"Scared, my apprentice?"

My knees shook and my lungs couldn't seem to get enough air, but I wasn't sure scared was the way to describe my utter shock and disbelief. I felt as if I'd been walking upon solid ground and it had abruptly shifted. Not enough to throw me, but just enough to make certain my entire world was tilted.

It can break their mind or their body, creating amalgamations and monstrosities beyond compare, Peroth had said when speaking of those poor, failed shadeborns of the past. We've also had the odd case of possession.

"You're...shadeborn. A failed shadeborn." The word left me like a traumatized bird who'd fallen out of the nest one too many times. I spoke without thought, without conviction—so when Cage grinned and nodded, I gaped like the witless fool I was.

"Get away from him!"

An unfamiliar voice shouted and I jumped. From around the wall of lattice four people had appeared, three of them men, the fourth a woman, all carrying plates of food absconded from the dining room. Two of the men were thin and bookish, dressed in suits with black capes that had the same steel-blue lining as Cage's coat. They had patches over their breasts studded with turquoise gems that emitted a dull blue glow.

The small, bespectacled woman didn't wear their colors and looked unsure of her role in her current association.

The final man stood a head above the others and was the one who had shouted at me. He had hard eyes and a face covered in a clipped, full beard. He wore a suit, but it was finer than those worn by his compatriots, and his cape was bordered in real fur the color of snow. A wolf pelt with a silver chain attached was draped about his shoulders, covering the identifying patch, but it was clear he was a member of whatever group he commanded.

I began to lift my hands to show I meant no harm—but this was apparently the wrong thing to do, seeing as the shortest man immediately reached for a pouch at his belt, his companion snatched a piece of chalk out of his breast pocket, and their leader yanked upon the pelt's chain with a barked word.

The pelt flowed from the man's shoulders as if it were almost weightless. I thought it'd float and land upon the pavers—but, before my eyes, the pelt was rippling and expanding, engorging as muscles and flesh grew beneath the roiling fur. The transformation took only seconds, and when it was complete, a hulking timber wolf landed upon the ground with all four fully-formed paws.

Mages. These men are mages!

The glassy-eyed beast growled and lunged for my throat.

A feline yowl broke the wolf's snarl as Lionel came bounding out from under a nearby bench. What he had been doing there, I hadn't a clue. He leapt for the wolf as I reached for him, terrified his soft kitty body was going to be torn to bits. What was he thinking?!

My fingertips barely grazed the Druid's furry flank when a blast of cool energy shoved me off my feet like a hurricane wind. My mouth was filled with the taste of mint when, though watery eyes, I squinted toward the wolf and saw—

A tiger, but not as I understood tigers to be. This feline was black and silver with highlights of deep violet outlining his silver stripes. He was easily twice the size of the timber wolf, and with one massive paw it swatted the dog about the head and sent it flying right back at the man holding its chain.

The tiger filled its sizable lungs with air and let loose a savage, cringe-worthy roar. The party beyond the lattice wall quieted and the sound of music faltered as the musicians paused.

Easing from my skinned elbows, I stared wide-eyed at the huge predator before me and choked, "L-Lionel?"

The tiger turned and its stern orange eyes found me. A long, black tongue lolled from its powerful jaws as he licked his paws and purred in baritone.

Definitely Lionel.

"Enough!" the lead mage barked at the whimpering wolf. He jerked the chain, and the arcane magic holding the creature together disintegrated as the pelt slumped into the pavers.

Peroth stepped from the Realm with Amoroth. The elder Sin took one glance at the situation and stiffened, his bright eyes dimming to a tarnished gold. Amoroth only snorted and sauntered by the tiger, the fuming mages, and my grinning magic instructor still seated on the bench. She hooked an arm under mine and proceeded to lift me upright as if nothing were amiss.

"Vytian silk costs more than a few kingdoms. Try not to drag it in the mud, Gaspard."

Peroth had his back to the two of Lionel and us as he glared at the mages. He looked quite sinister in his formal, fitted attire, and his displeasure had a palpable heat. "What is the meaning of this, Tomas?"

The mage spoke as he resituated the pelt on his muscled shoulders. The other two mages and the woman I guessed was some kind of witch liaison had visibly tensed and retreated when Peroth appeared, but the mage named Tomas did not.

