"You...you mean figuratively, right?" I asked as my voice cracked under the strain of shock. Anzel couldn't possibly mean the manor was a literal prison. Prisons had barred windows and guards and numbered jumpsuits. Crow's End had none of that.

My reassurances did not calm the tremors in my hands, however.

"I mean literal, love," the Vytian replied, leaning his chair onto its anterior legs. He balanced it with minimal effort, unbothered by his precarious perch. "Who stays in the house of a Sin unless prevailed upon by extraneous circumstances?" 

I didn't have a response, because I wouldn't have chosen to stay in Crow's End if I had another choice. The manor terrified me. As curious as I was about magic and about the preternatural, I also had a healthy dose of fear where the manor and its residents were involved.

Now I was learning they weren't residents at all—but inmates. Inmates! 

Darius had left me alone in a prison?!

I felt as if I was going to be ill. Not because of weakness or because of the food I had consumed. I was going to be sick with rage.

"Sara...?" Anzel questioned, mistaking my sudden pallor for fear.

I cleared my throat and tried to find my voice as I stood, taking the ether infusion in hand. "Thank you for this, and for breakfast. I need to go. Now."

I went to storm through the door, but Anzel caught my arm by the elbow.

"Hold on," he said as he reeled me in. I didn't appreciate being restrained, even by something as slight as a hand, but I didn't shake him off. I titled my head toward the Vytian and waited. "I've shared something quite personal with you and helped you with your ether. The least you could do in recompense is answer a question for me."

"Fine," I retorted, distracted. I was going to kill the Sin of Pride!

Anzel smiled. The expression radiated comfort, but there was something sharp and cold beneath it, like a knife stashed under a soft pillow. "Are you and Pride lovers?"

I choked as my murderous thoughts were cut off. I gawked at the Vytian. "W-what?!" My voice had risen several octaves.

One of Anzel's groomed brows quirked. "It's a simple question. The answer is either yes, or no."

Flustered, I yanked my arm out of his grasp and clasped the infusion tight before it could slip from my sweaty hand. "Why on earth would you ask—?!" 

Anzel face had become curiously blank, his eyes gleaming with hints of violence. "Yes or no."

"N-no?!"

The Vytian's stiff posture relaxed. "Good," was his only reply. "Off with you now."

Dismissed and thoroughly confused, I exited the breakfast nook and returned to the front room Elias had referred to as Anzel's lab. The older Vytian was trying to discreetly tidy Anzel's mess, but when he saw me standing wordlessly by myself, he desisted with his efforts and plastered a pleasant smile on his face.

"Leaving? So soon?"

My chin lifted. "Yes. I...I have somewhere to be. Thank you for your hospitality, Elias." 

He dipped into a refined bow. The polished buttons on his coats gleamed in the lowlights. "Naturally, miss. If you require us again, do not hesitate to ask."

I walked to the door. I had my hand upon the handle and was about to let myself out, when I snatched it back and rounded on Elias. Impulse shook me, and I spoke before I could consider my words. "Do you serve him because he used to be a prince?"

Elias took exception to my tone but was too polite to reprimand me. Instead, his bright eyes narrowed and he straightened his spine so he could gift me with an imperious look. "No. I serve him because he is king, Sara."

His answer only created more questions, but left a clear implication. Anzel was the final living son of the last Vytian king. The Vytian council had overtaken Vyus and remade the kingdom into a republic, but they had not killed Helzin's final son.

Did Anzel believe himself the rightful king of Vyus? 

Shaking my head, I left.

It wasn't until I was on the stairs wandering upward toward Darius's rooms that I remembered I was supposed to be murderously angry and not uncommonly flustered. I swore at myself, the Vytians, and the Sin of Pride as I dropped off the ether infusion and stomped my way downstairs again.

