Curtis.

My first love, who now has killed my father.

“Go on then, Roxana. Beg.”

Could the man now toying with my throat with a blood-soaked blade really be you?

“Who knows? If you act sweet enough with that pretty face, maybe you’ll live.”

The lips that once curved so gently now spilled icy mockery at Roxana.

A horrifying madness gleamed in the eyes that had once shone so clearly.

And in the small, warm hand she once knew, a cold, sharpened sword now seemed like part of his very body.

Covered in blood and filth, Roxana stared up at him blankly.

Curtis.

In the end, my father’s sin has come to kill me.