The now widowed Baroness de Rosius heard her granddaughter’s screams from the chateau parlor. Louise threw down the book she was reading, mumbled some mere curse words under her breath, and scattered outside to Chloe.
The woman’s face crunched when she saw her husband’s corpse. Tears and anger flooded her, her one true love was taken by his own namesake.
The widow rushed from the gardens into the house, and dressed into a bright, pastel, splendid gown. In grief, Louise took a pair of clamps and took hold of a burning log from the parlor fireplace, dragging it onto the carpets and lush furnishings. The house began to burn to the ground.
Before Louise could escape, one of the once grand, immense pillars of the chateau crashed down before her, sealing her fate within the history of humanity.
There were only some fragments of walls left of what was once a grand edifice. Charred floorboards and the structure of the foundation remained. In the ashes would be a golden sheen for someone to collect.