395 The Ghost of The Past

Tsalinade wasn't her real name. But it was a name that she remembered the most; the name of a gorgeous queen in a desert kingdom of ancient era. The name was mentioned in a forgotten song that her mother used to sing to her.

A mother who was found dead in the bed where she served her client. 

A mother who left the world with a huge debt that got her even more beautiful daughter sold off to a rich, cruel aristocrat. A rich, cruel aristocrat who killed her. 

The young, barely teenage daughter had a feeling she would die soon, so she used the gift she had been keeping as a secret all this time. She couldn't do much, but she moved the wheel of the carriage bringing him to the city. Just slightly. Just enough to make the carriage swerve in the middle of a muddy road, plunging into a ravine. 

She had thought that if she was going to die anyway, she would rather die before getting defiled.