"This...woman was attempting to free it." He gestured violently in Cage's direction. The black mage rolled his eyes. "We told you we wouldn't tolerate any interference—!"

"And I told you, boy, that you don't make the rules around here." Peroth kept his voice light and conversational, but every nuance of my being was screaming in warning as the shadows slithered nearer the Sin from beneath the benches and between the ivy leaves. "I kept your prisoner secure, as per out agreement. It's not her fault you left him unattended like some brainless oaf. Now, get him out of here."

The mage met Peroth's gaze for a moment longer, then wisely looked away. He lifted his chin in silent demand as his men moved forward to release Cage and the other prisoners from the bench. The black mage lunged upright when the other mages came near and both yipped like terrified kittens. Cage laughed.

Hanging limply in Amoroth's grasp, I looked at my instructor, wondering if I should say something—but Cage only met my eyes with a wink as he pressed his index finger against his lips.

He wants me to be quiet, but to what extent? What doesn't he want me to say?

As the two underlings worked to unhook the prisoners, the witch spoke softly into a cell phone. When she hung up, she nodded to Tomas and said, "She's opened the portal."

"Then get on with it."

The witch scuttled to do as the gruff mage said. She unearthed a tightly rolled piece of leather from under her cloak's flap and began to unravel it. The slab of leather was about four feet tall and four feet wide, and I had to wonder how she'd managed to hide that thing under her clothes.

The woman began to spread the smooth leather flat on the pavers when Lionel abruptly reverted forms, a fresh gust of mint-tinged energy meeting my nose. I jumped and stepped on Amoroth's foot as the tiger shrank into the sleek calico cat once more. His tail swished to and fro as he turned his nose up at the mages, twisted from the busy witch, and went to rub his head upon my leg.

"Thank you, Lionel," I muttered at the Druid as he wove about my ankles. He purred in response before once more meandering into the dark.

Everyone but the witch noted our brief exchange. She fumbled at a pocket in her vest and withdrew several raw gemstones. I realized there was a construct branded into the leather and the witch now arranging crystals was an enchantress. Viable trills of energy were locked within the active construct, meaning it could have only been created by a wizard.

Cage had taught me many things, including how to properly identify black magic. Mixing witch and mage magic was considered heinously aberrant, one of the lowest forms of black magic a mage—or witch—could use. Even so, I was seeing it performed before me.

"So black magic is okay when it suits your needs?" I asked the lead mage. Amoroth pinched my arm hard enough to bruise, but I ignored her. The mage, in turn, ignored me—though I heard Cage guffaw.

Energy built like an incoming tide as the witch knelt before her illicit magic and began to quietly chant. Light bloomed in each of the crystals one by one until all were blazing bright. The construct became transparent and gradually began to revolve.

"Portal open, Warden Blue-Iron."

Tomas grunted as he watched Cage. "One by one, then."

The two nameless prisoners were each led to the construct's edge. Neither had to be coaxed forward, and I suspected they direly wanted to get away from Cage. I wasn't sure the mages or Peroth knew what lurked in the shadows of the black augur's mind, but those prisoners sure did. They were utterly terrified of the man.

They both disappeared into thin air.

Cage hesitated when his turn came, resisting the hand of the mage wrapped about his upper arm. He tipped a nod in Peroth's direction. "Thank you for your hospitality, Sloth. I enjoyed my time in your illustrious care."

Peroth bowed his head, though I noticed a muscle twitched in his jaw.

"Until we meet again." At the last moment, Cage's eyes swung from the Sin to me. Red and orange color smoldered in their depths as he grinned—then he was gone.

One by one the mages vanished too. When Tomas disappeared with a final sneer for Peroth's benefit, the witch gathered up her diminished crystals and the dead construct. She rose and faced the Sin, though she couldn't lift her chin from her chest and her hands were shaking as she rolled up the leather slab.

"The S-Syndicate would like to t-thank you for your continued c-cooperation, M-Master Sloth."

Peroth harrumphed. His expression remained tense and his eyes dark, but he was notably more polite to the witch when he spoke. "Give your coven Mistress my regards."

"Y-yes, sir."

