My first breath of air was accompanied by an apology. 

"I'm sorry," Anzel said, still holding my hand fast in his own as I choked and gasped. "I should have warned you that would happen. I assumed you would have used one in the past, and I did not think...." 

The energy that had scoured my veins faded, leaving behind an uncomfortable emptiness that was slowly lessened by every beat of my heart. The stunned haze veiling my thoughts dissolved, taking the headache with it. Warmth seeped through the cold that had settled in my bones, inveigling strength in my weakened limbs.

I felt color flush my cheeks and I extracted my hand from the Vytian's. "I'm okay," I said, blinking furiously to dispel the stars in my eyes. I felt better than okay. I felt better than I had in weeks. "It...ah, worked. It worked." 

I hated to admit it—especially with the Vytian's lips forming such a smug grin—but the infusion had helped. My mana had been depleted. How, though? And why? 

"I am well-versed in the properties of ether and its effects upon then body," Anzel said as he chose another bottle from the fizzled construct. He plucked a cork from a small pile of stoppers on the table and sealed the infusion with a muttered word. "Ahh...as I thought. Deny it all you wish, love, but the ether does not lie; you are more than human."

He presented the bottle, holding it in such a way that the slight silver effulgence glimmering just above the clouded glass was unmistakable. Blushing, I took the infusion from him, flinching when the contained energy zinged through my fingertips.

"Barely," I quipped, cupping my hand to hide the black scorch mark at the bottle's bottom. I didn't know what that was from, but I doubted it was good.

Anzel hummed with quiet satisfaction. "You'll want to drink that later this evening, once you feel weaker. After that, your mana should be settled again." The Vytian pointedly ignored the third infusion still waiting in the construct. 

"Anzel..." I said, speaking slowly. I was grateful for his assistance, but still left with so many questions. I wasn't sure how to articulate what I wanted to ask. I elected to be direct. "Has the manor ever...ever shown you anything?"

He didn't respond immediately, nor did he ask for details. The Vytian settled with his hip leaning into the table, hand cupping his chin in thought. "Shown me something? Something ether draining, perhaps?" 

"Perhaps."

Anzel smirked. "Personally, no. Crow's End has never shown me anything noteworthy—but I wouldn't doubt its capability to do so. The nature of domiciles such as this is to bend to the residents' whims, particularly the home owner's. As a living thing, the manor has its own ether. In the past, it would have used this ether to do minor things for those living here—things such as opening windows, unlocking doors, adjusting lighting, and etcetera.

"Crow's End, however, has been twisted by Sloth's perverse soul. You've noticed it, of course. The oddities. The rooms appearing and disappearing without reason. The warped supports, sagging walls, the fleshy wallpaper?" 

Shivering, I nodded my head. 

"The manor mirrors the mind of its master. It reflects the soul. This place has succumbed to the subliminal insanity of Sloth's thoughts and mannerisms. Like Sloth, it can no longer produce ether of its own. It must feed upon others, or steal, when possible." The Vytian lowered his arm. "You must have asked something of the house, and it reacted to give you what you wanted. In doing so, it needed to take ether from you."

Anzel considered me for a protracted moment. Uncomfortable, I eased myself off of the rickety stool and clasped the second bottle to my chest.

"You must have asked for something quite substantial." He sighed, flipping his soft hair behind his shoulder. "Ah, I must confess I am curious to know what it was. But I will not ask. It is unseemly for a gentlemen to ask a lady to divulge all her secrets." 

I gaped—mostly because I couldn't recall having ever been called a lady before—but Anzel didn't notice. He had turned to the opening door to address Elias, who was followed by three floating plates and a tottering pitcher of water.

"She said she couldn't spare the cups, I'm afraid," Elias tossed behind himself as he paced the edge of the room and opened another door. The plates and pitcher disappeared inside. "The wolves have been at her etchings, breaking the blasted enchantments."

Anzel made a sound of discontent that was echoed by Elias. They really disliked those werewolves.

"No matter. We have the glasses." The Vytian began to walk away but paused, glancing toward me than his fellow. "Would you get Sara settled, Elias?"

"Yes, my lord."

Anzel left via a third door hidden in the towering mess and Elias approached, a smile fixed on his tired face. 

"Feeling better, miss? Are you up for some breakfast?" 

"I am feeling better. And, uh, sure. I could eat." My stomach growled to underline my hunger. I cleared my throat as Elias coughed into his hand to hide his amusement.

"We've a small dining area through here. I promise it's not as...cluttered as Lord Anzel's lab."

The Vytians' dining area was more a breakfast nook than an actual room, but it was pleasantly clean and filled with the aroma of cooked breakfast foods. There was a white double-hung window set above the square table with a red valance hung across its top. Outside, the marsh was just as misty and ominous as ever. The fog lapped at the windowsill as if waiting to be invited inside.

