[i]Cornelia[/i] Within the halls of her former home, Cornelia feels bitter. Here in this place her story began. She remembers the thrill of ending her father’s life that fateful day. She gazes at the place she stood when she pulled the trigger. But she is bitter because she is not here to remember her father. She is here to see her sister. “Cornelia?” A soft, womanly voice asks to her left. The girl turns her head to the old hag standing in the hall. Diana Maron, once a tall, straight woman of class, had become lower than the Fallen. She had seen her family crumble, her children become divided, her house fall to ruin. Now she is alone, and her age has begun to take over her. “Mother,” Cornelia sneers. “It’s been too long since –“ “I’m not here for you,” the Warlock interrupts. “I’m here for my sister. Where is she?” The woman closes her eyes sadly. “She is gone, Cornelia. She died six days ago.” “I didn’t say I wanted to talk with her. Take me to her, mother.” Diana sighs quietly and turns. “Come this way.” And so they walk through the manse. Cornelia looks at all the portraits, all the antiques, the paintings, and remembers that it all confirmed her family’s vanity. She knew she would continue the tradition, but not as her family did. She would not accumulate wealth for the purpose of vanity, but for show of strength and power. She would intimidate those who came before her and make them cower. She would show herself strong and not weak. A lady, and a warrior. The two arrive at the courtyards and Cornelia's mother leads on to the back of the gardens. There, Cornelia sights a single, lonely grave. She approaches it and reads the words written on the stone aloud. “’Here lies Fiona Maron, daughter to Gerald Maron, Lord of House Crimson. May the Traveler find her.’” She pauses. “That's all? Nothing about ‘beloved sister' or ‘defender of family?’ This grave dishonor her, mother.” Diana is silent. Cornelia turns to face her, angry tears streaming down her face. “She deserved more than this. She deserves a monument, and we gave her a stone!” She quickly wipes her eyes and looks away. “You look cold,” her mother remarks. “I’m not!” Diana sighs quietly again and approaches her daughter. She lays a hand on her shoulder. “I wish you could have said goodbye, as you did for your brother.” “Fiona was not perfect – she deserved to die, as much as I hate to say it. Dred did not. He was too young. He should’ve lived with us – with me. I wanted to watch him…” Cornelia clears her throat. “I wanted to watch him grow. And he didn’t. He rots in a grave far from this place.” “Don’t trouble yourself more than necessary, Cornelia.” “I’ve brought more than enough trouble upon myself. All of it intended and purposeful.” Diana retracts her hand slowly. “What do you mean?” Cornelia looks up with a weak smile. “I’m going to end him. And her. And all those that placed me below them.” “Who?” “Rys and Tetra. Tetra and Rys. The Warlock and the Huntress. He ruined me, she rubbed it in. I will have vengeance.” “You have started down a path no one will follow. Do not expect saving from this, Cornelia.” She scoffs. “Aunt Karn said the same. Except I know there are people who WILL follow me. I know of two that I will find after this. Just watch me, mother. You’ll see.” The Warlock brushes past the woman and calls behind her, “Best to stay here, mother. I wouldn’t want you getting caught between me and my prey.” “Neither would I…madam Warlock.” Cornelia roars with laughter as she exits the garden.