The quiet moments of introspection Darius and I shared in the heart of Crow's End were some of the last we were able to enjoy for a while. I continued trying to solve the puzzle of our solution, and Darius threw himself into finding his own answers. The Sin was convinced only two avenues remained available to us: either we remained in the manor and waited for Balthier's next assault or we went on the offensive. 

I found neither option palatable. Neither did Peroth. 

They argued about the best course of action for days. Their voices mixed in dissent were a constant, if dull, rumble to my own musings. Amoroth complained—loudly—about their bickering, but she soon subsided into quiet grumbling and eventually went to find her own quiet corner of the manor.

Days passed, and the new year came. I knew it was the last new year I'd ever see.

Darius's hand slamming on Peroth's desk jerked me out of a sound sleep. The construct primer fell from my face as I sat up on the sofa, blinking heavy eyes toward the two male Sins at the desk. Darius didn't have the grace to look contrite as he glanced at me then slowly lifted his fist. Peroth was glaring at him, and at the dent he'd left in the desk.

"It would be sensible to seal the ward entirely," Darius seethed in a quieter voice, though his hands remained clenched in white-knuckled fists. "If there isn't a possible point of ingress, then he won't be able to get in at all—ever. Not unless the ward came down."

"And if we seal all avenues of escape for ourselves—." Peroth banged a drawer closed and glass cracked in the cabinet behind him. "Envy will lay siege to this place. Yes, he wouldn't be able to reach us, but he'd be able to kill any person who tried to enter or exit the grounds. Crow's End is home to many people, not just us, and I won't sacrifice their lives in a cheap game of maneuvers."

"Send them away." 

"If they had anywhere to go, do you think they'd be here? Honestly, Darius." Peroth stood, brushed Pride aside, and went to the sideboard. He took his time selecting a tumbler and his drink. "Even if that wasn't an issue...if the Wandergard do come here, we need a way out. If we seal ourselves in, we'll only be locking the door to our own trap."

Darius leaned upon the desk and squeezed its lip until I was sure his fingers left impressions. "You were so confident before about your ward holding against an Absolian assault. What's changed?"

"A fool mistakes confidence for certainty." Amber liquid splashed into a glass and filled the air with its bitter scent. "The wise man knows caution."

"I would never accuse you of being a wise man, Cuxiel."

Their arguing began anew but at a quieter volume. I sunk into the couch's squishy cushions and let my head rest on its back. I looked to the balcony and expected to find W'arg and Lionel up there sharing their quiet communiques, but W'arg was alone. I hadn't seen Lionel for a few days, and couldn't think of where the feline Druid had run off to.

From my pocket, my phone began to ring. Both Sins froze mid-conversation and stared as I fumbled for the thing and uttered half-hearted apologies. My mother's number, not yet programmed into the new device, flashed across the screen.

"Damn," I whispered before eyeing Darius and Peroth. Both were blatantly watching to see what I'd do. "I'm, ah, going to take this." 

Peroth pretended to be busy with his drink while Darius stared, one brow quirked in interest. I stumbled upright—limping on a foot plagued by pins and needles—and rushed from the office. The idea of the two Sins listening to me verbally fight with my mother was nauseating.

I was almost to the foyer when I answered the call and held the phone to my ear. "What?"

"Hello. Is this Sara?" 

It wasn't my mother. The voice who spoke from the other end of the line was male and vaguely familiar. I wondered if it was one of her coworkers, and a plethora of scenarios that would require a coworker to call Eleanor's daughter played through my mind. Was she hurt? A weight settled in the pit of my stomach.

"Yes, this is Sara."

"Good. We haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet, but we will very soon. My name is Sethan."

I missed the bottom step and caught myself on the newel—the newel I had clung to when I'd almost bled to death. Open-mouthed and breathless, I was at a loss for words and didn't immediately respond. 

The Sin of Wrath. Sethan was calling from my mother's phone. 

