Time passed. Hours became days, and the days compiled into a week. Prior to his leaving, I hadn't seen much of Darius around Crow's End, but I'd been aware of his presence. It'd been a constant pressure, not unlike a hand at my back nudging me in the right direction. His absence wasn't keenly noticeable, but I sensed it. It yawned in the peripheries like a chasm where the winds echoed and died.

Darius was beyond my help. He was somewhere outside the ward with his deranged brother and Balthier. He'd been gone for a week and I hadn't heard a word from him.

I knew I should have bought him a damn cell phone back in Verweald.

Frowning, I rolled over and buried my head underneath the pillow. Despite it being well past dawn, I had no drive to get out of bed. I hadn't for nearly a week. I didn't eat breakfast with the wolves. I didn't study with Cage. I didn't see the Vytians.

I was tired. Just so very tired.

"Gaspard."

I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to ignore Amoroth's voice. I hadn't heard her come in, but the woman was fully capable of bypassing locked doors.

"Gaspard, get up."

"Go. Away," I grumbled without moving. "Why are you even in here?"

"Peroth is tired of you moping and refusing meals." Exasperated, the woman kicked the side of the mattress and made the entire bedframe shake. "Get up. I am not your butler or Peroth's servant. I won't tell you again."

I unearthed my arm from beneath the blanket and gave the Sin a decidedly unfriendly hand gesture.

"Have it your way." 

I was convinced Amoroth would finally leave me to my wretched state—when the bed suddenly lifted and turned. I yelped when I slid off the inverted mattress and landed in a pile by the nightstand, the pillow falling into my face with an ungainly flop.

Amoroth dropped the bed frame and brushed off her hands. "Christ, clean this room. I'm covered in dust." 

I coughed on the dust she was griping about as I extricated myself from the twisted sheets. I tested the bandages against my side and was relieved to find no blood on my fingertips. "You do realize I'm injured?!" I shouted at the smirking Sin looming at the other side of the bedroom.

"You do realize it could be much worse?" she mocked as she tucked an errant curl back into her chignon. "Honestly, Pride must have weighed the option of living with your bitching against being chased by Balthier and decided the latter was the easier choice."

Her glib remark cut across the raw wound of Darius's departure, but I didn't rise to her bait. "I told you to go away."

Amoroth made a show of stepping to the opposing side of the bedroom's threshold, one of her manicured brows risen in challenge. "Peroth wanted to speak with you."

I huffed and levered myself upright. "So?" 

"So it would be in your best interest to appease the man providing you with asylum."

Irritated as I was, I knew Amoroth was right. If anything, Darius would expect me to be cordial to Sloth and I didn't wish to offend the man. He didn't deserve my disrespect.

"Fine," I replied, glancing down at my rumpled pajamas. "I'll go speak with him. Get out so I can get dressed."

Her message delivered, the Sin of Lust disappeared with a final disapproving tut. She was already gone and I was half undressed when I realized I hadn't asked her where Peroth was. His morning routine was utterly unpredictable. The Sin could be anywhere.

Great. 

I spent the morning and the majority of the afternoon traipsing the manor's empty halls with nothing but my own thoughts for company. Peroth wasn't in his office, the dining hall, the sprawling conservatory, or any of the miscellaneous rooms I'd found him in the past. I asked a few of the Aos Sí I encountered if they'd seen Sloth, but none of them had.

So, I wandered without any real intent, my mind spent and twisted with old anxiety. I knew it was futile to worry for Darius as my worrying would do absolutely nothing to help him, but I couldn't help myself. The more I worried about him, the more I stressed over the visions and their convoluted messages. The more I stressed, the more snarled the whole mess became. My mind was exhausted by the endless questions my idiot thoughts postulated.

I entered a new room I hadn't tromped through before. Though I hadn't climbed many stairs, I found myself at the top of one of the towers. It was an open-air, domed observatory, the far wall removed to reveal the marsh beyond. There was a large antique telescope that, under the brunt of the elements, was rusted right to the floorboards.

