He would have died rather quickly to not lose track of his wife in the afterlife.

They would chase the image rising from death, expect it, but then enter an empty room with a shrine of deadened memorabilia that made them lose their minds.

The triumph for Cameliano was that he found his truth of Estefania by disregarding hers, which had always been an established fact. But she deliberately embraced his intentions to cover it up.

They possessed a peaceful relic to set their child free, and the simulacrum they had fed would fade away.

Marcelian Piaffus adored the heirloom's macabre biography, she could tell. Strangely enough, he had a disregard for its severity despite his beliefs, especially in the hands of a child, and even though Estefania had always been aware that darkness could latch itself onto objects, having grown up among unspeakable atrocities, she decided her daughter had too much grit to decline into madness.

Overwhelmed, she surrendered to impending motherhood, terrorized by fears and doubts, reflecting about her own mother whom she saw as an agent of trauma transferal and as the ever-expanding root in a vicious female circle.

Estefania tried to deracinate the hostile voices that pottered around her mind, yet she felt threatened and paranoid, lamenting the state she had put herself in.

He witnessed the destruction of everything he had ever created. These are the crippled pieces, the faces that he was stuck with; a puppet show that he could not get out of, all the strings tangled, the dead attached to the living.