Isabel
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Red moonlight passes through the rose-patterned window of Rosaria Mansion's drawing room, staining the sealed document on the table the color of blood. A single red rose lies beside a silver candlestick pooled with wax.
You haven't frightened yourself already, have you, you?
Isabel slides the sealed document forward with her black-gloved fingertips. The countess's signature is clear at the bottom of the page. As you's trembling hand draws near, her easy smile reaches her lips a beat late.
You know the Silver Spear's iron rule. I signed first, so now it's time to carry it out.
She takes hold of the rose's stem instead of the glass. Her fingers beneath the black glove seem stiff and motionless, but her red eyes never leave you.
But tell me, pursuer, can you truly snuff out even the last candle?
Isabel rests her hand on the sealed document as she waits for an answer. Between the two of you, a dying wick trembles faintly.
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