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𓇢𓆸 𓆤 𖧧 𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𖧧 𓍊𓋼 𔓘
THE BURGUE
𝔸𝕊 the wisps of smoke draped the obsidian night sky, a room teeming with slumbering children lay shrouded in dreams. Amidst the stillness, a small figure emerged from his bed, navigating the quiet landscape with a delicate grace to avoid disturbing the tranquil sleep of his companions.
Stealthily, the little boy traversed the room, moving silently past the dreaming children. Down a flight of stairs he descended, guided by the soft flicker of candlelight that spilled from a room below. Approaching the entrance, he glimpsed an illuminated chamber, where a man hunched over a wooden desk, pen in hand, inscribing his thoughts onto parchment. The warm glow of the candles cast an enchanting dance of shadows, turning the room into a haven of quiet industry in the midst of the night's deep hush.
"Please, sir, can I go to the loo?" The little boy's innocent plea pierced the air, startling the man engrossed in his writing. "Jacob. Again? Straight over to the loo, then right back to bed. Not a sound," the man instructed sternly as Jacob, obedient but curious, responded with a meek, "Yes. Thank you, sir." Embarking on his journey to the restroom, Jacob's steps were abruptly arrested by the shattering of glass. His eyes widened as he turned to look at the window belonging to the room where the man was. A muffled struggle emanated from within, punctuated by a desperate plea, "Oh, please!"
His heart pounding, Jacob watched in horror as the man crawled halfway to the door, the boy catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure dragging him back. A gut-wrenching scream echoed as the man's face was violently smashed against the window, blood spattering across the glass. The lifeless body crumpled to the floor, leaving the room in an eerie silence. With trepidation, Jacob approached the door, which swung open with an ominous creak. The room awaited him, a tableau of horror, with the dead body lying in a pool of blood.
ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.
As thunder rumbled through the night sky, punctuating the rainy darkness, Melody and Philo arrived at the Foundling Home in a carriage. The atmospheric symphony of raindrops was met with the horses' anxious neighs upon their arrival. "Master Thorne," Philo greeted an elderly man as he gracefully stepped out of the carriage, with Melody following suit. "Rycroft. Melody, still haven't figured a name for yourself?" Master Thorne inquired with a warm smile directed at the girl.
Melody met his gaze, a hint of mystery in her eyes. "Well, that still means I haven't figured out who I am," she replied, a touch of contemplation in her voice. Master Thorne chuckled, acknowledging the complexity of her situation. Philo and Berwick walked past the trio, heading toward the entrance, where curious children peered out from the windows. Melody followed suit, traversing the threshold to the room where a sinister event had unfolded, the air thick with an unspoken tension.
