Don’t make it worse by lying. Oh please sir. I won’t say anything. It’s none of my business. Please don’t fire me. My mother will kill me. Ple...ase, I swear I’ll never do it again. Please sir. With that a tear rolled sown her cheek and she started to sob in earnest. Fernanda, be quite. Where’s your mother? In the apartment waiting for me to bring her some garlic. That’s why I cam back. I was supposed to knock and say excuse me but I saw you and… Her voice trailed off and she waited. Tell me what. She imagined that she was really a Princess being mummified, and placed into a tomb.She then dreamed of a handsome, rugged captor spiriting her away to some romantic foreign country as a sex slave....Oh, if only, she dreamed. Reality broke the trance. Paul was next to her, and speaking something that she could barely make out. Only parts of words managed to filter through the rock hard encasement. She made out “moved,” “altar” and “sacrificed.”That set her into a panic!She felt the table. A lot of the older people and the ones who were not in the best of health or condition tended to drop their messages off at the monastery with a donation to relay it to the Gods.That was because the trail became much more difficult after passing the home of the brown-robed mysterious monks who remained silent most of the time unless they were instructed to speak and assist the faithful and the curious. At this time of year, the early morning hours were filled with a low-hanging fog that seemed. Somewhere in the great cosmos above, fate was laughing hysterically at its sick joke, and I just stood there like a fucking punchline. “Yavara,” I hissed, “why the fuck didn’t you kill her when you had the chance?!” “I was getting around to it, then I got interrupted. Besides, I could ask you the same.” “Because she wasn’t the fucking Dark Queen!” “But I was.”“It doesn’t matter now, OK? We need to think of a way out of this!” Yavara let out an existential sigh, and smiled. “Elena,” she said.