep just yet.

"What of the prisoners? Have they been dealt with?"

Adolf sighed softly to himself and shook his head, but he replied to her question nonetheless.

"They've been moved to the cellar as ordered. The bandit leader is still alive, barely, but he still hasn't said a single word."

"That's fine, I'm sure he'll speak when he experiences a little hardship."

Adolf nodded and paused for a moment before speaking again.

"Your father's stable. He'll recover, though the poison's made it slow, I am a bit concerned that using his energy has increased the spread of it throughout his body but we have no way of knowing for certain because of the nature of the poison."

Morena nodded, she too was worried about the poison, but the poison was so mysterious that they understood very little about it.

"Your sister is also doing fine, her injuries weren't as serious as expected so we were able to get them treated quickly, she'll be back on her feet within the next days. As for your brother..."

He hesitated slightly.

"He blames himself."

Morena's gaze fell toward the ground.

"He shouldn't. None of this was his fault."

Adolf's voice lowered.

"It wasn't yours either."

Hearing his words she could only give a dry smile to the ground, yet she couldn't believe them.

After a long moment, she finally turned away from the courtyard and started walking toward the cellar. The soldiers who stood guard at the door stepped aside immediately, lowering their heads as she passed. The deeper she went, the colder the air became, and the smell of mold and old rust filled the hall.

Torches flickered along the walls, their flames swaying gently as she reached the bottom.

The sound of slow, uneven breathing greeted her first.

The bandit leader sat against the far wall, his hands wrapped in bloody bandages, his chest still bound from the wounds she had given him. Even without limbs, his presence carried a strange weight, a quiet stubbornness that made her pause for just a second.

Two soldiers stood guard nearby; they glanced towards her when she appeared and slightly bowed their heads.

"Leave us."

She said to them with a wave of her hand.

They bowed and left the room without a word, closing the door behind them; leaving the place completely empty as neither Morena nor the bandit leader said a word.

Morena stepped closer until she was standing right in front of him. The man looked up with hollow eyes, but he didn't speak, yet she could see the emotions in his dull eyes.

It was hidden, but he hadn't completely given up hope just yet; he clung deep down to those emotions.

"I'm sure you already heard about what happened; in fact, you probably knew about it before I even did."

She said as she looked down at him; she controlled herself to not show any rage or emotion, because if she did, she knew she would kill him.

"My home was attacked, and many died. Whoever did it knew we'd be gone."

Hearing her words, he said nothing in return.

His breathing was uneven, the sound of it rough and shallow.

"You're going to tell me if you know anything about this... No, I know you know something about it."

She paused for a second, grabbing the man's face with her hand, her nails digging into his cheeks as she clenched it.

"Your people were involved, and someone used you to achieve it. You were just a piece in someone else's game that was thrown away when you grew useless."

The man's lips twitched slightly, forming the faintest trace of a smile.

"You think I'd still be sitting here if I had a hand in that?"

He muttered; his voice was dry, almost a whisper.

"I told you already, we were paid. We were told to cause trouble and wait. That's it."

"Who paid you?"

He lifted his head slightly, looking her in the eyes.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

"Try me."

He let out a short, cracked laugh.

"A man in grey. He wore the kind of boots nobles do, not the kind you buy from a road peddler. Paid in gold coins, stamped with markings I didn't recognize. Told us we'd get double if we kept the roads noisy and waited for the right night. That's all."

Morena crouched down, her eyes fixed on his.

"And you never asked who he was?"

He shook his head weakly.

"Didn't need to. We were hungry. And men like that don't talk to the likes of me. He said his masters would clean up after we did our part."

"Masters? Plural?"

He nodded slowly.

"That's what he said."

She stared at him for a while longer, trying to read his face, his eyes, any small hint that might betray a lie. But he looked too far gone to be lying. His body trembled from exhaustion and pain, but his words felt honest.

"Take him to the upper cells."

She said to Adolf as she released his jaw, it was clear the man was already at the point where he would betray those who paid him; he knew they had thrown him away.

"Keep him alive and under guard, and get as much as you can out of him. For every question he replies, feed him; for everyone he denies, beat him."

She turned and started walking away.

Before she reached the door, his voice came again, hoarse and broken.

"You'll never stop it, you know. They're already ahead of you. Whatever you think you're chasing, you're too late."

Morena stopped for a brief second but didn't turn around.

"You might be right, but we'll see who wins in the end."

When she left the cellar, the sound of her boots echoed against the cold stone.

Outside, the morning light had begun to touch the estate's remains. People were still working on repairs, and it was coming along just fine, but something in her mind told her that this wasn't right.

She looked toward the charred remains of the upper floors, then down at her hands. The blood had been washed off but she still saw it on her hands; blood that never ends for as long as she stayed fighting.

Adolf walked up to her again, carrying a folded scrap of cloth.

"My lady."

He said as he gave her the item.

"One of the scouts found this outside the gate. It was tucked between the stones. Looks like some kind of mark."

She unfolded it slowly and as she saw the mark, her eyes narrowed. It wasn't an obvious mark, many people wouldn't recognize it because it wasn't popularly used in this day and age.

But she knew of the mark from going through all the books in the family archive; it was a mark once used by the church's inquisitions, people they sent to remove those in their path.

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