Fredro DeTwix stood out amongst the nobility in the hall. It wasn’t his clothing - that dishonor belonged to the usual suspects from House Hershey, nor was it his demeanor - few would enjoy being mentioned in the same breath as the Ochers. No, it was the terrifying exoticism of his existence.

Maybe it was because of his hair - evenly divided between the distinct obsidian of the DeTwix family and the polished pearl that stained it, or perhaps his eyes - predatory, primal, ready to pounce at any time - the mark of his curse. He didn’t know, and nobody deigned to answer his questions.

And frankly, he didn’t care. The less time he spent in the spotlight, the better. Everyone knew how this charade went, and he’d play along at first. The challenge was escaping before Act Two - a feat that may leave even the Great Escapist herself awestruck. But for this dance of fate to commence, the music must start playing.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Entering the hall now, also of house DeTwix: Reese Chocco DeTwix, first of his name, heir to house DeTwix; Roderick Almerd Detwix, second of his name; Frederika Roslyn DeTwix, seventh of her name; and Fredro DeTwix! May the Aboves smile on this house.”

Gods, Fredro hated these introductions. He dreaded all of this. The superficial smiles hiding the crocodiles and demons plaguing his soul; this brief respite from Hell invited a deeper damnation tomorrow. But this time would be different. This time, he would disappear into the night. Tonight, Fredro DeTwix would die. Tonight, a butterfly of his skin would take to the skies!

Tonight, or never.