Under a Dimmed Sun [UNCENSORED]

SII: Chapter LXV: Autumn Shadows

The once lively Mohn estate had fallen into a heavy silence. After the deaths of her husband and her firstborn son, Edward, Madam Mohn's health had rapidly declined. The weight of her losses proved too much to bear, and she passed away while Albert was away in the capital.

The news of her death sent ripples of sorrow through the household. The remaining relatives, servants, and Alice gathered to hold a quiet funeral in her memory. The ceremony was somber, and the air was thick with grief as they laid her to rest beside her husband.

With Madam Mohn's passing, the estate felt emptier than ever. The halls, once filled with voices and laughter, now echoed with the sound of footsteps and the rustle of mourning clothes. The servants moved about their duties in near silence, their faces marked by the weight of recent losses. Even the birds seemed to avoid the estate, as if respecting the somber mood that had settled over the grounds.

Alice, who had spent much of her time caring for Madam Mohn in her final days, felt the loneliness more acutely than ever. The estate, now without its matriarch, seemed to have lost its heart. Each day felt longer than the last, with little to do but wait for Albert's return.

She determined to keep herself busy and distract her mind from the overwhelming silence of the estate, decided to help the maids clean Madam Mohn's chamber. After finishing there, she moved on to Sir Richaud's chamber. The memories of what had transpired in this room haunted her, but she forced herself to confront them, sweeping away the dust and the remnants of the past.

As she swept the floor beneath a wine table, her hand brushed against something sharp.

"Ouch," she winced, pulling her hand back. Blood welled up from a small cut on her finger.

A nearby servant noticed and quickly came over. "Are you okay?"

Alice nodded, holding her bleeding finger. "Yes, I think it's a broken piece of glass."

"Let me help you," the servant offered, kneeling down beside her.

Together, they carefully sifted through the debris under the table, finding small shards of glass. It seemed like something delicate had been shattered and forgotten, hidden away in the shadows of Sir Richaud's chamber. Alice handed the broken pieces to the servant, her mind swirling with the memories of the man who once occupied this room.

She forced herself to focus on the task at hand, determined to move past the trauma that had gripped her for so long. But as she looked at the broken shards in her hand, she couldn't help but feel a deep, unsettling connection to the fragments of her own life, scattered and sharp, cutting into her just like the tiny glass.

...

Alice walked through the garden, the memories of happier times with Cateline, Isabel, and Albert filling her mind. She could almost hear their laughter on the garden patio, a stark contrast to the emptiness that now surrounded the estate.

Her thoughts drifted back to that terrifying moment when Sir Richaud had died. She remembered the way he had always reeked of alcohol, but that day, there had been something different. A faint scent of almonds had mingled with the stench of liquor.

Almond? Had there been almonds in the house?

The memory of Sir Richaud clutching his chest, gasping for breath as his life slipped away, played vividly in her mind. She could see every detail, every moment of his struggle. And then... Albert had come in, pulling her out of the room, his voice steady, "It's okay. We're going to be alright."

It's okay he said? We?

She remembered Albert's calm demeanor as he ordered everyone to clean up the room immediately after Sir Richaud's death. Everything had been cleared away—the chalice, the utensils. Chalice? Her mind raced. She had seen a chalice on the wine table that day.