The body of the steward lay slumped in the cold stone chamber beneath the mansion, the metallic tang of blood clinging to the air like an invisible mist. Somewhere in the distance, a droplet fell from the ceiling and hit the floor with a hollow plink, echoing through the shadows. No one would come here not unless Seraphine wanted them to.
Her fingers slid between Elric's, their warmth almost tender despite the crimson that still smeared her pale skin. She looked up at him with that same unshaken smile perfect, angelic, and wrong.
"Come," she murmured, her voice soft as silk. "Let's go to the garden."
They left the chamber, climbing the narrow, winding staircase that creaked under each step. The corridor above was dim, lit only by the fading orange glow of dusk filtering through tall stained glass windows. The glass painted their faces in shards of red and gold, making Seraphine's blonde hair shimmer like threads of fire.
The mansion was silent except for their footsteps. Paintings lined the walls portraits of solemn, pale-faced ancestors staring down with eyes too lifelike to be comfortable. Some frames were cracked, others smeared with dust, but all of them watched.
At the far end, heavy oak doors groaned open, revealing the garden.
It should have been beautiful. Roses bloomed in deep scarlet, their petals thick and velvety. Hedges stood trimmed into perfect shapes, and marble statues of maidens and saints looked out from the corners. But the air was too still, the colors too rich, as if the garden was holding its breath. The faint scent of earth and flowers was tainted with something metallic something that didn't belong.
Seraphine didn't seem to notice. She led Elric to a stone bench beneath an archway of climbing roses, her red eyes glimmering in the dying light. She sat gracefully, her gown spilling around her like liquid silk, and tilted her head at him.
"You've been quiet," she said, her tone neither accusing nor kind. Just… curious.
Elric's gaze flickered back toward the mansion, down to where the steward's body lay in darkness. He said nothing.
Seraphine's smile widened, the kind that made the garden's stillness feel heavier. "The world is prettier when people stop screaming, don't you think?"
Somewhere in the hedges, a raven called once and then the silence swallowed it whole.
The morning air in the garden was thick, almost suffocating, the scent of roses heavy and cloying under the silver gaze of the moon. Somewhere beyond the trimmed hedges, a night insect chirped then stopped abruptly, as if it too had sensed the wrongness settling over the place.
Seraphine's hand tightened around Elric's, her fingers cold yet trembling with excitement. Her crimson eyes glimmered in the moonlight, not with warmth, but with that feverish hunger that made him feel both trapped and… claimed.
"You should learn to like it," she murmured, her voice honeyed and dangerous, as though coaxing him into a secret sin. "When I kill… it's exhilarating. Every cry, every gasp… it's proof they belong to my hands." Her gaze locked on him, sharp enough to pierce through flesh. "If you truly wish to stay by my side, you should feel it too."
Elric's expression remained cold, unreadable, but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth a fragile imitation of a smile. "Yes… my lady."
Her head tilted, studying him with predatory patience. Then her voice softened, becoming something far worse. "And if you don't…" She leaned closer, her breath ghosting over his cheek, her words low and venomous. "…I will make sure you do. I'll take the maids one by one. I'll hurt them like I hurt your parents. Until the screams echo in your skull every night… until you crave the sound like I do."
Elric's hands clenched in his lap, his nails digging into his skin. The garden's beauty was nothing more than a painted veil for the suffocating air between them.
And still, he did not move away.
Elric's gaze stayed fixed on the dark treeline beyond the roses, as if the night might somehow swallow him away. But the weight of Seraphine's touch held him rooted in place, her nails grazing his skin in a slow, deliberate scrape that felt almost… ceremonial.
She leaned back against the bench, her expression softening into something deceptively serene, as though her words hadn't just been dripping with threats. "You'll understand me one day," she murmured, her eyes half-lidded, almost dreamy. "You'll see the beauty in the way a life fades… the way their eyes lose light. It's art, Elric. And I'll be the one to teach you."
