In Another's Silence

Cinder Curse

Warning: Dear Readers, before you continue with this chapter, I want to give you a gentle warning. The events that unfold include graphic scenes and emotionally heavy content, which may be distressing for some readers.

The chapter delves into themes of loss, judgment, and complex family dynamics, revealing a darker side of the story's world. Please ensure that you are in a comfortable space before reading, and take your time if you need a break.

Your well-being is important, so don't hesitate to step away if you find it too intense. Thank you for your understanding and for joining me on this journey.

With care,
ParkAaimin.

Chapter 8: (Author's pov)

Suddenly, a muffled sound from below caught her attention, crying again. It was a wretched, heart-wrenching sob, echoing through the stillness of the night. It was coming towards her window, so she decided to walk towards the window.

She was already crying, and curious with a little unease that prickled at her as she tiptoed to her window. She pushed aside the thin lace curtain and leaned out, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was happening. What she saw made her heart stop, her breath catching in her throat.

Down below, in the dim light of the gas lamps that lined the muddy street, stood Mrs. Isla Pembroke, her frail shoulders shaking with grief. The old woman clutched her shawl around her, but it did nothing to hide the deep, terrible sorrow etched into her face. Her cries pierced the evening air.

But it was what lay in front of Isla that made Irabella's blood run cold. A lifeless figure sprawled in the mud, drenched in the evening rain. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a shiver down her spine.

Down on the cobblestone path, it wasn't just the sight of Isla that rooted Irabella in place, it was what lay before her. There, sprawled out in a pool of dark, glistening blood, was Lunaria Pembroke. The young woman's body was twisted unnaturally, her pale hands lying limply at her sides, fingers curled as if they had been grasping for something.

Her face was turned slightly upward, eyes wide open, staring unseeingly into the rain-soaked sky. Crimson streaks stained her cheeks and the white of her dress, marking the places where life had drained away.

Irabella's breath caught in her throat as she took in the scene, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a horrified gasp. Lunaria's neck bore deep, jagged cuts, and her once-beautiful chestnut hair was matted with blood, sticking to the cobblestones beneath her head.

It was clear that life had been brutally torn from her body, leaving nothing but a hollow shell. The body was twisted unnaturally, limbs askew, and blood stained the earth beneath her like a dark, spreading pool.

Lunaria Pembroke was the daughter of Isla Pembroke. Her long, dark hair, once as beautiful as a raven's wing, was now matted with mud and streaked with red, clinging to her pale, lifeless face. Her dress, torn and muddied, clung to her slender frame, revealing the bruises and wounds that marked her final moments.

Irabella's hand was stifling a gasp as she took in the terrible scene. Lunaria's eyes were open, but they stared into nothingness, unseeing. The rain, which had once seemed like a gentle drizzle, now beat down with a harsh rhythm, mingling with the blood that ran down her still body, washing it into the gutters like a macabre river.

Irabella could hardly believe what she was seeing. Lunaria wasn't her closest friend, but they had exchanged smiles in the market and polite greetings when they crossed paths. They had shared occasional conversations, speaking of mundane things like the weather or the latest happenings in their small village. And now, she lay there lifeless, her body discarded like something unwanted.