Edited by: bafflinghaze
A carriage pulled to a stop in front of an alleyway.
A figure wearing a deerskin cloak stepped out.
“Madam,” a servant bowed.
“Wait here.”
“Yes, Madam.”
She disappeared into the alleyway with silent footsteps.
—
Vespera stood in front of a rundown shop. The door was barely hanging off the hinges. When she went to open it, a vine shot out from the cracks and wrapped itself around her wrist.
Without any hesitation, she held the vine in a death grip and let it squirm in her grasp, giving it a cold look.
“Naughty.”
The vine froze and then melted into a state reminiscent of her younger son whenever he grew flustered.
It suddenly turned an alarming shade of pink before a red flower instantly bloomed at the tip of it.
Vespera expressionlessly walked inside with the vine wrapped around her arm.
The interior of the shop was just as dingy-looking as the outside.
The owner of the establishment, a man with olive skin, emerald green eyes, and white hair, stood behind the counter with a perplexed frown on his face. He wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses that covered a long scar trailing down one of his eyes.
“Sister, how lovely it is to see you.”
“Ortho, you look well.”
Vespera undid the clasp of her cloak and the vine took it to the coat hanger near the counter. It threw all the coats off the hanger before carefully placing the cloak on a hook.
Ortho pursed his lips in displeasure.
His sister made her way over.
“Marriage has softened you,” she said.
Ortho was about to retort when his face suddenly slackened.
A moment later—
His eyes went wide with panic.
“Um…” he swallowed, “Sister-in-law, it is so good to see you. Would you like some water? Tea? Perhaps coffee? Why don’t you sit down and I’ll go get that for you? The weather must be very warm.”
Artho appeared, greeting Vespera as if she were a great ancestor from a distant land. This was his in-law. He hadn’t seen her since he and Ortho accidentally eloped and dragged Malark with them to the Francois Republic.
That was years ago, and the grudge still held strong.
When Malark ran off to elope with the healer from the Polska Nation after the war, Lucian Moores created magic dummies as belated wedding gifts.
The dummies could temporarily house their separate soul particles without harming Malark, so Artho couldn’t stop himself from proposing once they separated.
There was a lot of alcohol involved, and by the time they were aware of what happened, he and Ortho were married.
Malark later advised them to steer clear of Vespera for a while.
He predicted she would be the angriest after Ortho and Artho got married without her knowledge.
It was bad enough he and some herbalist from the Polska Nation also ran off after the end of the Lesser Krieg War, but for Ortho—Vespera and Malark’s half-brother—to be eloping with an entity like Artho—it became somewhat of a scandal.
Their parents had so many expectations for Vespera to be the eloping child, but they were wrong.
They were so very wrong.
Between Vespera, Malark, and Ortho, she was the only one with a marriage license issued by the Rhine Empire.
“Artho,” Vespera’s lips pulled into a murderous snarl, “I take it you have been treating my brother kindly.”
It was not a question, but a statement with only one answer.
“A-ah, yes?” The answer had come out as a question, however, which resulted in a nasty death glare aimed toward Artho at full force.
“I mean, yes! Yes, yes. Yes, of course! Of course, I treat Ortho with all the respect and kindness he deserves…”
Artho trailed off.
“…Ma’am.”
“Mhm.”
Ever since the elopement, Artho avoided Vespera like the plague. He would have been fine never appearing before her as long as he existed.
But not today.
Today, Malark pushed him to the front.
Why? Because Artho accidentally over-watered his Moon Dew Flowers…
It took Malark nearly three days to save the roots from rotting, so he was feeling particularly vindictive and vengeful.
“You should save him. Artho is acting like a fool,” Ortho said within their shared mind space. They could see Artho frantically heating the kettle and then nearly burning their hand on the heating talisman.
Malark snorted. “If he had read my instructions clearly, he wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“Siccing sister on him isn’t going to teach him shit, Malark. I’ll pay for the damage to the plants. How much Nectar Serum do you still need?”
Malark clicked his tongue. “… Three jars,” he admitted begrudgingly.
“I’ll go to the market after closing up. Go help him.”
With a little push from Ortho, Malark changed places with Artho.
When he appeared, he found himself pouring coffee into a cup like he was a waiter from a five-star restaurant.
The coffee spilled all over the table during the change.
What the hell, Artho?
