Between love and obligation, whichever shall she choose?
...
Eleanora Finley's story begins in 1705, adversity weaving its intricate threads with a cruel hand. Her father's tragic demise in flames left her adrift, ensnared by a mother whose iron gri...
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1712, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City
A darkened room. An open window in the distance, overlooking a lush field where the crickets sang. A chilling breeze, and the sound of someone struggling to breathe.
Eleanora hardly saw anything other than the silhouette of the furniture that adorned the room, but then, a thin, pale face emerged from the darkness, its features twisted in agony.
"How could you?" Catarina cried out, her voice dry and hoarse. Blood, so red that it was almost black, dribbled from her lips and trickled down to her neck. She wore nothing but a thin white shift, and as the blood slowly soaked into the linen, her shift turned into an ominous shade of burgundy.
Her knees then buckled, and Catarina's frail frame collapsed onto the floor, her limbs bent in unnatural angles.
"I thought we were friends," she murmured, her head facing the window. Then, without moving her torso, her head snapped back to face Eleanora, and a sickening crunching sound echoed throughout the room. "But I was wrong. If you were truly my friend, you wouldn't have condemned me to such a painful death."
Eleanora inhaled sharply, her face taut and pale. She knew she should run away, but she could not. It was as if her feet had been completely nailed to the floor, locking her in place.
"Why did you kill me, Eleanora?"
"Why did you take my life away from me?"
As she uttered those words, dark red blood oozed from the corners of her eyes, leaving red streaks on her pale cheeks.
"WHY DID YOU KILL ME?!"
A cry escaped Eleanora's lips, and she crumpled to the floor, her face buried in her hands. "I did not want to, I swear... It was Marguerite... She forced me to poison you.."
Eleanora clenched her eyes shut, not wanting to see Catarina's maimed, twisted face. Perhaps, if she closed her eyes long enough, Catarina would go away.
But Catarina decided to go to her instead. Her knees thudded against the hardwood floor as she crawled her way towards Eleanora, her rickety bones clicking and clacking as she moved.
An eerie coldness encased Eleanora's whole body, and then, she felt a bony hand clamp around her left shoulder, its nails roughly digging into her flesh.
"But Eleanora, it was you who poisoned me," Catarina whispered into her ear. "My blood is on your hands."
Eleanora exasperatedly shook her head. "No, I didn't mean to! Please, I didn't want to kill you!"
"No matter what you say, you were still the one who killed me. Look at your hands, aren't they red?"
Reluctantly, Eleanora moved her hands from her face, and as she did, she heard a wet, squelching sound. She opened her eyes, expecting to see her hands right in front of her face, but instead, she saw Catarina's dismembered head, her eyes gouged out and her jaw broken, lying in her lap.
