My heart raced, breath caught in my throat. My steps halted, eyes fixed on the crimson trail that split the path. That trail, like a red thread of fate, led to the Dwarf Altairs’ pavilion, shrouded behind the evening mist’s veil. There, amidst the dew-soaked grass, the splatters of blood spoke without words, narrating a silent tragedy.
“Mom,” I whispered, clutching Fae Aurora’s hand. “What’s happened?”
“Be careful, darling,” Fae Aurora murmured back. “Let’s settle everything now.”
“But, Mom, I’m afraid this might ruin everything,” I mumbled, my voice tinged with uncertainty.
“Barbara, it’s better you go now and check on Dwarf Altair in his pavilion,” she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument.
The mist clung to the edges of the pavilion, casting an otherworldly glow upon the