Darius. I need Darius—!

I twisted in place with the phone forgotten at my ear, but when Sethan began to speak, his words anchoring me in place. They poured into my ear like saccharine poison, and I comprehended why his voice was familiar. It was reminiscent of Darius's, an example of what Pride's voice would be like if he lost all his anger and his arrogance and was left with nothing but calm, emotionless grace.

"You're thinking of running to my brother. You aren't sure what's happening, what my contacting you means—but I warn you, mortal girl. Approach Darius, and their lives are forfeit."

Their. Their lives. Did—did he have my father as well?!

I rose a step upon the stairs, still looking to the landing and the office door I knew lay just out of sight. If Sethan was calling me from Eleanor's phone, if he somehow had my parents, had found them and hurt them—

My lungs burned for air that wouldn't come. I hadn't taken a breath since answering the phone. Pride would know what to do, or Peroth, or even Amoroth. Someone else would know how to handle this.

"Look behind you."

I did, if only because I sensed a presence standing too near. My heart must have stopped in that moment, because when it started beating again, all I could hear was its thunder.

Roman Barnaby stood in my shadow. The vampire had his arms wrapped around himself, his fingers crimped upon his shoulders as tremors rolled through him. His eyes were wide, red, and totally unseeing. Blood welled and dripped from the impressions left by his fangs in his bottom lip.

"He's strong, despite his appearance, and has been gorging upon Sloth's blood. Cuxiel must have realized using his own blood subverts the taint of mine and mitigates the strength of my Call. Alas, proximity is king, and with me so near...the boy had no other recourse but to submit."

"Roman...." I choked on the vampire's name. Tears formed smeared rivers upon his pale face as the skin about his eyes marbled with black veins. The pain in his mind brought on by his Night Father's presence was evident.

"If you take one step toward my brother or Sloth or his wench, I'll know. And I will kill your parents."

"Why?" I demanded, wanting to back up, not daring to test Wrath's resolve. "Why are doing this? You've no reason to hurt them!"

Sethan didn't answer my questions. I heard his quiet breath buffet the receiver as Roman watched with unblinking eyes. "You're going to walk out to the road. You're not going to say a word to anyone."

"Why?!" I shouted as my voice cracked and echoed in the empty foyer. "Why are you doing this?!"

I could sense Sethan's exasperation through the phone. Roman was trying to smother his sobs and failing. "Because I'm going to hand you to Balthazar and end this. Come outside—and remember...I'm watching."

He ended the call. I lowered the phone and stared at the blank screen.

Minutes. All it had taken were a few spare minutes for my world to be so thoroughly shaken. I should've been familiar with the occurrence by now. Overnight I'd lost my sister and my way of life, and knew all the fine comforts we surround ourselves with can be ripped away in an instant.

Like a vase that falls from on high, one moment we're whole, and the next we're shattered.

I sunk onto the step as I cradled the phone in my hands. Swallowing was difficult, but I managed it and kept down the rising bile. Flashes of warmth and chill washed through my body as I simply sat and absorbed the totality of Sethan's words.

Tell Darius, one section of my mind cried. As fast as you can, run to the office and tell them what Wrath has done. Tell them. Tell him. If Sethan is just outside, then maybe—

Then maybe I would be forcing Darius and Peroth into a fight with Darius's brother, and maybe Envy would be there. I knew Balthier lurked in the moors when it suited his mood. If I pushed Pride and Sloth outside the ward....

It could be an elaborate trap devised by Sethan and Balthier to kill Darius and Peroth once and for all.

I lifted my chin to look at Roman. The vampire was fighting Wrath's compulsion but was losing. The blood from his lip trickled from his chin and pattered upon the steps. All the while his gaze remained faceted upon me as if he couldn't look away.

"D-don't," he stuttered, his hands snapping from his arms to grip his throat. His nails ripped at the alabaster flesh. "D-don't!"