The dome above was inscribed with countless star trails. Each star was dotted by a gem stone of various colors and hues, resulting in a colorful display mapping the visible celestial sphere. It was all very pretty, but the room stank of disuse, and peeking through the telescope revealed nothing but a blurry lens clouded and corroded by years of dew and exposure to salt.

Approaching the telescope did, however, provide me with an exceptional view of the graveyard. The markers down below glistened with rain water, but what I found of interest was Peroth's presence among those markers. He was talking to a sable colored wolf, picking his way among the graves. He gestured north with a pointed finger, then swept his arm outward as if drawing a line. The wolf nodded, then lopped off into the fog.

Grumbling, I moved from the edge of the floor and turned to head downstairs. I stopped by my room to grab a scarf and a coat, seeing as it was growing bitterly cold outside the manor as the year drew nearer its close, then set out for the foyer.

When I finally made it outside, the Sin was—of course—gone from the section of graveyard I'd seen him in. I stood where he had been, frustrated, holding the scarf over my mouth and nose to keep myself somewhat warm. I squinted into distance, trying to spot the Sin in the fog. I wasn't about to go exploring in the cemetery. Not after what had happened last time. 

"Have you taken your maudlin musings out of doors?" 

I jumped when I heard Peroth's voice from behind me. He was standing in the shadow of a rundown mausoleum, watching me carefully with the raven still resting upon his shoulder. He leaned from the stone wall after announcing himself, shooing the black-feathered bird into flight.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"Because I didn't want you to." He folded his hands behind his back as he came nearer, the crunch of his footsteps loud in the quiescent space. "How are you feeling, Sara?"

"Fine." I fidgeted with my scarf as I was uncomfortable in his direct scrutiny. "Um, Amoroth said I should speak with you?"

"That was some hours ago."

I blew air through my lips. "I would have come sooner if she had actually told me where you were."

Peroth laughed and tossed his head back, further disturbing the quiet of the drab setting. Crows in the distance mimicked his haunting laugh. "Ah, I see now. She can be most unhelpful when she feels the need to complicate an issue."

It was a perfect summation of Amoroth's motives, and yet I was surprised Peroth voiced it aloud. He seemed fond of her, but it was relieving to know he wasn't blind to her faults.

"I wanted to check on you." The Sin drew level with me and peered sidelong into my eyes. "You've withdrawn since our mutual friend's departure. I'm not especially worried about you per se, as I find this response only...natural in your circumstance, but I do have a...." He lofted a hand as if trying to snatch a word out of the air. "Obligation to make certain you're well."

He passed me and began to pace with a measured gait. I turned to follow as I buried my hands into my coat's pockets. Peroth words resounded with me as we both stepped onto one of the few gravel paths maintained in the yard. "Darius asked you to look after me, didn't he?"

"Of course."

I figured as much. It was unlikely Pride would leave me to my own devices without asking someone else to check in on me. I was certain he worried for my safety, but I also knew he was aware of the trouble I was prone to getting myself into. It seemed Peroth was to be my babysitter in Darius's absence.

I supposed I should have been angry with Darius. I hated being treated like some air-headed child and he knew how much I hated it—but I was too anxious about him dying somewhere out beyond the ward to be anything else but worried.

"Do you know when he'll be back?" I asked as I bent my head against the wind chill.

The Sin shrugged, unaffected by the cold. He only wore his typical, casual day suit without any tie, the top few buttons of the white shirt left undone. "I haven't the foggiest. Hopefully before the solstice party. A bit of celebration may help elevate his mood. His mood and yours."

The month was but a few days shy of November. If Darius didn't return until the solstice party, that would mean he'd be gone for nearly two full months. Two entire months spent out beyond the ward dodging Balthier and Sethan while hunting for a weapon that most likely didn't exist.

I didn't care about any stupid party. I just wanted Darius to see reason and return to Crow's End.

"He told me he'd be back soon." My voice sounded oddly desolate, void of the emotions I felt burning in my lungs. The crunch of gravel punctuated each of my words as if each were its own statement, given with more weight than I intended. "He lied to me."