Elias pulled out a straight-backed wooden chair for me and I sat, thanking the older Vytian. He muttered his platitudes and departed, saying he was going to help Anzel. I didn't know why the man needed help finding cups, but I said nothing and only leaned upon my arm as I waited for the two to reappear. 

I stared out the window at the threatening morass beyond as one of my hands held the second infusion in my lap. I pondered what the younger Vytian had told me about the manor. Crow's End had shown that vision—but to what purpose? I hadn't asked for anything from the house. Right? 

Unsure, I tightened my grip on the ether infusion. 

Anzel and Elias returned soon enough, the former carrying three mismatches glasses. He set them on the tea-stained table by our filled plates. He took a seat between Elias and myself, remarking on the delectable spread. I noticed that he had finally washed his hands.

We ate. The Vytians kept a steady stream of conversation flowing between sensible bites of eggs and potatoes. They spoke of small, inconsequential things such as the weather, the food, or their plans for the day. Elias asked about America and Verweald—which he had visited a number of years ago.

Soon, the chatter slowed as our plates became barren. Anzel's mood grew visibly introspective while Elias's eyes would occasionally flicker between the two of us in silent contemplation. He had a question he wished to pose to either Anzel or myself, but he didn't say it. I wondered why.

The electric lamp above us hummed. My gaze traced the thin cracks in the sconce's antique frame.

Sharing a meal with Elias and Anzel was surprisingly nice, if unconventional. The plates kept trying to meander off before we were finished. Anzel cursed at the enchanted tableware and began a brief rant on wasteful witch magic and Sloth's ignorance. I wasn't sure how that issue worked itself into the conversation, but the Vytian made a seamless segue into it.

As I sat with an elbow on my dish and my hand secured on my silverware, I started to again question Anzel's presence at Crow's End. He spoke of the manor and its owner with clear disdain. Why remain?

"Anzel, can I ask you something?"

My voice disturbed the warm silence hovering above us that had descended once Anzel's rant ended. His steely eyes landed upon my own and he answered with a single nod.

"Why are you here? At Crow's End? Why stay here?"

Again the silence returned, awkward and stilted when it had been so familial only moments before. Anzel stared, unflinching. Elias stood, and though the dishes were capable of clearing themselves, he proceeded to stack the plates and excuse himself from the room.

I watched the older Vytian leave. He closed the door behind himself, allowing the latch to catch with a sharp clack of metal on metal.

"I didn't mean to be rude," I said to Anzel, gesturing toward the exit. "Did I offend him?"

Anzel exhaled, running a careless hand through his hair. More strands had come loose from his tie and were swaying across his handsome face. He looked tired suddenly. "No. I believe that was his way of giving us a moment to talk, Sara." His glass swiveled between his fingers. "You've broached a rather delicate subject, for both Elias and I."

I shifted in my chair, wincing at the sudden ache in my side. "I wouldn't have asked if I knew it would upset him. Or you."

Anzel shrugged, gifting me with a slight but encouraging smile. "No, don't worry. It's not a pleasant topic, but it is widely known in Crow's End. I'd rather you heard the story from me than from...someone else."

He didn't need to specify exactly who else. I knew Anzel meant Darius.

"I am from Vyus. It's a very small realm. Proud, but small. I am not so blinded by patriotism that I cannot admit that. When I was a child, I lived in Gran Vyus, the capital. It was—is—a beautiful city. I remember the towers of soaring white stone, the buttresses gilded in bronze, and the walls veined with gold. The magic there was so thick it sang through your nerves and lived in your heart. Our streets were laid out in the design of complex constructs, and on special occasions the arcanists would come together to connect the various lines and all of Gran Vyus would glow like a sun.

"I spent many years outside of the city as well, in the temperate woods and wilds of the countryside. Before dawn, I would sit in the belfry of my family's Idvarian estate just to listen to the morning Songs rise from the temple below. The sun's light would crest over the forested horizon, and I would clap my hands over my ears as the bells began to toll...."

Anzel paused, his eyelids flickering, the line of his black lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. "But that was a long time ago." His voice had fallen until it was barely a whisper.

I wasn't skilled at comforting people, but I laid my fingertips on the Vytian's arm. "It sounds lovely."

"It was." Anzel said nothing about my hand on his person, only continued his story. I returned my hand to the table. "My father was Helzin, King of the Vytians. I was his youngest child, eighth in line to the Vytian throne."

My brow rose. So, Anzel wasn't just a lord. He was a prince.

"As the youngest son, nothing much was expected of me. I was a rascal when I was a child, and a rake when I was a young man. I must have been a terror to what few young women populated the villages outside our Idvarian estate!" He laughed, the sound tremulous but warm with the memory Anzel held in his head. "My family did not mind, though. They simply assumed I would grow out of my antics when I was older.

