Manuel gently placed Manon in his arms, the imprints of her body unforgettable remains on the ground which was pooling with blood. He gazed at the cold and lifeless bodies of his aunt and cousin, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Manuel felt hot tears surface in his eyes, but he blinked them back.

He repeated the same vow he had made when his parents had been brutally killed. Not a single drop of tear would escape his eyes. He wouldn’t shed any skin on sorrow. Not when the people responsible for their death still lurked the earth, feeding and leeching off the people in the kingdom.

Manuel moved closer towards his aunt and cousin and placed a soft kiss on their forehead. He knew he didn’t have enough time to give them a proper burial, the district magistrate would arrive soon after hearing the news and Manuel had to flee with Manon before he could get caught.

Manuel knelt on the ground, Manon resting in his arms, and lifted his head upwards towards the sky, shutting his eyes close. The silence was chaotic and the cutting wind breezed past him, causing the cherry tree to rustle wildly. The leaves of the tree curled up, turning into painful shades of yellow and brown, rotting. They emitted an awful stench, but Manuel wasn’t fazed by that.

The sky clapped thunder and carried Manson and Mora’s souls, making them one with the air.

Manuel took a deep breath and stood up.

“Farewell,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

***

Manuel hastened his pace as the horse hoofs of the magistrate’s soldiers resounded in the air. He clutched Manon tightly, cutting right, towards the physician’s house.

The physician, Xavier, was very old but extremely skilled. He had been incharge of Manuel’s family, back when they still had the status of royalty. He had fled along with Mora and aided her in Manon’s birth, after her husband, King Manlin IV, had been killed. He did regular checkups on their family, claiming that it was his duty and that once a master, always a master. There was no one Manuel could trust right now, except him. And Lena.

Manuel knew that something was wrong with the way Nazim had asked for Manon instead of Lena. It seemed as though he knew that Lena was not there, that she was missing. Maybe, he had thought that they hid her. Was that why he had provoked him using Manon? Manuel shook his head. He would first have Manon treated and then discuss Lena’s disappearance with Xavier.

Manuel knocked on the wooden door three times, two soft knocks followed by a loud one. Then he drummed the wood once with the tip of his fingers. Manuel could hear the loud thumping of footsteps. Then, there was silence. A second later, the door swung open.

Xavier glanced at Manuel with shock, wondering why he was there so late at night. His forehead crinkled with lines of worry as he glanced at Manon’s stiff and pale body wrapped in Manuel’s arms.

“Prince-” Xavier started but Manuel rushed inside and kicked the door shut, cutting him off. Manuel placed Manon on the cot that lay in one of the rooms, moving towards the windows and pulling all the shutters down in a frenzy. He couldn’t risk even the smallest possibility of escaping from their sight.

“The district magistrate is looking for us,” Manuel said to Xavier, pausing to inhale, “We need a place to hide for the night and get Manon treated.”

Xavier fumbled, his eyes wide. “But, why is the magis…” Manuel gave him a searing look, fire dancing in his eyes, and the physician immediately closed his parted lips.

Manuel sighed, wiping the sweat droplets that were forming at the tip of his eyebrows. “Please get Manon treated first,” he said, “I’ll explain the details to you after that.”

Xavier nodded. It was after all an order from his young master. He had no choice or heart but to listen.

Manuel watched through the long hours of the night as Xavier treated Manon. His shoulders sagged with relief when Xavier had told him that Manon’s physical recovery wouldn’t have much problem. He ran his left hand through Manon’s silk hair, his long fingers leaving warm touches on her cheek and eyes as she clutched his other hand in a tight embrace, cocooning herself closer to him.

Manuel pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as he thought about how he would explain what had happened to Manon after she woke up. He clearly remembered how it felt when he had seen his parents die; the grief behind their demise had followed him and tainted him so much that now it was a part of him, like an arm or a leg that one would feel disabled without.

He didn’t want Manon to go through those feelings. How could he tell her, sweet little Manon, that her mother and brother had died and that her sister was missing? How could he make her go through the same turmoil of emotions he had once experienced, the ones that made him lie awake in bed, boiling with revenge and seeking death?

Manon rolled over, the thin blankets that he had wrapped on her a couple of hours ago slightly slipping off. Manuel slowly loosened his arm, over which her hand was hooked, and tried to pull away, his hands moving to the blanket to put it back on her. Just as he was about to tuck her in, Manuel felt two doe eyes staring at him through the cloth.

Manon was awake.

Manuel felt his hands sweat and he clenched them tightly. He masked the dread on his face and gave her a warm smile, maintaining his distance. He didn’t know how she would react to him, after the wrenching incident in Nazim’s Manor.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice betraying how guilty and empty he felt on the inside. Manon gazed at her fingers, at the dirt that was stuck between her nails from the scratches she had clawed on the ground as Nazim had taken away her innocence. The bandages on her body seemed like a trophy to Manuel, she had survived it and he couldn’t be any more proud of her, even though it pained him to see her with the scars that would always remind her of what had happened.

“Manuel,” she whispered, her voice raspy, her hands trembling as everything that had taken place the previous night rushed back to her. She stood up, stumbling, the cold floor sending chills up her bare legs.

“Yes, love,” he said, his eyes warm and comforting.

“I..I…” she paused, a tear trailing down her cheek, “Can I see myself in the mirror, please?”

Manuel held her arm as she limped towards the mirror that was perched on the wall opposite the bed. Manon glanced at herself in the mirror, trailing her fingers over every new scar and every new memory that had consumed her body.

“Mother and brother, they…” her voice cracked.

"Mother wouldn't die. She couldn't..." she whispered. Manon's voice trembled and she felt her world shatter as realization struck her like a thousand lightning bolts. Pursing her lips stolidly, she tried her best to control the cry that was threatening to escape her throat. A tear crawled down her face cautiously and disappeared past her collarbone. More tears streamed down.

Manuel placed a hand on her back, cautiously, trying not to overwhelm her.

“It’s alright,” he said, softly stroking her hair, “Cry your heart out. Don’t hold back.” He didn’t want her to be like him, to become the psycho he was, wanting to prey on others' fear and always feeling the need to be in control. He didn’t want that for her.

The knots of her braid came apart as she sunk to the floor. Silky locks of snow cascaded down her back, some gliding past her feathery eyebrows and her scarred left eye. The taste of her silent tears across her frosted lips was salty and Manon basked in the comfort of the cold.

Manuel watched silently as Manon reached for the broken necklace that was wound around her neck. The locket in its center was split in half and it seemed dimmer than usual, emitting an essence of anguish. Manson had given it to her on her sixth birthday, when she was still an innocent child unaware of the cruel nature of the world.

She wrapped her hands around it securely as bitterness took over her heart.