"Maybe, maybe not. But, you should remember, a few months—a few years—isn't all that long to us. We can perceive time differently if we wish or if our minds start to slip. Imagine living for so long you've literally seen everything. You'd get quite bored, I promise." Peroth inhaled and stretched as we continued walking. "A few months is but a passing weekend to a creature like Darius. He probably didn't see it as a lie."

I grit my teeth, wishing I could believe him, but I found it difficult. "Why didn't you stop him?" I demanded, speaking barely above a whisper. "You could have stopped him."

Peroth's gold eyes lingered sidelong on my own, then slid away. He abruptly linked his arm with mine and pulled me nearer. I froze, my mind instantly zinging back to the room with the gate where the Sin of Sloth had reduced me to a terrified huddle with just a touch. His body warmth was unnerving and I prayed he wasn't about to scare me to death.

"Do you see that grave there?" he asked, pointing out a single large tomb with a marble bust protruding above it. The bust was so weathered it had been reduced to a vague, humanoid lump. "It belongs to Gaios Pileidis, the second-born Sin of Greed. He was killed by Balthier a little less than two thousand years ago."

Peroth reached out to touch two fingers to what could have been the bust's brow before we moved on.

"This grave ahead belongs to Jasmine, the third-born Sin of Gluttony." Jasmine's grave was larger than Gaios's. The statue above it depicted a woman draped in a flowing dress. It, too, was weathered, but it was somewhat newer than the former marker.

"She was only other woman aside from our dear Amoroth to be a Sin, but she wasn't as...exacting as Amoroth. She was careless. She liked killing, and she liked twisting men about her fingers." Peroth's lips teetered into a frown as we passed Jasmine by. "She met her fate when she tried twisting the wrong men against one another. She was Sethan's lover, and she tried to become Darius's. Needless to say, Sethan was upset." Sloth rubbed his chin in thought. "I think that was almost a thousand years ago."

Peroth continued to explicate on several other graves, many of which didn't belong to Sins, only to friends or to allies of Peroth's. I wondered why he felt the need to go on this grim memory tour, but I didn't try resisting his pull, lest I irritate him.

"And this here—." He jerked his chin toward the newest grave in the row. It was only a simple marker with the name 'Horus' clearly chiseled, though the letters were of a dated style. "This is the fourth-born Sin of Lust, Horus. He died...four-hundred and eleven years ago."

I looked down at the solemn grave bordered with thatched weeds and sunken puddles. Peroth did as well, dew pebbling his brown hair with gathered drops of water. "Balthier killed him. He made the mistake of crossing the Sin of Envy."

I wasn't surprised. Horus hadn't been the first Sin to do so, and if Balthier succeeded in killing Darius, I doubted he would be the last. The Sin of Envy was an aberration, a creature of violent inclination who killed his own kind in calculated moves. He hunted other Sins. He was a monster.

Sighing, I turned my head from the grave and used my free hand to tuck my hair behind my ear. In doing so, I caught sight of a final marker at the very end of the row. It was set apart from the rest and smaller than the other heavily adorned tombs. It was nestled in the ponderous roots of a tree that was dormant for the winter.

There was a single rose on the grave's mound. Unlike the broken, ghostly remnants of the surrounding resting places, the rose was only days old.

"Who's buried there?" I asked, interrupting Peroth's contemplative mood. He blinked—but he didn't turn to look at the grave. He remained facing Horus's marker, though he was obviously aware of the austere spot in shade of the elm tree. Peroth loosened his arm and I removed my own. I took this as permission to inspect the plot myself, though the Sin didn't move.

"Her name was Kyra," he said in a brusque tone as his eyelids flickered. "She is...was...the reason Crow's End is the way it is." The Sin splayed a hand in the direction of his manor. Its many windows glowed like lidless eyes catching the invisible light of the sun. "I loved her. The Cassandra told me she was going to die in my arms and there was nothing I could do to save her. I obsessed over the elf's words and yet I could do nothing. Kyra died, and my mind...." His fingers danced. "Fractured. As the manor is a part of me, it—too—fractured."