The witch was off without another word, hurrying as quickly as she could without sprinting toward the road. Peroth frowned as he watched the young woman disappear into the graveyard's fog, but he did nothing to stop her nor did he seem inclined to. He muttered something about "blighted magic users" before turning to Amoroth and me.

"I see it's impossible for you to stay out of trouble for more than a few minutes." He exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Amor, hand her to me."

"Hey, I'm not a ch—!"

Despite my objections, I was in fact handed to the Sin of Sloth like an ungainly, woman-sized child. Peroth's hand was hot upon my forearm as he dragged me from the secluded area to the courtyard under the playful lights of the swinging lanterns.

My heels caught on an uneven paver and I stumbled, but the Sin kept walking. His fingers were like iron on my skin. "Peroth—."

"You're a magnet for all that writes your doom, do you know that? That man in chains was a black mage, Sara. He's quite possibly the most wanted man in all of Terrestria."

I swallowed and refrained from speaking. It was a blessing the Sin didn't know I'd been the mage's student for months now.

The dancers had swelled in number while I'd been causing trouble. They spilled across the courtyard, pirouetting and waltzing from one end to the other, the sound of the laughter and voices raised in song inspiring an infectious mood of jubilation. Many of the women wore gowns that were far flashier and more exotic than mine, but the nauseating mix of color made them appear garish and trite. The material of my own dress mirrored the rainbow of colors shining from the lanterns as if I were wearing a dress of many colors instead of one..

"Peroth," I said again as we stopped at the edge of the dance floor and Sin began to look around. His fingers squeezed as if to silence me, but I endeavored on. "I know you wish to say more on what just happened, but I've something more presses to say. I need to ask you about him, about Vel—."

The Sin moved with such speed several of the Aos Sí shrieked. He clapped his hand over my mouth with punishing force and yanked me near enough for the heat of his breath to be felt on my skin. His uncouth handling was alarming.

"Do not speak that name aloud," he hissed. "I haven't the faintest idea where you heard it, but do not repeat it."

"Why?" I quietly demanded when he removed his hand, all too aware of our audience. Peroth turned to look at every curious faerie in turn, and each immediately preoccupied him or herself with dancing. "Why not? Why not say it, why not bring him here? He might be able to help us."

I didn't understand his reluctance. Peroth had called the Baal once before for help. I had seen it. What if we summoned him again? His shadeborn was gone, but surely the Baal still had a vested interest in what was happening at Crow's End? Surely he could be convinced to save his self-proclaimed children before they tore each other into pieces?

"No," Peroth intoned, adopting a false smile for the bystanders as he again pulled me forward into the moving dancers. "Absolutely not. He would as soon ruin us as help us. A Sin of Greed by the name of Abd Al-Ala once learned his name and sought his help in stopping Balthier's slaughter. Do you know what happened to Abd?"

Peroth spun to face me. His eyes were black as Tehgrair's shade lurked inches below his flesh. "He was thrown into the fires of the Pit for wasting the Baal's time."

The blood rushed my head as the Sin nodded.

"Don't think of it, Sara. Put it from your mind. He would kill Darius."

My nails cut into the undersides of my palms as I clenched my fists. But how can he be so sure?

The Sin and I stared at one another in the midst of the dancers, unmoving and rigid as two mountains in the gale. He was angry with me, which wasn't normal for Peroth. I certainly irritated the poor man more than I should, but anger was an infrequent emotion for him. It didn't sit well on his handsome face.

Small smudges of exhaustion marked the undersides of his eyes.

"May I cut in?"

Both of us stirred when Anzel spoke. The Vytian prince had materialized from the miasma of dancing bodies. He was just as finely dressed as he had been when the evening began, though I could detect the faint aroma of different perfumes on his jacket as if he'd been shrugging off clingy women.

His mirror-like eyes were faceted upon Peroth's punishing grip.

The Sin of Sloth opened his mouth to undoubtedly tell Anzel off—when some unknown distraction caught the ancient creature's attention and drew his eye toward the manor. His brows drew together as he released my arm.

"I must go."

He stepped into the Realm, disappearing in a wind of acrid soot.

