The Flarcks: The Roots of Poison

The rain pounded incessantly on the roof of the Flarcks’ large estate. The hills were shrouded in a thick mist, and the wind made the trees bend as if they were whispering forgotten secrets. Inside the house, the flickering light of the candles illuminated the faces of the two rival families: the descendants of the matriarch Anja Flarck, divided into two factions who had now forgotten the meaning of “family”.

Anja, on her deathbed, had her eyes half closed. His faint voice was still capable of imposing silence in the room. With one last look, he stared at the members of his lineage one by one, as if he wanted to engrave on their hearts the words he would say.

“Remember the roots that bind you, don’t forget… blood is stronger than any hatred.” One last breath, one last heartbeat, and then silence. His death, far from bringing peace, became the spark that would ignite the fire of discord.

As the rain increased, outside the window a silhouette stood out among the shadows of the garden. Nobody realized that that day, more than any other, the real enemy was already lurking, ready to exploit every weakness of the Flarcks.