There were other flowers around the grave aside from the rose. Perennials dotted with dying white flowers ringed the grave and wove intricate patterns through the roots and over the tree's crenulated bark. The gravel I stood upon was well-packed, as if a person frequently stood where I did now and looked down upon the grave belonging to the woman Kyra.

"I'm sorry," I told him, unsure of what else to say. "But why are you showing me all this?"

Peroth folded his arms behind his back. "No reason. Or, perhaps every reason. Perhaps I only wanted to reiterate how death is inevitable. Sometimes, it's even inevitable for immortals." He nodded toward the row of tired, unlit graves we'd walked by. "But I digress. Did you know when you first arrived in Crow's End, I was considering killing you?"

The creature said the words with utter aplomb, as if we were discussing the dismal weather. A chill chased itself down my spine—but I ignored it. "Yes. You told me you'd kill me in an instant if you thought it would benefit Darius."

He bowed. "Naturally, and you told me you wondered if prolonging your inevitable death was worth it. Please, let me state again how death is inevitable. Some deaths are just more literal than others."

Peroth extended his hand to me and waited. I swallowed my fear as laid my hand in his, allowing the Sin to draw me away from the grave of his lover.

"We die, Sara. Sometimes our breath still fills our lungs and our hearts still beat, but we can die. This less literal death happens when we lose purpose, because what is life without purpose? It's breathing. It's getting up in the morning, going about the motions and yet...we lose ourselves. We die."

Peroth released my hand and again proffered his arm. I took it, and he began to lead me toward the manor once more, his stride patient as to not hurry me along. "You worry for Darius. You shut yourself in your room and demand I tell you why I didn't stop him, why I let him go. I'll tell you why. It is because I want him to live. I don't want him to simply breathe and enact the rituals of living—I want Darius to live and to have a life he wants."

The Sin's arm tightened. He brought his other hand over to my arm and gave it a reassuring pat. "You give him purpose, whether you realize it or not. You give Darius a reason to want his life. In a sense, you could say he's found destiny in you and in your quest. The beat of your heart has become synonymous with his because Darius would do anything to see you survive this atrocity.

"When we met, I said I would kill you if I thought it would help Darius. I now believe killing you would be a death sentence for the Sin of Pride. I couldn't bring myself to take you from him, even if it was for his own good."

I stared at the wet path beneath our shoes as Peroth spoke. "You're wrong," I told Peroth as I shook my head. "His purpose for living is killing Balthier. I am just an accessory to that desire."

Peroth shrugged. Crows began to circle overhead as we passed the last of the markers and reentered the manor's grounds. The largest of their number diverted its course to alight upon Peroth's opposing shoulder. It began to click and croon in earnest and Peroth offered it his ear.

"It doesn't matter what you believe, Sara." The Sin led me to the manor's main door, and I took a moment to look into his face as we mounted the steps. None of Tehgrair's shadows showed in the wan glow of the porchlight, but some part of me was still able to sense them, as if the titular shadows of the shade lurked in the Sin's eyes, watching and waiting. "Only the truth does. Now, shall we go inside and get something to eat?"

I went with Peroth, and though I wasn't hungry, I sat at the table and picked at the food Mattie brought out as Peroth and I exchanged light conversation. All the while my mind remained out in the moors, lost in the mist as it ruminated over Peroth's statements and Pride's predicament.

You are all that stands between me and the event horizon of utter degradation. Darius had once told me those words after the cult had infiltrated my home. He'd insisted that losing another host to Balthier's treachery would cause him to lose his mind. Is that what Peroth meant by 'purpose'? That I was the final marker on a highway leading to absolutely nowhere? That I gave Darius direction in his turbulent life? A final warning to turn back before it was too late?

I stabbed at my meal, hearing the tines of my fork strike the plate. The intended meaning of Peroth's words would mean nothing if Darius was killed whilst searching for the weapon. His death would be quite literal, and my life would be irrelevant to him.

I needed to be stronger for Darius and for myself. I couldn't indulge in the succor weakness and self-pity offered. I needed to believe he would return to Crow's End on his own and that he hadn't made a final, fatal decision in leaving.

Above all, I needed to find the way to save the Sin of Pride's life before I ran out of time.