Anzel didn't spare the Sin another thought, though I wanted to know what had drawn him away. Peroth hated Anzel and hated when the Vytian was anywhere in my vicinity. Something of greater priority must have demanded his attention.

Anzel held my hand in his as he placed his other hand on my waist. I felt the glancing pressure of his fingertips on my person as I glanced up at him, startled, and he smiled. The different colors of the lanterns played across his dark hair and golden face in a mirage of glistening hues.

"Do you waltz, Sara?" he asked with a soft, inveigling tone. His long fingers tightened at my waist as the Vytian positioned my hands. I flushed from his close proximity, uncomfortable with the curious eyes of the faeries observing us. He didn't wait for my response before pushing us into motion.

I did, in fact, know how to waltz. In spite of my less-than-admirable social skills, Eleanor had forced both Tara and myself through a regiment of dance and etiquette classes in our youth. Most of what had been drilled into my head hadn't stuck, but dancing was easy. I fell into the steps with a begrudging grace.

If the shock on Anzel's face was anything to go by, he was surprised. His beauty was disarming and strange, but small defects in his appearance were visibly at this closeness. He had a chip in one of his incisors as if he'd been punched in the mouth, and there was scar on the cusp of his pointed ear as if someone had tried to cut it off. "You dance beautifully."

"Blame my mother."

He laughed, the sound like cathedral bells lifting above the lilting music. "Ah, your mother. I would thank her if I could. What was her name?"

"Eleanor."

"And your father's?"

"I told you before. It's Luc."

"That's right. I'd forgotten for a moment." He turned us in time to the song, mirroring the motions of those around us. The others were flashy in their brassy gowns and gemmed tuxedos. Anzel and I were two monochrome streaks in an explosion of color. "Any siblings?"

My breath caught at his casual question, and he immediately noticed the sound of my teeth clamping together. I'd never told Anzel of Tara. Sometimes I caught myself about to say something about her, some innocuous anecdote or amusing tale where we'd gotten into mischief, but speaking of her was still painful. I couldn't yet put her in the past tense.

"A sister," I murmured into his lapel. He was nearly a full foot taller than I was. "A twin. She...died."

Anzel paused, his hand shifting on my hip. "I'm terribly sorry," he muttered as we continued. "What was her name?"

"Tara."

The song ended. I went to release Anzel's hand, but the Vytian propelled us right back into the dance as another ballad began. His hand went from my hip to my back, pressing me nearer.

"You know, in Vyus, twins are seen as a good omen," he explained in a careful, modulated voice. "Especially twin girls. We have so few births there. Women in the Vale and in Vyus are...rarer. The ratio's one to ten, if you can believe it. Because of that, we cherish women and children fiercely."

I said nothing. Anzel cleared his throat and kept speaking.

"There's much to see there. Much I miss. Gran Vyus is actually laid out in the form of a giant construct. It takes almost a hundred people to activate and it can be used for a variety of different things. During the winter it's used to warm the city, and in the summer it's used to bring the rain. The avenues are tree-lined, the buildings domed in bronze and white stone, and all built upon crystal rivers and waterfalls.

"You can walk the market place in the afternoons. You can spend all day there, finding anything you desire from any of the realms. You can eat traditional fare in the park beneath trees older than the stars, and when you look up you can see the gold underbelly of the leaves glowing with the warmth of the sun.

"If you journey far enough, you can walk to the banks of the lake and sit there as the sun sets, watching the sprites dance upon the water. If you lay back into the bank and listen, you can even hear the chants being sung in one of the Dying King's temples."

I looked into Anzel's eyes and saw light in his reflective irises. He remembered Vyus so intensely, in such wild technicolor, it sounded enchanting.

"You could come with me."

"W-what?" I stopped dancing and so did Anzel, though he didn't let go.

"I'm going to find a way back, whether Sloth wants it or not. I will find a way home, and I will be the King of Vyus. The Republic will be no more. You could come with me, away from this place, from these...creatures. You could learn magic at one of the academies, if you wished. Whichever discipline you wanted in any school you desired. Or you could have a private tutor. You could live in the palace or on your own. You could visit all those places I've told you about, or anywhere else. You'd have an entire world of magic to explore, an endless road of possibility rolled out at your feet. I could give that to you."

I stared into his eyes as I took a lone, tremulous breath.