I didn't know what he meant. Don't tell Darius? Or don't go outside?

Shuddering, I ran my fingers through my hair and gripped it by the roots. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know—!

Leaving the manor meant acknowledging my end. Whether I died by Sethan's hand or Balthier's, I would meet my fate beyond the ward's safe embrace. The question was; would Sethan release Eleanor and Luc? Or would he kill them on principle?

If I continued to sit here, if I just held my arms about my legs and waited until Darius came looking for me, could I live with the knowledge of knowing I had done nothing when my parents were taken by Wrath? Could I live with their deaths?

Eleanor and I were at constant odds with one another—but I loved the woman, and I loved my Papa. They were my parents. They were my family, and they had been taken because of me. They had been sucked into this nightmare because of my involvement.

I swayed when I stood, and the first step forward felt like a surrender. The second was confirmation, and the third was rift with anger. The rage gripped my heart so tightly the pain manifested in a physical ache. I wouldn't snivel and cry. I wouldn't go forth like a bawling child lured out from under the bed with a false promise of the monsters being imaginary.

The monsters weren't imaginary. They surrounded us and existed everywhere.

I was almost to the front door when it swung open and the first gust of winter air fell upon me. The wetness on my cheeks that I hadn't known was there stung beneath the frigid bite. My will faltered when Anzel Vyus stepped inside holding a bushel of freshly harvested greenery.

I think the Vytian meant to ignore my presence and simply pass by without a word. I knew he was still upset with me and his mood was exacerbated of late by some unknown issue. Anzel could hardly look into my eyes whenever we exchanged a few passing words—but when he spotted the tears and dread on my face, Anzel stopped in his tracks.

"Sara, are you all right?" he demanded as he caught my hand in his own. His keen gaze slid to the rocking vampire in my shadow and narrowed. "Is Roman bothering you?"

"No," I rushed to say, feeling Sethan's attention burn through the vampire's eyes. "I, uh—." I squeezed the Vytian's cold fingers, wishing my mouth wasn't so dry with trepidation. "Would you do me a favor?"

He nodded, his sable hair slipping from behind his sharp ears. "Anything, love."

"Would you tell Darius—?" I ground my teeth. "Would you tell Pride I'm sorry?"

I saw the distaste in the Vytian's colorless eyes a moment before his lips curled into a sneer.

"Please, Anzel."

He loosened his fingers and let me go.

Close to panicking, I grabbed the Vytian by the collar of his button-down and yanked him to my level. I brushed my lips across his cheekbone and withdrew. Anzel remained frozen in place as if stunned.

"For the kindness you continue to show me, even if I don't deserve it." I laid my trembling hand on his chest. Please tell him. Please. "Please, Anzel. Don't let your hatred poison all that is good in you."

I walked past him. The Vytian didn't move, didn't call me back. As far as I knew, when Roman slammed the door closed to the manor for the final time, Anzel was still standing beyond the threshold with cut flowers clasped in his fist and that mask of pain and confusion arresting his features.

The graves were quiet as Roman and I went ever nearer to my end. My stride was steady and even while the vampire's rambled over the gravel path as he tried to shove Sethan from his mind. I knew his attempts were futile. The nearer we came to the manor's gate, the stronger Wrath's Call became.

As the mist eddied about my legs and filled my lungs with its watery chill, the desire to turn around and run back to Crow's End was almost insurmountable. Only the sheer force of my will kept my legs moving and my features composed.

I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't be afraid. I wouldn't give Sethan or Balthier the satisfaction.

The lane ended beneath the wrought iron gate depicting the manor's name. Rainwater dripped from the jagged letters and landed in the puddles formed inside the lane's ruts. I didn't look back. I feared I wouldn't be able to stop myself from returning.

Before me the ward hummed with frightful energy. Darius had explained that the energy didn't emanate from the ward itself, but rather from the energy it split in two with its passage. The energy clung to the ward face like static to a television screen. It prickled beneath my fingers as I brushed across it.

