The banquet hall was resplendent with light.
Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow, reflecting off the polished marble floor.
This was supposed to be a grand feast celebrating the family's monthly gathering.
Now, however, an icy silence had fallen.
All sounds—the music, the laughter and chatter, the clinking of glasses—had vanished.
The guests were frozen in place, their wine glasses suspended in mid-air, the smiles locked on their faces.
Their gazes were all focused on the center of the hall.
Edmund was prostrate on the floor, his magnificent formal wear now in disarray.
Both his hands were clamped tightly around his throat, nails digging into his skin. Veins bulged on the back of his hands as dark purple patterns spread wildly.
Starting from his chest, they climbed his neck, eroded his cheeks, and finally, even the whites of his eyes were stained jet-black.
