With the chaos that happened, Nathalia's grave was not finished. It was half filled. Wasted flowers scented the grounds. Shovels lie useless. Chairs scrambled in the area. A forlorn sight for the most feared woman in the society.

As the rest of the people squandered for their lives, one man remains. The oldest friend. Three other men came. They picked the shovels as the old man orders. Slowly, they packed the unfilled grave. 

The old man held his hands to his back. Stared at the freshly dug soils. All these years, he lived behind the shadows of Nathalia. Hiding from the morbid influence of his kind. It's time to step out of the dark. To tell a story, Lucifer: Untold.

Lucifer: Untold

If danger came, most people would go hiding, or better, prepare themselves, brace for whatever to come. Things have gone out of proportion and the angst of obscurity suspended in the air, not to Widowswill. The grandeur of the chateau has never been fully tested. It has the capacity for luxury and glamour, so as its capabilities to defend itself. 


In basic mathematics and calculations, if the menagerie attacks Widowswill, it will fall within an hour, depending on its resisting force. Shadows lurking in the dark alleys outside the chateau watched it. The place was as serene as the night. Even the guards at the gate were interestingly calm. The Vipers were not positioned to defend Widowswill, or Iñigo himself. 


Forty-Nine - Checkmate, Iñigo. Or is it?