The faint rustle of footsteps sounded from the far side of the garden path too light to be a guard, too hesitant to belong to someone who belonged here. Elric stiffened.
Seraphine's lips curled into a smile that wasn't quite human. "Ah… a listener."
Before he could react, she was on her feet, her crimson gown sweeping the gravel like blood pooling across stone. She didn't hurry she never needed to but each step felt inevitable, predatory, as if she were following an invisible thread straight to her prey.
Elric sat frozen, torn between the urge to call out and the knowledge that doing so would change nothing. Seraphine would find them. And when she did…
A soft gasp pierced the air. Then silence.
When she returned, there was no visible stain on her gown, no trace of what had transpired, save for the faintest smear of crimson on her fingertips. She settled beside him once more, almost sighing as she rested her head lightly on his shoulder.
"See?" she whispered, her tone almost affectionate. "It's beautiful when it's quiet."
Seraphine's fingers traced lazy circles on Elric's knuckles before she leaned back, her voice almost a purr.
"I'm hungry."
Elric rose from the bench, straightening his coat. "I'll tell the maids to prepare your lunch"
Her hand shot out, gripping his wrist with a sudden force that made the air still.
"Don't take too long," she said softly, though her eyes held that dangerous glint. "And don't… talk to them more than you need to. I'd hate it if you did."
He met her gaze for a brief moment cold as winter steel before nodding. "Yes, my lady."
As his footsteps faded toward the mansion, Seraphine's lips curved into that beautiful, unsettling smile. She turned and walked with unhurried grace toward the far side of the garden, where shadows clung under the ivy arch where she killed the eavesdropper.
There, sprawled against the damp earth, lay the maid she had dealt with earlier. Her skin was pale, lips parted as if frozen mid-breath. Blood had seeped into the soil, blackening in the shade her eyes had tears on it.
Seraphine crouched beside her, tilting her head as if studying a delicate flower. Her crimson eyes gleamed, catching the stray beam of light breaking through the leaves.
"You shouldn't have talked to him," she murmured, almost gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from the lifeless face. "You dared to… and now you've ruined everything."
Her fingers lingered on the cold cheek for a moment, then she rose, the hem of her dress whispering over the grass as she headed back toward Elric smiling like she hadn't just delivered another warning in blood.
Elric stepped into the cramped quarters where the maids stayed, his presence freezing the chatter in the air.
"Prepare lunch for the lady," he ordered, voice clipped and cold.
The maids bowed quickly, scattering to obey.
until a small frown pulled at his face.
The maid he'd spoken to yesterday… the one with the tired eyes and soft voice, the one who had told him she was only here to keep her sick parents and brothers alive… she wasn't there.
His chest tightened.
Elric forced himself to breathe, burying the unease under a mask of calm. She's probably one of the maids assigned to clean the rooms today… he told himself.
Yes. That had to be it.
But as he turned away, the thought clung stubbornly in the back of his mind like a shadow he couldn't shake.
Little did he know she was indeed the one who now lay cold in the garden, her blood already claimed by Seraphine.
Without another word, Elric turned and walked down the narrow corridor until he reached a dim, empty corner of the mansion far from prying eyes and ears.
There, he stopped. His back hit the wall with a quiet thud, his head tipping back against it. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, holding it before letting it out slowly through clenched teeth.
His hands balled into fists at his sides.
"She just killed two today…" he whispered under his breath, the words tasting like iron. "…like it was nothing."
Memories he didn't want clawed their way back her voice, sweet and cold, describing in detail what she had done to his parents. How she had made them scream. How she had smiled while doing it.
His jaw tightened until it ached. He pressed the back of his head harder against the wall, as if the pressure might push the images away. His chest rose and fell, each breath sharper than the last.
Finally, he let his eyes close completely. Not to rest but to cage the storm inside him, to hide the fury and helplessness gnawing at his bones. For now, he could only breathe… and wait.