These days, the Lowe brothers knew better than to tempt the town’s wrath, but that didn’t stop them from sneaking over the fence in the throes of night, relishing the taste of some reckless thrill. They’ll tear your throat and drink your soul. Grins like goblins, the children murmured, because the children in Ilvernath loved fairy tales-especially real ones. On mischief nights, children from Ilvernath sometimes crept up to its towering wrought iron fence, daring their friends to touch the famous padlock chained around the gate-the one engraved with a scythe. The family lived on an isolated estate of centuries-worn stone, swathed in moss and shadowed in weeping trees. The Lowe family had always been the undisputed villains of their town’s ancient, bloodstained story, and no one understood that better than the Lowe brothers. The Lowes shaped cruelty into a crown, and oh, they wear it well.Ī Tradition of Tragedy: The True Story of the Town that Sends its Children to Die
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