"60, 59, 58...0"
The second body dropped.
"60, 59, 58...0"
The third Body dropped.
Lady Beatrice's eyes, wide and unblinking, were fixed on the scene, her jaw slack as her face turned a sickly white.
The entire hall fell into a graveyard silence, everyone watched helplessly as young women succumbed to death on what should have been the happiest day of their lives.
Joseph paused at the second-to-last bride, lifting her chin. He stared into her eyes and said, "You have sixty seconds until you die."
The bride pressed a trembling hand over her mouth, muffling a cry. She glanced at the Bishop standing beside the podium near her, then shifted her gaze toward Lady Beatrice.
Tears welled in her eyes, not from pain, but from pure, overwhelming terror. "Save me," the bride whispered, her voice shallow and barely audible.
She exhaled slowly through her pursed lips, almost like whistling. With each inhalation, her nostrils widened, and her shoulders rose and fell significantly.