I don't know why Anzel's question bothered me so much. It wasn't relevant. It didn't even matter. Christ, I was dying and trying to piece together any possibly resolution to this contract that would leave Darius with his head still attached to his shoulders. I didn't have time for such stupidity. I slept in the Sin's rooms, so of course people would assume—

"The worst. People would assume the worst." I sighed as my shoulders slouched and I grew more irritable. I wanted to yell at Darius until every breath in my body was expelled with my rage—but I couldn't find him. I knew that. I could wander the manor for hours and lose myself to its trickery and illusions.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized the truth to Anzel's words. If Crow's End didn't want you to leave, you couldn't leave. You would be trapped by these groaning, moving walls. This place truly was a prison.

But why? Why would the Sin of Sloth live in such an unconventional prison for the supernatural? The logic of the Sin's possible reasoning was faulty. There was something I had not yet thought of, something I had not comprehended.

After I left Darius's room, I turned into the first available hall. I didn't know what lay in this direction, but I figured no one actually knew where anything was in Crow's End. So I chose a path, intending to stick to it until the blasted house decided I had suffered enough and led me to my destination.

I would find Darius whether he wanted to be found or not. I would help him whether he wanted me to or not!

A rut in the carpet runner reared up and smacked my foot as I tried to step over it.

Off-balance, I yelped and threw my arm against the wall to catch myself. The wall held—until the faint click of a latch sounded, and suddenly the wall wasn't there anymore. A wood panel gave way, and I stumbled through the impromptu opening. The dark overcame my vision and, gasping, I scrambled for the entrance—

The panel swung shut, stealing the hall's light as it trapped me inside.

"No!" I objected as I ran at the wall, determined to pop the panel open again. My body was met with solid, cold stone. My fingers scoured the wall, catching upon natural pits and veins meandering through the rock, but they couldn't find a latch or a seam. "By the King below, really?!"

The room's heat and darkness wrapped themselves about my throat and squeezed.

Breathless and frustrated, I forced my hands to leave the wall and filled my lungs with air. Calm. I need to be calm. I am far too rational to allow myself to panic....

I swore weak laughter echoed somewhere in the emptiness.

Rounding my shoulders, I rotated until I could face the manor's newest surprise. The darkness waited, empty and resounding with the insatiable, quiet hunger of the night. My footsteps were cast outward and stolen by the smothering shadows, my breath shuddering as a single bead of sweat crossed the nape of my neck.

As I blindly reached forward, the stars came to life.

Like fireflies in the first hours of night, their lights sparked in the dark. A voice caught in an eternal melody crossed the room, igniting worlds in its passage. A thousand tiny stars overcame the night as they completed lazy revolutions in air surrounding my body. The farther the stars went out the cooler they became, deepening to shades of crimson and auburn until they disappeared completely.

This was not what I had been expecting. Awestruck, I caught one of the stars in my cupped hand. The small spark did not contain substance of its own, but the energy comprising its nebulous bonds was so tightly compressed it gave the white star light and presence. As my left hand closed around it, the star dispersed. I jumped as the energy zinged down my arm and sunk into my flesh.

A ripple went through the gathered nebulae, changing their patterns. The miniature worlds coalesced and drifted, illuminating a new form in the vacuum of space existing between their gathered clusters.

"Peroth," I uttered, for it was the Sin of Sloth standing not five feet in front of me, partially hidden in the dancing shadows. Part of his face was bathed in starlight while the breadth of his wide shoulders blocked out the light behind him. His gaze narrowed and kindled the color within his eyes.

"How did you manage to find your way into this room?" he asked, face radiating amiable curiosity while his tone sent chills down my spine. "It's off limits, Sara."

"Tell that to your house," I grumbled as I massaged the inside of my palm. The star had left a small, black smudge and the skin stung as if I had been burned. "This prison threw me in here!"