"I—."

"You'd only need to say yes, and I would assure your passage there, even if I cannot make it. I could send you with Elias, as he his returning soon."

King above, I wanted it. The idea of leaving this misery-ridden realm behind, of escaping into a world of magic and elation where I could study spells and explore lands bursting with dragons and sprites and all manner of mystic things was exhilarating.

Reality was a sobering blow that stole my answering smile before it could form. I was going to die. Perhaps not tonight, or tomorrow, but soon. Balthier would still be alive and stalking these lands. Darius and the other Sins I'd grown fond of would still be in peril. They couldn't—wouldn't—follow me into the Vale, and I wouldn't abandon Darius. I would never abandon that stubborn, fiery monster who I had sold my soul to.

I lived upon borrowed time, time I couldn't fretter away on frivolous dreams.

Frustrated, I pulled free of Anzel and refused the tears trying to loose themselves from my lashes. I hated him for offering such a thing to me. It was something I couldn't have and could never enjoy.

The pain of rejection shone in the Vytian's eyes. "Sara...." He brushed his fingers over my bare arm, tracing the line of a scar left by Eoul's bullet, and I retreated.

"I have to go."

I pushed my way through the Aos Sí without looking back. I heard Anzel shout my name again, but I didn't acknowledge him. I swallowed the self-loathing building in my throat and left the courtyard, storming to the manor's crowded entrance. The fluttering lanterns I had once found so pretty seemed garish. The high chorus of faerie voices intertwined in song was ear-splitting.

I wiped the moisture from my eyes before it had a chance to fully form and pushed through the tittering faeries still bunched by the front door. I had no business thinking of other realms, of other worlds and their splendors or of dragons and Kings and world-altering magics. This was all I would ever have. This mundane realm, and this quickly dwindling life were all I would ever know and all I could ever claim as my own.

The faeries finally shifted enough for me to get into the foyer—but I stopped before I could go upstairs.

There he was. Like a sudden apparition summoned from a dream, the Sin of Pride was perched on the third step with his elbows resting on his raised knees and his head cocked at an angle to catch the chandelier's light. His carmine hair was wet as if recently washed and his jaw was freshly shaven. Unlike the svelte men around him, the Sin was dressed only in a black t-shirt and pair of jeans.

His dark eyes took in the crowd, then landed up me, registering my appearance. I stood not six feet from the sulfurous creature and was at a loss for words.

I'd forgotten the weight of his attention, the way the Sin's presence seemed to positively fill a room. My memory didn't do the man justice. I hadn't lain eyes on Darius in months, and it felt like years. I didn't know what I should say to him. It was as if a chasm had opened between us, and it was filled with a thousand questions, a million words, and things I couldn't put labels to—but, mostly, I was rendered so utterly mute by a sheer abundance of relief.

The Sin of Pride was alive.

Darius's brow quirked as he rose from his perch. A harsh grin sprawled across his lips. "Speechless? My, my...miracles do happen."

I snapped. All it took was one quip from him to yank me across that infinite, confounded chasm—and I punched him. Darius saw the blow coming and did nothing to deflect it. I ground my knuckles into the side of his face and immediately yelped when pain shot through my bones.

"You absolute bastard!" I shouted, attracting the attention of everyone nearby. The Sin smirked and deflected my second blow. "You said you'd only be gone a few days! You lied to me! You lied to me and I swear to God I—!"

I struck him in the chest, in the stomach, in shoulder—anywhere I could hit him. The Sin flinched when I smacked his shoulder, but otherwise didn't react. He took my wrist in his hand and I wrenched it free, only to throw both my arms around his neck and bury my face in his shirt's collar. He smelt of ash and brimstone and all the strange, primal things that bore our world forth from the fires of creation. He smelt like Darius.

"Bastard," I hissed again, curling my fingers into his unyielding bones as if my will alone could anchor him in place. "You could have died!"

Slowly, as if unsure of himself, the Sin eased his arms around my middle and squeezed. His fingers passed through my hair, dismantling the braid, and held me secure against himself. I could feel his steady heartbeat mirroring my own inside his chest.

"I missed you too," Darius whispered, chin resting on top of my head. "Idiot girl."

* * *