CHAPTER LXXIV

     (BLOOD NIGHT)

     “HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLAY.”

     “THANK YOU, RAIN.”

     One, two, three. Someone started to count. Four, five, six. No one is around. Seven, eight, nine. Their words and the very tone of like a whispering lullaby is hunting, yet ringing a painful heartache from within. Then finally at ten, no one could hear as no one is near, to the peculiar empty palace, yet in the shadows are guarding and observing. He draws a smile as he looks at the open doors of the deep chamber and below where a cry, but a tone of disobedience that is the price with a consequence of torture is there for him to hear. With the very familiarity of the voice that reaches his ears and the inevitable and predicted predicament of things, he whispers. 

     “Well, well, well. They took everything