"Prison?" Peroth's head lowered, though he managed to keep his vivid eyes locked on mine. The Sin's presence closed in, leaving the imprint of broken wood and crushed ivy upon my tongue. The taste was strange and unpleasant. "Crow's End is not a prison. It is a refuge. My home caters to your every whim and brings you to what you want. What you desire. How on earth is that a prison?"

My response was cut short when something moved in shadow behind the Sin. The body of a man rose to an impossible height, blotting out the lights above and around the Sin of Sloth. His head rolled upon massive shoulders, and the spoiled energy emanating from its form was so potent I couldn't help but take a step back. Peroth didn't seem to notice it.

The current of static imparted by the star in my left arm reached a fevered pitch as the obscured creature stretched for Peroth.

"Just who have you been speaking with when Darius thinks you're nice and safe in your room, hmm?"

I reacted and tried to warn the Sin. I don't know why my first instinct was to protect the man when I should have let him be eaten by whatever monster he kept lurking in this terrible place. It would serve him right. "Peroth—!"

For the briefest of instances, an arm came into view. The bruised, deathly flesh was molded to its crooked bones like warped leather. The fingers were overly long, tipped with blackened talons as thick as a hawk's claws. The hand snatched hold of the stars hanging before Peroth and plunged itself back into darkness.

The Sin's eyes continued to blaze as a cruel smirk edged his lips. Oh, Peroth knew exactly what was behind him.

"I told you; this room is off-limits."

My heart raced as the first inklings of dread began to sink in. "I'm sorry," I whispered, unable to find my voice. "But I didn't come in here by choice."

I could hear the low, wet rasp of breathing. It didn't belong to the Sin of Sloth.

"I'm sorry," I repeated. The stars mimicked my trembling.

Peroth stared, judging my integrity. He exhaled, and the darkness melted. The stars fled with it, creating blurred trails in their haste. The sudden exposure to light was blinding, and I had to clap my hands over my streaming eyes.

When the sharp pain stabbing my irises stopped, I peered through my damp lashes at the Sin of Sloth. He was alone. The monster was gone.

Peroth cleared his throat as he adjusted the collar of his white button-down. He wasn't wearing his jacket, and I noticed there were spots of perspiration on his chest and under his arms. In the absence of starlight, his eyes were much duller than was typical and the flesh beneath them was noticeably bruised. The Sin was tired. I wondered why.

The final stars winked out of existence, leaving the two of us in a vacant ballroom. The mahogany floors were polished to an exacting shine, reflecting a warped image of the painted ceiling. Carved cornices held the twisted visages of snarling demons and crude bird wings. There were two exits.

The first was an archway where the cold, drab light of the marsh was pouring through. Mist crept upon the shined floor, but soon dissipated in the oppressive heat. On the opposing end of the hall was a second archway, and beyond its wooden supports was a forest caught in the throes of a blustery summer breeze. Golden sunshine sparkled over the mahogany, inviting in its warmth and cheer.

I stared as the breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient boughs and I felt the sun kiss my face.

But how was that possible?

"Wh...where are we?" I asked, unable to look away from the tempting forest. "That's not...the moors...."

Peroth closed the distance between us. His steps were measured, but resounded with surprising weight. Nervous, I turned from the sunny wood and watched the Sin as he took hold of my wrist and lifted it toward his chest. His thumb played over my pulse as it stroked my bare skin.

"Tell me, Sara," he said, placing pressure upon my clasped limb. My mouth went dry. "Has Darius shown you his Absolian gift?"

"No?" I answered, uncertain in my response. I gave my arm a small tug and found Peroth's strength to be just as resilient as Darius's.

Peroth blinked as a small sound escaped his lips. "Surprising. You see, all the Originals are capable of finite creation magic—a remnant trick, if you will. A taste of the power we once wielded. Balthier can steal disease and give it to others. Darius can take pain. He can steal it from your flesh, and return it at twice the magnitude. We've all learned over the years to never touch him without thought. His brother was capable of healing any injury, no matter how grievous. It's why Balthier spared him and decided to use Sethan as a tool. He's notoriously difficult to kill."

