The moon over Oakhaven was a sliver of bone buried deep in a sky bruised with heavy winter clouds. The manor was quiet. It had settled into the uneasy silence of a house holding its breath while waiting for the other shoe to drop. The "Trial of Purity" had entered its second night, and so far the fragile masquerade Valeria had constructed was holding together by a thread.
High Inquisitor Voss had retired to the Guest Suite after a tense dinner to meditate on the sins of the world. His soldiers patrolled the perimeter walls in shifts. Their heavy boots crunched on the gravel in a rhythmic cycle that echoed through the valley, but the inner courtyard was empty.
Or so it seemed.
