Dead Soul Exorcist

93 | Whisper of Revenge

The clock on the wall struck two in the morning. Nearly twelve hours had passed since his biological mother's funeral. While everyone else surely slept, Dravon couldn't find rest. Lying on his side in bed, he glanced across the room to where Will lay peacefully in another bed. Will's slumber wasn't by choice; he had been struck with the flu and was reluctantly swallowing pills forced upon him by Anne.

Dravon twirled the black ball in his hand. He knew he shouldn't have taken it from the billiard table, but he felt a need for it to remind himself of who he was and what his purpose was. He had come to this city to disrupt everything, not to attend his mother's funeral. After all, why should Dravon bother for a woman who didn't acknowledge him at all? A woman who allowed her daughter's envy to cast Dravon away to Umbravale. A woman who knew no sense of responsibility, neither in family nor in leading a kingdom.

"It's your fault, Mum," Dravon murmured. Never had he imagined that finally,