Malark wordlessly dumped half the overfilled cup into a flower pot and handed the rest over to his sister.
“Why have you come, sister?”
Vespera noticed the minute shift and snorted.
She took a sip of the coffee Artho brewed, glared at it, and then made a noise of approval.
“It is an urgent matter regarding your nephew,” she said.
There was a biting tension in her tone, and Malark instantly sensed the seriousness of the situation.
He went over to the grandfather clock and banged on it a few times. The clock came to life and started ticking. When it reached 5:35, there was a distinctive click within the body.
He opened it.
“After you.” He gestured.
Behind the grandfather clock was a winding staircase that led into total darkness.
Vespera took a step forward, but a vine curled around her waist and tugged her back.
She raised a well-trimmed brow, amused, and turned to her brother.
“I’ll meet you down.”
She wrapped her hands around two of the vines like a swing, tugged once, twice, and then the vine pulled her into the grandfather clock.
Malark stood there, dumbfounded, as he realized his sister basically took the only shortcut down those ridiculous stairs.
Boey is a fucking idiot and needs a trim.
The uncharitable thought, unsurprisingly, made Artho unhappy.
Don’t call him that! You’ll hurt his feelings.
Malark conjured an image of a cleave chopping a boa vine into little pieces for a summertime salad.
The inner shrieking of horror and fury that could only belong to Artho was music to his ears.
—
By the time he made it down to his underground nursery, he found his sister teasing one of the plants that was obviously marked with a DO NOT TOUCH sign next to it.
“Sister, must you? Those are Delusion Daisies.”
She turned to him with a raised brow.
Right, they don’t work on her.
Malark gestured to the plants. “Security has tightened since last month.”
The frown on Vespera’s face grew. “Should I presume the underground has something to do with it?”
“The activities of the Iron Lotus and the Syndicate have suddenly stopped in the last few weeks. We suspect it has to do with the succession of the next Head.”
Malark led them to a sitting room.
The “sitting room” wasn’t really a sitting room, but rather a secluded area in the back of the nursery with a few chairs and a makeshift table.
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Malark hesitantly stated, “There is news of a… illegitimate grandson who appeared last month.”
Vespera scoffed. “My family has no time for useless criminal rebellions. You will be responsible for the investigation.”
“Certainly,” her brother acknowledged. “Our trackers found something the other day. We believe their headquarters are in the east.”
“Make sure they don’t lose the scent. Have them search the mountains and deserts. They would have to find something eventually.”
The order was clear, and Malark agreed to it immediately. They have been monitoring the situation ever since the news of a potential succession war within the Iron Lotus and the Syndicate started to surge.
The last time the Castas Family went through a succession war, the casualties were numerous and affected many civilians.
After the event, the Imperial Family made a secret decree to all the noble families with the proper clearances.
The succession wars of the Castas Family needed to be contained. They should have known better than to get civilians involved.
Malark lowered his voice, “A few of our contacts have gone missing. They have their hands dipped in more pies than we initially expected.”
Vespera crossed her arms and leaned back against her chair. “Give me a list and I’ll see what I can do. Any word on their leader?”
Malark shook his head. “Some of our remaining contacts claim there’s a power struggle happening in the inner circle. After the coup, the head’s granddaughter became the Lotus Flower and took over the Iron Lotus, but we don’t know anything about the Syndicate, yet. The current Castas Head is still leading that group.”
“I take it they’re now making a fuss due to the appearance of another candidate?”
Again, Malark lowered his voice even more.
“The grandson showed up out of nowhere. No one knows who he is, but he claims to be the true heir. Many in the Inner Circle are supporting him despite his illegitimacy.”
Vespera narrowed her eyes. “Not unexpected. The granddaughter purged most of the Inner Circle of the Iron Lotus when she became the Lotus Flower.” Her voice grew colder than the Northern Tundras. “You should check on the activities of the Moores Family,” she advised.
Malark tilted his head curiously. “The Moores?”
“Nazareth has contact with the youngest. My husband thinks little of it, but Lucian isn’t in charge anymore.”
This time, it was Malark whose gaze sharpened. “You believe they have something to do with the Iron Lotus?”
“You seem to have forgotten after stepping away from the aristocracy. The Countess is the granddaughter.”
For a few moments, Malark didn’t answer as he only stared at her in surprise.
