His stomach lurched, and his blood ran colder than the wind outside...

This wasn't real.

It couldn't be.

No, no, no, no...

He was asleep. In a nightmare.

His feet kept moving forward, but he didn't feel like he was doing it. Wasn't walking of his own volition... The nearer he got to the table, the louder he could hear his own pulse in his ears, drowning out the sound of his aunt—of his mother.

He was aware of Nikolai standing and pulling out a chair, next to Aunt Oksana, motioning for him.

"Here, Darling, come sit. What's wrong? Are you not feeling well?"

But Ruslan's eyes were still locked on the form staged on the massive platter in the center of the table, steam rolling off of it and rising into the air like an escaping spirit.

"...W-what is-?" he heard himself say.

Nikolai looked confused, so Ruslan pointed, hand shaking. His eyes were burning from not blinking.

"Don't be stupid, Ruslan, you've had goat before," the Tsarina said detachedly. "Now sit down. You're embarrassing yourself."

"But..."

No. No. No, this wasn't real.

This couldn't... Something inside him snapped.

"Stop!" Ruslan yelled, startling everyone at the table. "Stop! Stop it!" He violently shoved the full plate in front of Aunt Oksana away from her, frantically doing the same to Nikolai's. "Stop eating!"

"Ruslana!?" His mother's shout sounded far away, even though it was piercingly loud.

"No-no-no-no!"

He was hyperventilating. Climbing onto the table, knocking over cups and platers like an animal on his hands and knees. "She's sleeping. She's just sleeping. D-Darya? It's okay—it's okay. You're okay, I'm right here."

His hand touched the pretty, red bow—grabbed a hold of one of the lengths of velvet...

....and Darya's head, resting on a mound of greens and flowers, rolled away from her roasted and filleted body.

The sound that came from Ruslan was almost inhuman.

He screamed, and wailed. It was more than pained. It was wild. Anguished. Enraged—

This was all real.

Horribly, terribly real.

Tears streamed down his cheeks—searing his eyes and robbing him of his unobstructed view of his precious little friend.

"Get her off of there!" Razvan demanded from across the table.

Hands clawed at Ruslan's calves—at his wrists. He was being dragged off the table, and he fell forward, cheek colliding with something sharp just as his glare fixated on his mother—on her mock look of concern and astonishment.

"YOU!" Ruslan roared, snatching one of the knives from Nikolai's place setting.

There were a few screams, some gasps of horror as though his actions were the atrocity. The tsarina stood, then—backing away from the table.

"YOU did this!"

His mother didn't say anything. She just continued to stare at him.

Razvan came briefly into view. "Take her to her room," he ordered.

"See that she stays there until she's come to her senses again," his mother added, in a chillingly detached and cold tone.

"You did this! You did this, you evil, awful bitch! You'll pay! I'll make you pay!!" Ruslan cried—his voice cracking.

But the knife was roughly wrenched out of his hand, before he could make good on his promise, as guards secured his arms behind his back with something tight. His fingers were tingling. "OW! This is your fault! I HATE you!"

"Ruslan, stop it!" Aunt Oksana pleaded, as the guards wrangled Ruslan further away from the tsarina and the rest of the family. "Surely the cook just made a mistake!"

"Let go!! AGHHH!!! Let me go!! I hate you!"

Oksana rushed to Lisa's side, rubbing her arms in a protective, reassuring manner.

"She's lost her mind..." the tsarina muttered while she watched with glassy, wide eyes as the guards carried Ruslan's writhing, and bucking form out of the dining room.

"I hate you! I hate all of you!" With each scream that got further away down the hall, Ruslan's sobs and shouts grew indistinguishable.

"...I'm not a bad mother..."

"Shhhh..." Oksana shushed. "Of course you're not. I'm sure it was all an innocent mistake. Ruslan's just...ill. Very, very ill."

The tsarina blinked as though she'd suddenly just remembered something that brought her some measure of clarity and comfort. "...She's possessed," Lisa whispered, holding one of her delicate hands to her mouth. "Ruslana must be possessed."

Oksana turned away to spit over her shoulder before going for her cup, and picking it up off of its side. She filled it and took a quick drink, before the tsarina took it from her and drank deeply.

After staring at the disastrous state of her table, and catching her breath, Lisa spoke again. "Razvan, send for the clergy...and perhaps Doctor Patrova," she added, tucking a stray strand of hair beneath her veil and retaking her seat. "...her face was bleeding."

The advisor nodded, taking a quick leave of the dining room, and leaving the rest of the family to finish their meal under the blanket of an uncomfortable quiet.

