Pandora looked the same, not one bit different than Rosamund had last seen her. The darkness of her deepened than before, her eyes the same as always, a stark difference between her features. She was a beauty that held so many secrets and that mysteriousness and the endless aura of power and silent death made Pandora the more appealing to people around her. Rosamund could still remember the first day she had seen her. It was only at her grandmother’s funeral that she encountered Pandora, under a dark veil that was worn by those who lost their loved ones during the war. Pandora was a stark oddity among everyone, as they were all aware that she never had a husband nor a wife, neither a known kin of her own. Rosamund remembered looking at the quietest person on the ground, standing alone far