How could he forget?
No one knew who Astella Moores was when she first showed up many years ago with a child, claiming Lucian was the father. It caused a great scandal throughout Noble Society and sent further ripples once Lucian agreed to marry her.
The Arcadias worked with the Odums to investigate Astella’s background.
At first, they found nothing.
But then, with the help of the Elysiums and their contacts… they discovered everything.
Lucian’s new wife was a Castas, the sole remaining heir to the underground throne.
Why she decided to enter the aristocracy was a mystery no one could figure out. In the end, they could only wait for the other shoe to drop.
“… You came to us for an urgent matter, Sister. I doubt it’s about the affairs of the underground. Why have you come to visit?”
“My son has been poisoned.”
“Aurelion?” Malark cocked his head—and then, after a pause, he asked, “Again?”
Vespera scowled, her face thunderous. “No. Nazareth.”
“…”
“You’re shocked.”
His expression contorted in confusion. “Step-nephew knows much about these things. How could he fall to poison?”
Nazareth was not immune to poisons—he wasn’t a Peregrine, after all—but most common poisons found in the market didn’t work on him.
Malark wanted him as an apprentice ever since the boy began coming to his shop, but the boy’s recent interest in medicinal herbs seemed to outweigh his interest in poisons.
This was surprising since Nazareth was once heavily interested in toxicology. Malark still remembered the little boy who first came into the apothecary with that neat little book of his, pointing at the Morphine Poppies with a stroppy face.
The boy knew exactly what the plants were and their purpose, the spark of intelligence in his eyes clear as day.
Malark and the others moved without thinking of the consequences, the three of them wholly agreeing that this boy’s talent needed to be nurtured.
It was even better when they found out he was their sister’s stepson.
Nazareth reminded Malark of himself before Ortho and Artho came along.
He used to devour those ancient tombs on poisonous plants like no other, to the point that his parents grew concerned over time when his library grew.
Yet, he never intended to do any harm until the war.
For the Rhine Empire and the Imperial Crown, his skills were at their disposal.
There was never a moral compass for them to navigate.
They were Arcadias. It stood to reason they only followed their determination and shared a single reverse scale.
Their Family.
So was it wise of him and his brother and brother-in-law to give a few Fire Nettles to a little kid?
No.
Did they still do it, though?
Yes.
It had felt like a pull, really.
They wondered how far the boy would go to learn the many secrets of poison.
Malark saw himself in Nazareth, saw the potential in those clever vermillion eyes that wanted desperately to know… so he began supplying him with the poisons, expecting him to research and dissect every part of the plant.
Their side effects, their death rates, and how quickly they killed.
Perhaps, if Malark had known that his sister’s stepson used these poisons to kill innocent people, he would have never given them to Nazareth.
Perhaps, if Malark had known he, Ortho, and Artho—in another lifetime—would be implicated for treason, for allowing a traitor of the Empire access to deadly poisons, he would have killed Nazareth himself to prevent the horrors of the years to come.
It had never occurred to them that a child of the Odum could do such evil.
Despite having gone through war and bloodshed, their love for their family blinded them from the truth—and in another lifetime, they paid the price for their ignorance.
“He was poisoned twice,” Vespera explained with a look of murder in her eyes as she remembered her son bleeding all over the bed.
Malark nodded in understanding, still unsure of the severity of the situation. “How did this matter come to be?”
“Tea party,” his sister said. “His drink was laced with Ricin Flower.”
“That should be an easy fix—”
“We fixed the problem,” Vespera snapped, though Malark knew she didn’t mean to be so vicious. He could tell it’d been hard on her. “But it was during his recovery that we believe the perpetrator did something else.”
Vespera brought out a small piece of fabric that looked to have been roughly cut out. It was a piece of white bedsheet stained with dried blood—Nazareth’s blood.
She threw it on the table. “We don’t know what happened, but he started bleeding. He needed a transfusion.”
Malark wordlessly picked up the fabric. Upon closer inspection, he saw a small purple stain that stood out.
Hidden beneath the scent of iron and rust, there was a floral smell that remained.
“Yellow Trileaves.” Artho recognized the unbearably sweet scent of the poison plant.
“But there’s something more to it,” Malark noted. “It doesn’t stain purple.”
Vespera continued, “It’s been a week. We brought the imperial healer, but he is not waking up. They believe he will be… asleep. For a very long time.”