No one had taken anymore from the main course, though whether they didn't out of courtesy to Ruslan or simply for not wanting to appear distasteful or callous to their peers was anyone's guess.

After the conclusion of dinner, some had excused themselves, flitting off to wherever, while the rest of the family was still understandably shaken and had sort of gathered in the drawing room, where they'd spent the last several hours...

None of them really seemed to know why, other than by habit, and perhaps a strong desire to gossip about what had happened...which was largely all they were doing now... Sleep was still out of the question. Ruslan's actions at dinner had been far too disturbing to allow the lighthearted an early bedtime.

Nikolai was among those in the drawing room and had just instructed one of the servants to bring them some drinks and cakes when Oksana joined him and the others in the drawing room. 

"Goodness... You know, I expected Bogdan's death would cause quite the disruption, but I didn't anticipate all of this... Oh, I wish I could help. Heaven knows Raya won't. She's already retired to her room," Oksana said, glancing over at Nikolai. "She's never been the nurturer out of the two of us, you know, even when we were children... Oh, you poor thing, you probably don't want to listen to me babble on right now."

"...The clerics won't allow me to see Ruslan," Nikolai said flatly.

"You'll be permitted soon, I'm sure." Oksana let out an airy sigh. "Ruslan is awfully fortunate that you care so very much. You're truly a saint among men, Nikolai."

Nikolai drew from his pipe. "So I've heard," he replied just before a startling, eerie shriek echoed from the hall.

"What was that?" Oksana said, leaning forward to listen. 

"Help! Help! Someone, please!"

Nikolai hurriedly put down his pipe and rose from his seat, striding to the open doorway and looking out.

A maid, pale as a sun-bleached sheet began running toward him the moment she'd seen a face. "Please! Help!"

"What? What is it?"

The girl was trembling. Shaking like she'd seen a spector.

"It's-it's Mistress Raya! I-I-I-I"

Being the only man in the room with any authority, the rest of the rooms inhabitants had all bunched behind him, curious eyes wide. "Well? Out with it!" he snapped.

The girl forced herself to swallow and gasp a breath of air. "I think she's dead!"

A choir of gasps and whispers clashed against Nikolai's back like an invisible wave to a rocky shore.

"Dead?"

"Y-yes," the maid said, nodding frantically. "She's in her room. I-I-I'll show you. But please, please don't make me go in there again," she said breathlessly as she quickly led him to Raya's room, followed closely by Oksana and most of the family who'd been in the sitting room.

He'd slowed just before reaching the door to Raya's room... It was standing open, soft candle light from within spilling into the hall.

"How did she die?" Nikolai suddenly found himself asking, just before looking in.

The maid couldn't answer, though. She just shook her head, mouth failing to form even the simplest of speech.

With one quick look at a frightened Oksana, Nikolai steeled his nerves, and slowly entered the room.

There, in the center of the floor, was Raya...

She was sprawled out on her back; eyes wide and red, mouth agape, streams of blood oozing from both, and pooling in the tangle of lace and hair beneath her.

Nikolai turned to eye the others, quickly accounting for everyone with him, who'd been in the drawing room.

"...Nikolai?" Oksana called, her voice cracking.

"Don't come in," he said quickly. "Someone find Razvan and fetch one of the priests from Ruslan's room. Quickly!" 

A death like this...didn't look natural. He took a careful step back, and spit three times over his shoulder. All he could do now was wait. He couldn't leave Raya's room. Not without the help of a priest. He feared if he did, something may leave it with him.

So now he was left to contemplate who or what was the culprit...Most of the family had more or less been accounted for, but not all of them...

Then, it occurred to Nikolai that he couldn't recall seeing Alexander at dinner... Then again, he couldn't recall his blatant absence either...

"Is anyone still out there?"

"Yes," Oksana said, after sniffing loudly. "Olesya and a few of the others went to do as you said."

"Did anyone see Lord Sokolov at dinner?" he questioned.

The murmur of discussion briefly filled the hall, the conclusion of which, was that all seemed to have the same difficulty with recalling if Alexander was or wasn't in attendance.

But that's how Alexander had been since he'd arrived... One would think it nearly impossible to not notice such a tall, dark, and strange man. And yet he was so aloof and rarely outspoken that he was easily missed.

Was that Alexander sitting in the corner of the room, or not? Had he come to tea? When had he left? No one could recall...and when Nikolai pointed it out, that only made them all the more suspicious of the peculiar lord from The Hollows...

This chapter was such a sad one and so hard to get out of my mind once it manifested. 😭💔

Any predictions for what's to come? 😨 Any theories as to what happened to Aunt Raya?

Thanks so much for your support!!