Wrath appeared on the other side.

The relation between him and Pride was undeniable. They shared the same shoulder breadth and symmetrical features. Sethan's mien was more bookish and scholarly. His face was a tad thinner, his chin more pointed, and his eyes larger. His t-shirt and slacks were soaked and clung to his thin, emaciated body. I could've counted his ribs if I'd wanted to.

He didn't gloat as Balthier would have. He didn't smile. Sethan only held out his hand in silent demand for me to cross the ward.

The Sin of Wrath and I stared at one another. In the distance I heard the weres howling, but the sound was moving away, as if they'd been drawn off my some distraction.

"I want proof," I said, stomping my foot in the muddy puddles. "I want proof that they're alive!"

Sethan blinked those dead, emotionless eyes of his and slowly reached into his back pocket. He retrieved a phone—Eleanor's phone—and began to deliberately enter a series of numbers. The Sin then enabled the speaker and held my mother's cell aloft.

The call was answered before the first ring could echo through the marshland. I heard an outraged shout, then the masculine grunt of a body being struck before my mother screamed, "You get your filthy hands off of him—!"

Sethan ended the call. I glared at him as the sound of Eleanor's protests seemed to reverberate in the bleak landscape and steal the marrow from my bones. I had never heard her so afraid before.

"You have my word they will both be unharmed and released if you do exactly as I say."

"Your word doesn't mean shit to me!" I snarled. My legs wobbled and my knees came together in an effort to keep me standing. Someone had been hit. My dad? Was Luc okay?!

He swept a hand across his brow to lift his sopping hair from his eyes. "And yet, all you have is my word promising that if you balk now, my next visit to the manor will be to hurl their bloody heads over the gate."

I stopped breathing again as the image overcame my thoughts. No—!

Roman dropped to his knees, clutching his skull.

"I-if you hand me over to Balthier, will it stop?" I demanded as I eyed the poor, wretched creature. "Will he leave Darius alone?"

Sethan gave an indifferent shrug. "Maybe." He again extended his hand in silent invitation. It hovered between us like a scrawny, bone-white spider. "Come with me now or I'm leaving to shred what remains of your family to bits."

"No!" I yelled, then quieted add, "No."

Every instinct in my being screamed to run—but I couldn't. Even if Wrath proved deceptive and he killed my parents anyway, I couldn't refuse if I had the mere chance of saving Eleanor and Luc. Staying in the manor was the one way to assure their brutal deaths.

I couldn't abandon them, not when they were innocent in all this. Not when they were all I had left.

"If you betray me," I told Sethan as I pressed more firmly upon the ward's barrier. "I will haunt you from my grave."

Peroth's ward crackled in warning as I threw my weight into it. Its utter stillness sensed the antithesis of my complex soul and tried to expel it, but I pushed through its tight clutches until—with a sudden snap akin to large rubber band striking my skin—I was thrown to the opposing side.

Thrown right into Sethan.

I collided with the wall of his body and immediately recoiled, but he snaked his arm about my neck and locked it in place. He smelt terrible, as if he'd gone a number of days without bathing, and the unmistakable odor of rot clinging to his clothes made me retch.

"Take my advice," the Sin Wrath said without a flicker of emotion entering his voice. "Don't fight the darkness."

He propelled us into the Realm before I could tell him it wouldn't work, that I couldn't be taken through it. The inevitable pressure came and pushed against my being. I expected us to be forcibly ejected when the sensation crested—but it didn't happen. Pain lanced through every nerve in my being as the Realm tried to throw me free of its depths, but Sethan didn't relent. That arm around my neck was an iron vice pinning my soul in place even as the Realm began to crush me like an aluminum can.

I would have screamed had I been able to breathe.

I took Sethan's advice. When the darkness finally took me, I didn't fight against it. I sank into unconsciousness and was grateful for it.