Her voice lacked any inflection, but Malark was her brother. He could hear how distraught she was by the occurrence, and he felt his own agitation stirring in the pit of his stomach.
“You’re done.”
He felt Ortho give him a gentle push in the back of his mind.
“What?”
“You’re getting too worked up for this conversation. I’m taking over.”
“Hold on—”
Ortho pushed himself to the surface while Malark was caught off-guard.
After all, Nazareth was his favorite nephew.
He loved Aurelion and Guinivere equally, but Nazareth visited the most.
Putting his glasses back on, he met his sister’s gaze calmly.
The description of the double poisoning reminded him of something similar that happened several years ago.
“Do you remember the incident with the current Elysium Heir? The symptoms are uncanny. Bleeding orifices and comatose state. It could be something different, but the child lived due to an unorthodox treatment.”
While she did hear about Eubulous’ current heir being poisoned a few years back, Vespera wasn’t told of the details that transpired. Eubulous kept the news hidden, and many of their friends respected his wishes.
But an unorthodox treatment…
Even the imperial healer wasn’t able to cure Nazareth of his ailings.
“Who was the healer who performed the treatment?”
“Do you remember Laurel Elysium?” he asked.
She blinked. “Eubulous’ wife?”
“The very same. She was the one who oversaw the healing procedures for the child.”
Eubulous fell in love with Laurel when she appeared at the lowest point in his life. The two of them got married in a private ceremony.
Vespera should know.
She and Gareth served as one of the witnesses.
But there was one problem with getting Laurel to help.
“She no longer takes patients. She retired after getting married,” Vespera couldn’t help but point out.
Laurel was a known healer before she retired. Vespera suspected she helped in the treatment of her stepson, but she wasn’t aware she led the operation.
Eubulous was thorough in keeping her identity out of the papers.
Ortho grimaced, “Her techniques are considered heretical. If the Church hears about it, you know what they will do to her.”
Vespera clicked her teeth. “The Church has always been an eyesore. If anyone were to go against their methods, they claim it is the work of an evil god.”
“We require them at this moment. We cannot remove them until the people are ready. Not to mention, the Saint and Saintess are still being held there.”
Vespera’s gaze sharpened when she heard the words “Saint” and “Saintess.”
“If they try anything, you can start speeding up the process of their destruction. It’s about time the people started believing in new religions.”
“I cannot agree more.”
Vespera stood, and Ortho stood with her.
It was time for her to leave.
“Your husband has some talent for brewing.”
“Among other things.”
They headed for the stairs.
“We will see what we can do, Sister. Please invite us over when you find the perpetrator who poisoned our dear Step-Nephew.”
“I will offer a quarter of their flesh to torture.”
“That is acceptable.”
—
Astella read the reports and frowned.
The boy was resilient.
As expected of Alouysia’s monstrous son, not even a dose of her hummingbird poison could keep him down for long.
“Llewyn.”
“What is it?” The servant appeared from behind her.
“Tell Thomas to give the boy a dose of what was sent to her.”
Astella threw the reports into the fireplace and watched the papers burn.
Llewyn bowed his head, “She may not agree after poisoning him twice.”
After all, the girl was already risking her sister’s life during the first attempt, and the second attempt was even more dangerous with all the Odum servants patrolling the manor.
Astella looked at the servant coldly. “She will know what is good for her if she wants her sister safe.”
Llewyn kept his head down and silently accepted the order.
—
The Odum Manor. Evening.
Young Master Nazareth’s heart stopped.
The healing barrier raised around him changed from its pale, shimmery blue to a blood-like red in a matter of seconds.
Healers swarmed into the room when they found their magic pulsing erratically.
“Someone! Get the Duke!”
The heart crystal on the bedside, tethered to the heartbeat of Young Master Nazareth, flatlined.
They were losing the patient.
The Duke rushed inside with wide eyes.
He looked terrible. His face was pale and lined with stress while exhaustion lined his eyes with dark circles.
“Your Grace—”
“We don’t have time for this!”
A healer began chest compressions.
Another checked for breath.
A third began to write out electric talismans, in case they would have to perform defibrillation on the patient.
—
Where was he?
Neo found himself in a room.
A room covered by stars.
My dear, let me tell you a story.
