It was that dreaded night of bloodshed. Tiche had escaped, but she was soaked in her and Godwyn's blood; proof of her sin. She was hidden in a dark hallway: the moon shining down upon her hunched, aching form. She held a cold trembling hand to the contrasting warm blood that gushed out from the large gash upon her side. Her other hand held her blade within a death grip as she heard footsteps. She was ready to strike, almost cowering like a fearful animal in the corner.