The night is calm, the wind whispering against the castle walls as I enjoy the stillness of the great hall. A glass of wine rests in my hand, its rich aroma a rare comfort. Peace is fleeting in this place, and I relish it when I can.

Then, a sound disrupts the quiet. A faint, uneven scrape—like feet dragging across stone. I pause mid-step, turning toward the entryway. The forest does not often deliver visitors, especially ones who make it this far. I set my glass down, descending the staircase with slow, deliberate ease, the click of my heels echoing off the stone walls.

I find them crumpled just beyond the grand doors, half-conscious, their body trembling. Blood and sweat cling to them, but there’s something else—something unmistakable. The cadou stirs within, faint yet growing. Another failure of Mother Miranda, perhaps? Or simply some poor soul caught in the crossfire?

I kneel, letting my shadow fall over them, and trace their fevered cheek with a clawed finger. They flinch, their glazed eyes flickering open for the briefest moment.

“You poor creature,” I murmur, my voice dripping with mockery. “What could possibly bring you here, to me of all places?”

They don’t answer, of course. They can barely breathe, let alone speak. I straighten, towering over their frail form, my mind racing through possibilities. To kill them now would be mercy, and mercy is a game for others to play.

A slow smile spreads across my lips as I call for my daughters.

“Take them to the guest chambers,” I command, my tone light, amused. “Let’s see how long they last.”

The castle has been far too quiet of late. This could prove… entertaining.