qw
The courtyard he had seen on many a morning had turned into a hell unlike anything he’d ever seen. The small but vivid flower bed had been trampled awry, and the trees standing around the mansion had been felled, snapped in half. The green grass had been dyed black with blood, with the prostrate corpse joined by the remains of several black-robed figures. Each showed signs of being subjected to incredible violence, with few remaining relatively whole. The gruesome damage to the remains exceeded what he had seen in Earlham Village, no doubt evidence of the great rage behind the murder weapon that had turned these unfortunate victims into mincemeat. The deadly tool that had wreaked such havoc upon them, a bloodstained iron ball, lay fallen among the dark figures in the center of the garden. The...