The Tower

Beyond the Castle Gardens

"Monroe, wait!"

Cerise hurried down the last few steps, overlooking the gruesome scene of Vorne's death, before running out of the tower.

A cold night breeze fluttered through her hair as Cerise searched desperately for any sight of Monroe. She heard a crunch of sticks and spun around.

Monroe appeared behind her, screaming at the top of her lungs. Cerise grunted as she was pushed to the ground, landing with a thud.

She squirmed on the dirt, trying to catch her breath.

"Monroe!"

Monroe ran towards the stable, lit by a singular lantern. She jumped over the railing of the pen and hurried towards the grey stallion. He startled at her sudden emergence, rising onto his hind legs in fright.

Monroe grabbed onto the stallion's neck as he took off running. She managed to sling her body onto his back as the horse vaulted over the pen, twisting her fingers through his thick mane to stabilize herself.

Cerise lifted her head, gasping as she tucked her head and rolled to the side, nearly trampled by the stallion as he raced past her.

Monroe's black hair was carried off her shoulders as the grey stallion sped into the woods behind the tower, tears streaming down her face as wind surged up her nose.

"Faster!" she said. "Faster!"

The stallion obeyed. He charged under lower hanging tree branches, the leaves smacking Monroe across the head. The distance soon grew between them and the tower, Monroe looking over her shoulder to see the faint light of the stable lantern dissipate until it vanished in the night.

She patted the stallion.

"Alright. Enough," she said.

The grey stallion looked at her and then firmly dug his hooves into the ground, coasting to a gradual halt. Monroe wrapped her arms around his neck once more and locked her feet around his belly, preventing herself from falling off.

The silence and night surrounded her, the faint sounds of crickets and a hoot of an owl breaking the tranquillity of the forest.

The grey stallion walked slowly onwards, Monroe closing her eyes as she wept. She ran her fingers through the stallion's mane and took a stuttered breath.

"We should never have come."

A howl suddenly pulled her attention to the tree line, spooking the stallion as he stumbled back, twisting his head sharply from left to right.

"Easy," Monroe said, patting his neck.

She looked around, shaking as two beady yellow eyes penetrated the darkness, staring at her. They blinked.

A light grey fog had rolled in, revealing two long black ears and a snarling mouth as the creature stepped forward, fangs bared.

Monroe gasped and remembered the trophy mount of a similar creature above the weapon's shrine.

A percussion of howls erupted from behind her, Monroe spinning her torso around to see three more creatures descend upon her from the trees.

She grabbed the horse's mane.

"Run!" she shouted.

The stallion shrieked as the four creatures pounced at them.

"Run!"

The stallion took off, galloping in an unknown direction, the creatures chasing in full pursuit with their claws outstretched.

Monroe titled her body from side to side, evading branches and trees.

The stallion panted, his hot breath warming Monroe's cheeks as they fled deeper into the woods, kicking dirt in their wake.

Monroe looked behind them and watched three of the creatures lunge up the nearest trees and continue the chase across the connected canopy of branches. The stallion followed her eyes and screeched.

Monroe stared ahead, crying out as the fourth creature jumped out in front of them.

She screamed. "Look out!"

The stallion shrieked in agony as he tripped over the creature's body, falling forward.

Monroe gasped, launched into the air as she somersaulted over the stallion's head and hit her head on a passing tree, snapping her neck. She flopped onto the ground, lying motionless, as the stallion wailed and landed on top of her.

***

Cerise's ears twitched as distant howling circulated in the wind.

She ran towards the stable, kicking down the door. Cerise took the lantern by its handheld grip and searched the interior, walking up a narrow hallway with empty pens on either side.

A thick fog drifted through the open shutters, creating a white blanket across the floor that devoured her feet.

Cerise pointed the light towards the pens, revealing piles of old hay and oats.

Something creaked behind her.

Cerise spun around and illuminated the hallway. Nothing but the wind rattling the open stable doors filled her view. With a gulp, she pressed on.

"There has to be something here."

Cerise stopped and lifted the lantern higher. The area in front of her revealed itself, two more pens and a workstation up against the far wall.

Cerise smiled. "That'll do."

She hurried to it, prying open the drawers of the old desk to reveal rusted gardening tools and packets of flower seeds. Cerise set the lantern down next to her and rummaged through the contents, desperate to find anything of use to defend herself.

"Come on. There has to be something. It's hard to believe someone actually works here," she muttered. "It feels like a ghost town."

Cerise's hand touched cold metal, and she fumbled her fingers around a pair of sharp handheld pruning shears. She pulled them free from beneath a pile of seeds and grinned.

"Now, that'll work."

She clutched the shears and grabbed the lantern, spinning around to reveal Vorne's bloody face inches from her.

Cerise went to scream, but he covered her mouth, preventing it. Blood oozed down his neck.

"One is not as they seem," he said, lips quivering.

Cerise stabbed him in the hand with her shears. He cried out in agony and dropped to the ground.

"One... is not as they... seem," he said again. A croak escaped his partially open mouth. Vorne's chest rose, then collapsed, his body going still and eyes unmoving.

Cerise panted, her chest heaving and shoulders drooped forward. She clutched her frizzled blue collar, the once soft fluff now stiff and crusted with dry blood.

She stared at Vorne's corpse, relaying his message in her head before running off.

***

Doran winced as Rolts removed his brown suit jacket, proudly showcasing the red scar that ran across his white shirt. Doran fumbled with the red bow tie around his neck, throwing it to the ground once it came undone.

"You okay?" Rolts asked, looking out the barred window.

Doran loosened the top button of his shirt and winced. "Yeah, I think so."

Rolts stepped away from the window and paced the room, crossing his arms behind his back. He glanced at Doran and smiled faintly.

"Clever move," he said.

Doran lifted his head. "What?"

"Stashing the rifle under the table when the lights went out."

Doran frowned and arched a brow. "I don't know what you mean."

Rolts approached him and leaned across the table. He reached a hand over the edge, pulling the rifle into view. He dropped it in front of Doran, his face deadpan.

"You always went to the same chair," Rolts said. "Armed and ready."

Doran tensed. "I didn't kill Loné," he said.

Rolts picked up the rifle and pointed it at Doran's head. "Prove it."

"Woah! What are you doing?"

"Preparing to shoot you."

"Alright, easy. When the lights went out, I thought it was an attack. I remembered where the rifle was, took it and hid it under the table. I was nowhere near Loné when she was stabbed."

Rolts narrowed his eyes. "What about Vorne? You were closest to him when he fell."

"So were you," Doran rebuked.

Rolts blinked and steadied the rifle. "So was Cerise. Maybe she did it. She had access to the knife."

"Cerise wouldn't kill her sister," Doran said.

"Oh, you know each other well?" Rolts asked.

Doran frowned. "Well enough."

Rolts lowered the rifle and snickered. "My dear chap, she's got you wrapped around her little finger."

"Cerise is not guilty!" Doran said.

Rolts shrugged. "We'll see about that."