The moon was setting in the west, fading away among the clouds.
The air, thick and humid, smelled of wet earth and trampled grass, a mixture that clung to the skin.
The night was quieter than ever; only the deep croaking of toads echoed from the puddles. Among them, moon crickets wove their song with silver threads, an endless chirping that tangled in the undergrowth.
From time to time, the flapping of a bat's wings pierced the darkness, or the crackling of a dry branch under some invisible creature reminded her that the forest was never completely asleep.
In one of the rooms of the Medici mansion, Liyana looked at one of her men with a serious expression, sitting on the bed, her pajamas covering her beautiful body.
There was a strong metallic smell in the air mixed with the scent of fluids. All the male servants who had been having sex in the room were dead; blood from their bodies stained the floor.