The Sin's thumb paused over my fragile veins. I stared into his tarnished eyes, waiting to see what the creature would do. "Guess what my gift is."

"I don't know."

"Guess."

"I don't know." I wouldn't guess. I wouldn't feed into whatever game Peroth was playing.

The Sin frowned and, slowly, leaned forward, putting his face an inch before my own. He smelt of bergamot and burnt cloves. I held my breath and buried the urge to recoil. "It's fear."

I felt Peroth's energy stir seconds before his ability hit me. It rose like a tidal wave out of a lethargic current. Immutable terror slammed into my mind with such momentum I was momentarily stunned. Then I was screaming. I had never been so afraid in my entire life. I had never experienced such raw, unforgiving dread. All sense of logic evaporated and was replaced by nerve-splitting, mind-ripping fear that burrowed so deeply into my subconscious I lost all sense of purpose, of identity. All I knew was the terror.

Peroth watched me scream with a somber expression hardening his features. 

The fear collided with the shadow lurking in the peripheries of my thoughts and set it off like a rabid animal scenting an easy kill. I stopped screaming because I was out of air and because the shadow had fallen between my mind and Peroth's ability, cutting off the terrorizing sensation so savagely it hurt. My face was wet with tears, and my breaths came in weak, strangled sobs.

It could have been my imagination, but the darkness in my thoughts seemed...bigger, as if it was growing.

Peroth chuckled. He let me go and leaped backward—narrowly avoiding Darius's fist as the Sin of Pride tore through the Realm with a furious snarl.

Unfortunately, Peroth's ability had zapped all feeling from my legs, so I slumped onto the floor and smacked my nose against the hardwood.

"Sara!" Darius's arm worked itself around my middle to yank me upright. His iron grip was pushing against my side wound, but I mercifully felt no pain. I felt nothing aside from the otherworldly heat thrown by Darius's skin and the strength in his arm braced against my back. His hand swept my hair out of my face and jerked my head straight so our eyes could meet. "Sara?"

God, I wanted to be angry with him. I wanted to hate the Sin for bringing us to this place, for not ending my torment when he should have. I wanted to be mad and I undoubtedly would be once I stopped quivering with leftover terror—but couldn't summon any fury when I was so unequivocally grateful for his presence.

"Darius," I said, folding a hand into the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

The Sin of Pride quickly evaluated the situation, taking my measure, then Peroth's. His red eyes shuttered and blackened. He scoffed as his arm abruptly opened, dropping me to the floor again. "Idiot."

My head bounced on the wood and I shouted. "Ow!"

"Do you enjoy yourself, Cuxiel? Did you find this stunt funny?" Darius hissed as he stepped over me and ignored the kick I aimed toward his legs.

Peroth shrugged. "Not particularly. I believe my talents are better spent in other pursuits. But, I also don't find her presence in this room funny, Darius."

Darius froze as he took stock of the empty ballroom and two archways leading to the two very different locations. "How did she even get in here?"

Judging by his confusion, this room was not an easy place to locate, even by Crow's End's standards. Just what was this room? I had seen many strange things in my short time at the manor. This place was no exception, but that strangeness only served to cement its banality. Everything in the manor was odd. The ballroom was not the oddest nor the most improbable I had found so far.

Squinting, I looked to the archway bearing the view of the enchanted forest.

What was that place? What was Peroth hiding in this room?

"I'm not sure. But perhaps you should take a more vested interest in your shadeborn. She's been spending time with some rather...unsavory people. People who call Crow's End a prison."

Darius stiffened. His knuckles cracked as his hands tightened into fists.

"Keep her out of this room." Peroth bowed to us both, smile never slipping from his well-mannered face. "Next time, it won't be a warning. Don't force me to do something we'll both regret. Keep her out."

Peroth vanished in a choked rush of ash and smoke.