Dark brown heeled boots settle onto the gravel. Mocha eyes scan the barren area. It’s a walk to the place she’s trying to get to as no one is willing to go anywhere near the place. Beside her a face so familiar she doesn’t need to look to know that even he is scrutinizing everything. Behind them, the vehicle that brought them drives off in a hurry. Wind kicks up dust as she starts forward, the pathway is long. She’s not being deterred from going. A sad smile whisks on to her face as she moves. There’s nothing but death everywhere. Nothing will grow, animals are non-existent, and the bits of visible soil are dead. She moves with precision, watching the ground. He stays with her the entire way, nerves unsettling and falling in places they don’t need to be. The closer they get the easier it is to see the damage that was done.

“You were seven when this all happened.”

“We were both seven, Curtis. Although, it feels like yesterday.”

“It does.”

Death lies everywhere, bodies on top of bodies. The smell of rot and decay. The gate to the old manor is rusted and falling off its hinge. All the bricks in the wall are decorated in vines, moss, and ivy. A tree rests fallen on top of it. There’s an air of desperate longing. A want to be destroyed. Everything about the place screams burn everything. Once white, the manor is a paling yellow, windows are shattered, the roof is caving in, and everything seems to be drowning in death. Both of them cautiously move along the stone path around various bodies. They’re unrecognizable now from what they once were. Curtis’ dark brown hair shifts lightly as he looks around.

“It’ll need cleaning up.”

“And just who’s going to do it? Even we were left here to die. The place is condemned.”

“We’ll just have to do it ourselves.”

“Did you make the call before we left?”

“Yes,I did. It should be a few days before he arrives. Do you want to look through here before then?”

“Of course. I want to see the extent of the damage. If I’m going to find answers this place will have to be thoroughly searched. Cleaning the place up will have to be the first thing we do. These people deserve to be properly put to rest.”

“Of course.”

Curtis looks at the young woman beside him. Her dark brown hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail. Beautifully curled to precision. Each step she takes more somber than the last. She’s calculated and observant. Nothing like the girl he met when he was little.

“Curtis, it’s important that you get along with Mr. Hyle’s daughter.”

“Yes, father.”

“Please, no fighting. I know your young. But she’s still smaller than you.”

The boy nods following swiftly behind his father into the brightly lit manor. Everything smells clean and bleached. Decorated almost too neatly. He stays close, not wanting to touch or break anything. His little eyes can’t find a single spec of dirt on the silver mosaic tile.

“Von Teile! You’re here! Ah, this must be your son, Curtis. I’m Dr. Hyle.”

He’s a bit shy and manages to stay slightly hidden behind his father. That doesn’t stop his father from shoving him gently forward.

“Say hello, Curtis. It’s alright.”

“Hello, Mr. Hyle it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“He’s a sharp boy. Camellia should be around here somewhere. If she hasn’t been hiding all day in the attic.”

Almost instantly a small girl darts towards them, her small feet void of any shoes. A head of brown curls and a bright smile. She circles them briefly before trying to tug him along with her.

“Are you my new friend? Let’s go play in the garden!”

“Camellia…sweetie, that’s not a proper way to greet someone.”

The girl pouts but stops yanking the young boy. She looks up at him a smile forming on her chubby lips.

“Hi, my name is Camellia Alessene Hyle. I am the daughter of Doctor Hyle. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I am Curtis Taure Von Teile. It’s nice to meet you as well.”

“Tower?”

The adults laugh before sending the children off. Curtis follows her curiously and moves with a gentleness. He makes sure to watch her closely. Her father is important to his and so her safety is just as important.

She turns quietly and glances at him. Bright eyes seem to be reading into him. Her burgundy jacket hugging her close. It steadily leads into the matching pants. Her feet are neatly shoved into her boots. Dead brush covers what used to be a large garden. It’s center an enormous fountain shaped like a falling star. No water flows through it. However, there are signs of dried blood, mold, and dried up algae along it. With a sinking heart Camellia maneuvers to the stairs of before the main entryway. More dried blood in the shape of boots. Skeletons labor to hold each other up without turning to ash.