"As I was coming to age, my father was preparing our people for a war with a particularly vicious cove of Sundered dragons known only as the dragons of the Southern Rock. These dragons lived within the Vale adjacent to Vyus.

"They had long asserted that our realm was rightfully theirs, that my ancestors had stolen the realm from the Sundered beasts. Naturally, this is a falsehood told by a cove of avaricious, forked-tongued lizards who would do anything to possess what is not theirs. But, being greedy did not make them stupid. When the war started, the dragons didn't attack the Vytian people; they attacked Vyus itself.

"The Sundered dragons were tearing through the skein of the Dream which separated Vyus from the Vale. With every fresh tear their primordial magics ripped through that barrier, the closer Vyus came to utter and complete collapse. We lost vast tracts of land to the void. If Vyus collapsed, the Vytian people would be annihilated. So, Helzin was forced into war."

Anzel drank from his cup. I did the same, mulling over what I had heard so far. I set the ether infusion aside so I could hold my glass with both hands. The bottle spilled cool, silver light over the table and attracted Anzel's eye. He stared at it as he continued.

"The war lasted for several years. Helzin pushed our people to the brink, sacrificing army after army to protect the barrier from the beasts. The cost was high, but Vyus was winning. My father declared his intention to annihilate the Sundered dragons, to execute every last one of them from their crimes—and the other creatures of the Sundered Vale reacted. They promised retribution if the Vytian king committed genocide upon Valian soil.

"Helzin would not be dissuaded. He wanted the dragons to answer for the lives they had taken, for the land we had lost. Some claim he went mad. I disagree. He was a man driven by the love of his country and of his people. A stubborn man. Unable to discourage him, his council rebelled.

"I told you I was an irascible young man. My father had the family sequestered in the Idvarian estate outside Gran Vyus for our safety, but I wasn't concerned with safety. I was boisterous and filled with life. I was rebellious and untouchable. I had plans to become a soldier and used to boast to my family of how I would one day charge into battle and ride a tamed dragon home.

"I remember my last night in Vyus quite clearly. I remember the sheen of the candles playing over the gilded mirror in my room and the reflection of an adolescent youth upon the colorless glass. I remember the screech of the window's hinges and the rough texture of the sill upon my bare palms. My eldest brother Ezric called out to me, yelled for me to stay. I laughed and ran into the woods.

"I spent the night in town, drinking imitation Dream wine and flirting with any woman who dared enter such a sordid tavern. King's breath, I was a lout. It's a small wonder I wasn't gutted by a jealous husband or pissed off brother! I probably would have deserved such a fate.

"As I drank my spirits and enjoyed myself, the council's army marched through the town. I remember seeing the line of torches drifting through the night outside the pub's door and thinking it was only a figment of my imagination. The army marched to my family's estate. I'm told they killed all five of my brothers swiftly, two of them in their beds. My mother and two sisters were raped and thrown into the river, where they drowned. They weren't found until long after I was gone.

"Helzin was killed as well, of course. They cut off his head and hung on the palace gates in Gran Vyus. It hung there for several months until one of my father's loyalists could steal it and return it to the earth for burial.

"The council had its way. The war ended. Overnight, the Kingdom of Vyus fell and the Republic of Vyus took its place."

Anzel's voice was dry, emotionless. He told the tale without inflection, without hesitation, like it was a bandage he had ripped off so many times it no longer had any adhesion. I couldn't say anything. I could only watch the inviting glow of the infusion reflect on the brutal, gray surface of the Vytian's eyes.

Tara's death had been product of a comparable betrayal, and so I knew there was not a single word I could say nor a single action I could enact that would bring comfort to Anzel. Perhaps the lost Vytian princeling and I had more in common than I had initially expected.

"What happened? When you returned?"

Anzel's head tipped as the skin about his eyes tightened, aging the creature. "By morning, ranking officers had restored some measure of civility to the mob. I was spared death, though not humiliation. In Vyus, the law states a son can be held accountable for the actions of his father. The council decided to charge me for my father's perceived war crimes. I was sentenced to a life time of exile from Vyus and the Vale."

My brows contracted. "Exile?"

"Yes, exile." The Vytian slumped in his chair, lifting his narrow arms with his hands splayed open. "Don't you see, love? You asked why I don't leave the manor. To be concise; I can't leave. The council to the Republic of Vyus made Sloth my warden, and Crow's End my prison. It's a prison, Sara.

"Crow's End is a literal prison."

For half a minute I stared at the Vytian, then my hands. There was blood under the nails, and my fingers had begun to tremble.

Did he just say I'm in...prison?!