With a shaken hand, the lady Khatagen reaches for one of the golden pins that goes as a set to the head dress she has on and carefully, very carefully, slips it into her thick, rich ebony colored mane. After having it secured in the buns shaped elegantly from her hair, she looks over it a second time in the mirror to make sure that it didn't wasn't crooked or seem out of place. Finding it to her satisfactory, she manages to squeeze a smile at her own pale reflection in the mirror which, to no one’s surprise, smiled back. But the expression came and went in a flash… for this is neither the time nor place to be acting, or feeling the slightest bit of joy at her simple accomplishment.
By now, the chilling screams and wails from the people outside of her room that overlooks the back garden of the estate has mostly died down, save for a few cracking cries and mixed in amongst them a universal question from their dying breathes: “why?” T