**Kail**
The flight to New Orleans was quiet. Gray and Crawley slept most of it, which was pleasant as it gave me time to think. It had been 100 years since I last saw Queen Abigail and saved her from the theater fire. We left with such hatred in our mouth that I vowed to never return to her aid. Which was a shame since she was my friend.
As we got into the rental the memories faded back. One by one crawling at my heart. The first day we met on the river in German, her teaching me how to dance for my first ball, running into her arms after my father beat me. Abigail was always there. Through looking back her age and structured barely charged.
We arrived at a white mansion on Lake Pontchartrain, it was beautiful. Two white pillars greeted you along a short flight of marble stairs whi
