"So. You've regained your memories." He was clothed in darkness, the heavy wooden chair he sat in as foreboding as any throne. 

"How long did you think you were going to be able to blur them from me?" 

He shrugged, picking up his wineglass and swirling the contents slowly. "A week, at the least. Seven days, to kill seven of my enemies." I snarled. "It's a pity you missed one, but I'll send your brother to take care of the girl."

I stepped closer to the dining table where my family sat, frozen. 

"What reason did you have to kill those people?" Ignore what he said. He's trying to unsettle you, trying to make you lose your edge. I didn't dare glance at where Mother sat, hands clutching her napkin. 

He checked his nails, looking bored. "I don't owe you an explanation, darling daughter of mine." 

I laughed. "The Lord Almighty has a day in store for all the proud and lofty, for all that is exalted, and they will be humbled." I prowled closer, tugging the gloves away from my hands. 

"For you, that day is today." 

"Get out." He whispered, eyes never leaving mine. The Family poured out, leaving just us, my brother, and my mother. He too, tugged away his gloves. Showing those hands. 

They were black, as if he dipped them in black oil mixed with black paint, and they swirled. Danced on his palm, his fingers, a sort of hypnotic dance that I had to tear my eyes away from. And they danced right off his flesh, twirling through the air like paint swirling through water. 

"Wrath—a murderous drunkard and gambler who owed me fifty thousand dollars. Thank you for taking my trash out for me."

I stood still as his shadows swirled around me. 

"Envy—a woman who led her daughter to suicide. She had information regarding certain practices of mine, and I'd long held her daughter as blackmail over her. But when she looked like she was going to betray my confidence, well, I suppose I have to thank you for cleaning up my mess." 

I clenched my fists—they glowed bloodred. 

"The first couple were truly awful people. I didn't have to tamper with their memories at all for you to motivate yourself to kill them." 

I opened my palms, and release my own shadows—so that black and blood danced around the room. 

"But the rest—the innocent young man who wanted to stop selling my drugs. I think he was Lust? Or that senator, who wanted to introduce a bill that would clean out corrupt government officials—oh, they weren't sinners at all." 

I clenched my fists again, summoning my shadows to cocoon me, to shield me against the words he hurled like lethal daggers. 

"It was brilliantly poetic of me to come up with their 'sins', to make you a hand of justice instead of my stupid little pawn, if I do say so myself." 

The dam burst, and I roared out, sending all my shadows spirling down to him, now no longer mist and darkness but sharp, killing needles. 

He countered with a shield of black, teeth bared. "You were supposed to my heir—you, who inherited every drop of my power, every drop of my strength. Yet you left your FAMILY, for what? A stupid little boy who ditched you the second he was free!" 

I snarled back at him, defiance written on my face, inscribed onto my bones. "I would rather die than take your place as a King of Monsters!" 

He smiled. "Careful, little one." And he took full advantage of my hesitation when he sent his shadows flying towards where my mother and brother sat, eyes wide in fear. I sobbed. I had no choice. 

I sent mine to them, shielded them. And left myself open. And he slammed his shadows into me, again and again and again. 

I crumpled, fell to my knees. 

He stood, stalking over to where I knet, closing his fingers around my neck and bringing his lips to my ears. "You have been judged, and found wanting. Your sin is Pride." 

The mask and glove appeared on him.

The teardrop fell.

His hand slapped me across my cheek. 

And all I was were shadows. 

And all I felt was darkness.