The limbo of life and death was like a dance. He was like an acrobat on a tightrope, and beneath it were flames that burned and burned and burned.
He couldn’t see what was beyond him.
There was something standing in the center of all the stars. They wore a cloak made from the cosmos and were shrouded by light and darkness. They had hands made from nebula clouds and eyes forming large celestial pools.
They turned their heads and met Neo’s gaze.
A gasp, the sound of frantic shuffling, hands scribbling something into the stars.
What was it? What were they doing?
He tried to take a closer look, but then, the ground came out from under him and he was falling and falling and falling, and that melody—!
‘Yellow flower, gold and bright
Make a wish with your might
No more tears
Never fear
I am here beside you’
—
“There’s a pulse!”
Every person in the room gasped in relief.
“Will my son be alright?”
“It’s very weak, but the boy lives, Your Grace.” The Imperial Healer approached the Duke. “We must give him Lifeline Support. He will need to be tethered to someone’s lifestrand. Perhaps your other son or daughter—”
“I’ll do it.”
Gareth interrupted him before he could go further.
He was familiar with the lifeline process.
He did it for his sister in the past.
Lifeline Support, as the healers called it, was a technique used to tether a person’s life to a patient. It was to ensure that the patient would survive if anything were to happen—such as the stopping of the heart.
The tethering only lasted until the patient either woke up or was out of the immediate danger of dying.
Since Nazareth was currently experiencing neither of these things, how could Gareth not volunteer to be his son’s lifeline?
“Your Grace, I cannot let you do this,” the healer immediately rejected the idea.
A person could only tether themselves once in a lifetime, for safety reasons.
The Duke of Odum would put himself at risk of draining his life core!
“I thought it through and I insist.” Gareth started to unbutton his shirt.
“Please, Your Grace. We cannot risk losing you! You are an important figure—”
“I am the only one who can provide Lifeline Support for Nazareth, Healer Wardolf,” Gareth snapped.
The healer fell silent.
He looked at Gareth in confusion, and then in horror.
“Lady Auria’s mutation—”
“Enough!” The glare Gareth aimed at the healer was enough to freeze him on the spot. “We will not discuss this any further. Nazareth is my son. I will be the lifeline. You may start the procedure.”
Gareth made no room for further arguments. The other healers shut their mouths and went to work.
Looking back, he knew he was lacking as a father.
He never understood his eldest son.
Nazareth was strong, and his strength made him reliable, yet he did so many terrible things and Gareth chose to overlook them.
Nazareth being poisoned awoken something long buried.
That child he brought home from the streets of the Red Light District was all grown up and becoming someone unrecognizable.
How much did he miss?
Was it too late for him?
Gareth approached the bed of his sleeping son.
The rise and fall of his chest, weak and small and slow, showed he was at least alive.
He reached down and tried to smooth out the wrinkles between his son’s brow.
He failed, but he wasn’t afraid of trying.
Gareth reached for one of Nazareth’s hands—it used to be so small—and gave it a little squeeze.
He was such a scrawny and malnourished child.
“Are you ready, Your Grace?”
A healer brought out a pair of scissors.
“Go ahead.”
They undid the ribbon around his hair and started cutting a good portion of the black locks off.
Hair was deeply intertwined with protective magic energy, hence, many magicians tended to keep their hair long for this reason.
For a man like the Duke of Odum, protection spells were imbued into his hair to hide the base of his neck where the lifestrand was. In order to perform Lifeline Support, they needed to cut his hair so it wouldn’t distract from the tethering.
Another healer appeared with a tethering blade.
“Please bear with us, Your Grace. This might sting.”
A small athame dagger was held at an angle. The edge carefully sliced a horizontal line between the scapular bones, over the scars from his previous experience serving as his sister’s lifeline.
Gareth faced the bed with indifference in his eyes as the healers carved runes into his back, up the protrusions of his spine, and then against the base of his neck.
Blood flowed out and trickled down his back.
His focus was solely on his son and the feeling of a too-cold hand in his own.
Gareth couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a child.
‘Please, if you are listening…’
‘Please don’t take this child away…’
‘Please… Please… Please…’
—
Tybalt and Finneas entered the store with quiet steps.
Khartier was closed, the last of Royce’s clients leaving out the front door with a cheerful smile on her face. Her necklace and earring set glimmered in the setting sun.