“This place is death.”

“It wasn’t like this before. You know that.”

“We never imagined it ever would be. My father did everything to make it a safe space. Now…”

“Doctor Hyle did a lot for this place. It’s not his fault things turned out the way they did. That doesn’t mean we won’t find a way to get justice for the lives that were taken. That’s what you want isn’t it?”

“I want more than that. I want answers. We were children. Everyone here had someone they cared about. And those people came here and destroyed everything without a shred of remorse. I’m going to pay them back.”

He sighs, listening to the vengeance and anger that shouts in her veins, gives her eyes a swirl of a landslide. Chaos wasn’t her nature, but the woman in front of him, she danced with it on the spikes through orange flames. Fear keeps its distance when she is around. Hatred fuels her, lining her words with venom. He focuses back to the manor, it’s insides gutted by explosions and stuffed with ivory sticks. It’s hauntingly beautiful and devastating. Destruction so carnal that not even nature wants to cover it entirely.

Looking on they can see for the first time since all those years ago, what the damage truly looks like. How forlorn the home has become. Careful of large openings and rubble they move to where the grand staircase once stood. All marble it had been, covered with a velvet purple rug down the center. Meant to keep energetic seven-year-old Camellia Hyle from tumbling down to her death. Velvet had been a poor choice. She’d stumbled down the steps on six different occasions, two of which got her a scolding from a boy whose hair transitioned from deep mahogany brown to white near the ends. The scolding being for not having on the proper shoes for a young lady.

“It’s strange to be here now, Curtis. It doesn’t feel the same.”

“Considering the way it was left and the events last taken place here I’m not surprised. Please, don’t take your shoes off in here.”

“I’m not that dimwitted. Besides, shoes are uncomfortable. Not that I would take them off here anyway. I’m bound to step in something I don’t want to. None of the chemicals were ever cleaned up according to reports. It was just left like this.”

Her foot caresses a fallen skeleton, barely disturbing its resting place as she moves from one end of the foyer to another. A corridor to her left is blocked off by debris. It’ll take machinery to clear that hallway. Signaling a small defeat she moves back towards the other end. While this hall has less debris she knows it’ll be a struggle to get down it. Her concern is more with getting into the laboratory.

“Sounds like they’re here.”

“Of course he ignored my demands to not bring anyone. Stupid man.”

Nothing bothers her more than a person who doesn’t listen. Agitation swims fiercely onto the ground as they step back through the main entrance. Standing at the base of the steps with a large caravan of people a caravan. They aren’t inconspicuous either. Their gear vibrantly colored to match an angry sunset. The only figure not in the same color as the people with him is the same man she’s been looking for. Her eyes narrow on him, slicing him to small pieces. Yet all the man does is smile up at her wistfully.

“Cammie! Von Teile! It’s so wonderful to see you!”

The young woman winces and stomps a foot. She wants more than nothing to wring his neck. Her feet plant in front of him and he pulls for a hug. Sidestepping him is an understatement. So brusque is the move that the man tumbles to the ground face first.

“Doctor Jameson, do not call me Cammie ever again. Second, I made it clear that I wanted no one but you.”

“Camellia Hyle, don’t be that way. We’re here to help. Be nice. Von Teile, tell Cammie to be nice.”

“Doctor Voyle, my lady has asked that you not call her Cammie.”

Jameson Voyle stands upright, chuckling and dusting himself off. For someone who’s over the age of sixty, he looks and acts a lot younger than he is. Not a single gray hair sparks from his head. Every muscle in his body dances with youth and vibrancy for that of a twenty-year-old. He’s showy and filled with far too much energy for the type of digging around that they’ll be doing.

“Fine, fine. These fine people were provided by Ember Aurora Corporation. The company’s head wants to oversee the whole thing.”