Under a Dimmed Sun [UNCENSORED]

SII: Chapter LXX: 'Death' of Alice

Peter of Wode returned to his castle, carrying the weight of recent revelations with him. The news from the convent had left him troubled and disoriented. He found Teresa waiting for him in the sitting room, her demeanor carefully composed.

"Teresa," Peter said, his voice thick with frustration and anguish. "I've encountered a girl at the convent who claimed to be Isabel, but her behavior was entirely inconsistent with what Edward described. I'm not sure if she's really Isabel or if something else is at play."

Teresa's expression softened, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of something deeper. "It must be difficult to deal with such uncertainty. We can only focus on what's within our control and leave the rest behind."

Peter's eyes were dark with determination. "I need to find out what has happened to Alice. I can't rest until I know the truth."

Reluctantly, Teresa agreed to offer additional assistance. She organized a separate search party, independent of the Mohn household's efforts, to investigate the area around the Ordo Clara convent. The night was rainy and somber, casting a shadow over the search efforts.

A few days later, a grim letter arrived from Teresa's search party, detailing a macabre discovery. They had found the body of a blonde woman in the woods near the convent. The remains were described as being torn apart by a predator—likely a bear or a wolf. Teresa's hands trembled as she read the letter. She knew she had to keep this news from Peter, but it was clear he would eventually learn of it.

Despite Teresa's efforts to shield him from the grim news, Peter overheard the muffled conversations and hushed whispers that filled the corridors of his castle. As he pieced together the horrifying details of the letter from Teresa's search party, a suffocating wave of despair engulfed him. The reality of Alice's death struck him like a thunderbolt, shattering the fragile hold he had on his emotions.

Peter's reaction was immediate and visceral. He staggered back from the window where he had overheard the talk, his face contorted in disbelief and anguish. "No! No! NO!" he shouted, his voice cracking as if it was being torn apart from within. "Alice— My Alice can't be dead!"

His cries echoed through the stone walls of the castle, a haunting symphony of grief that resonated with the very essence of his sorrow. He collapsed onto the floor, his hands gripping his hair in desperation as if trying to pull the pain from his very soul. The walls of his study bore witness to his torment as he hurled himself against them, the sound of his body slamming into the stone punctuating the air with a sense of raw, unrestrained agony.

Furniture toppled over, scattered objects becoming casualties in his emotional upheaval. A once-pristine desk was overturned, papers fluttering like lost dreams. The chaos in the room was a tangible representation of his inner turmoil—an external manifestation of the heart-wrenching pain that consumed him.

Peter's face was streaked with tears, his eyes red and swollen from the relentless stream of grief. Each cry, each howl of despair seemed to strip away another layer of his control, exposing the vulnerability of a man who had loved Alice with a depth and intensity that defied expression. The depth of his sorrow was not just in the loss of a person but in the loss of a piece of himself—of a life he had envisioned sharing with her.

Teresa, witnessing the unraveling of her husband, felt a pang of guilt mixed with a perverse sense of relief. She stood in the doorway, her hands clasped tightly together as she observed the destruction wrought by Peter's anguish. Her heart ached at the sight of his suffering, but there was a small, dark part of her that felt a twisted satisfaction. Alice's death, if true, would mean the end of Peter's relentless search and the closing of a chapter that had cast a shadow over their lives.