Royce stepped out from behind the store counter and calmly gestured to a set of stairs near the corner.
Tybalt and Finneas took it as permission to follow him up.
The three of them entered a small meeting space and each took a seat around a table.
There was a grim air between them that sat heavily on their shoulders.
“Any news so far?” Royce asked.
Tybalt shook his head. “Odum Manor is on full lockdown. No one has seen the Duke and Duchess leave.”
“Odum’s safety comes first. If he’s still down, it will be impossible to move forward in the investigation.” Finneas was tense as he stated the facts clearly. He turned to Royce. “What is the point of this meeting?”
Royce stared at him, and then he glanced at Tybalt.
Finally, he said, “This didn’t happen in the last timeline. Neo was never poisoned.”
“You and Odum already changed the timeline. Your foreknowledge is no longer reliable.” Finneas bluntly stated.
“I think you’re right about that.” Royce threw a letter on the table. “I didn’t need to leave for the Holy City in the last timeline, either.”
They all looked at the letter.
“When are you leaving?”
“Five days.”
Finneas cursed.
Tybalt didn’t say anything.
Royce rubbed the bridge of his nose as if the gesture would soothe his frustration.
“Father decided I should be put in charge of the Pilgrimage this year. There was someone in the Holy City who heard about my achievements with Khartier and wanted to speak with me.”
“We will go with you.” It was Finneas who said this.
“No.” Tybalt suddenly stood up. Before the other two could ask why, he said, “One of us has to stay. If the three of us are gone, there won’t be anyone to check on Naza.”
Royce frowned. “You suspect something will happen once we’re gone?”
“Whoever this is, they’re aware of our connections with Naza. They don’t want us in the way.”
“That’s stupid,” Finneas scoffed, “We’re children.”
Tybalt glanced at him, “Are we?”
The room went quiet.
Were they?
Under the leadership of Nazareth, could they still be counted as children?
After everything they’ve done, would anyone see them as harmless boys?
Tybalt made a decision.
“I will hold down the fort in the Capitol. The two of you will go to the Holy City.”
Royce and Finneas opened their mouths to interject, but Tybalt shut them down quickly.
He stood up and started to pace.
“Our enemies are cautious, but they’re also stupid. You said it yourself, Royce. Someone wants to speak with you about Khartier, and this letter arrived when?”
“… Three days ago.”
“Exactly.” Tybalt’s mind whirled with calculations. “Naza is poisoned and suddenly the people from the Church want to speak with you, the owner of a jewelry store. What type of jewelry do the people of the Holy City wear? Because the last time I checked, they only wear blessed silver crafted by their own hands.”
“…”
Oh shit. Finneas thought.
A sly and cunning smile appeared on Tybalt’s lips, but he was far from amused.
“Royce, I think it’s time we started hunting.”
The other drummed his fingers on the table.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“You want us to follow the trail.”
The smile widened. “Nobody would mind a disappearance from the Holy City. It was simply the will of the gods.”
Royce hummed.
Yes, it would simply be the will of the gods.
“Finnias, can you show me the layout of the Holy City?”
Finneas’ eyes glowed gold for a brief moment as magic pulsed dangerously inside him. He grinned.
“How much do you want to see? I got the whole fucking map.”
—
Step 44. Uncover a conspiracy. If you’re down for the count, please request a friend or loved one to help you.
thank you for the chapter! i’m so worried about naza :((
This is a fascinating story. Character depth is amazingly detailed. Waiting for whenever the next chapter comes out.
Like always, @Clowd never miss and keep me f0ck1ng obssesed with this novel. God blees this person for this art.
Naza hang on… Thanks for the update ❤️❤️❤️
Neo please recover soon 😢
Also… the poisonous b*tch knew Naza’s mother? Interesting…
Yea, lovely, awesome. I totally won’t be obsessing over this until the next chapter. No, until Naza’s ok again. And the culprits got caught. Yea, let’s not lie to myself, I’ll still be obsessing even when that’s happened. It’s one of those stories I just can’t get out of my head. Why do you do this to me.
Ty for the chapter 🌷 This is so interesting 🌻
Poor Nazareth. I’m so happy hes sorrounded by loyal people
And I don’t care if that Llewellyn girls’ sister is held hostage I hope Nazareths parents torture her😭
Omg it’s been 3 years I think? Or maybe 1-2 years ago