PATIENCE

I winded down the grand spiral staircase of the Court, keeping my palm poised gently on the banister. My steps sliced through the towering doors of my home—and then I was outside the golden gates.

Finally, I could breathe.

The Unholy Court was my home. But there was nothing like being imprisoned for thousands of years—and there was nothing like the taste of freedom.

As if out of habit, my muscles tensed.

They're gone, I reminded myself. The Seraphics—they're gone.

And then my muscles tensed all over again as I watched the disappearing silhouette of the Rook. A soft gasp left my lips and I made to take a step forwards—until my eyes caught onto him.

A figure dressed head-to-toe in black stood on the Rook's soft carpet. Even from this distance—even though he was there, and I was here—I could still feel the chill of his Sin.

My fingers clenched into a fist. I unclenched them just as quickly and blew out a slow breath.

The Rook disappeared behind a wafting cloud and the wind carried it further and further away from me.

Wrath had taken the Rook without me.

He'd left me behind.

On purpose.

No problem.

I willed that darkness back into my veins—that darkness that made me whole, that darkness that would swallow me one day. A weight settled onto my shoulders and I hissed as that familiar sharpness pierced through my shoulder blades.

I felt my throat begin to close up as the first flap sliced through the air. My wings began to beat, pulling and pushing their crimson flourish—over and over again. No matter how many times I did it, no matter how many times I let my Virtue gain control, I never got used to the way my heart stilled as my feet left the ground.

The floor was solid. Safe. Controlled.

The air was anything but.

My wings were tumultuous; they had a will of their own; they were uncontrollable.

They were like him.

It was the only thing Wrath and I had in common. Except my wings scared me, and he didn't have the freedom to use his.

•••
WRATH

"Which district are you coming from?"

I stared into blank space; unblinking, unthinking.

I would ruin her.

"Hello? Mister!" My gaze flashed to the man as he snapped his fingers in my face. I watched as he gulped. "I—I said, Where are you coming from?" He moved a pace away from me.

I knew my voice would boom and rattle in every molecule of the place before I'd even opened my mouth to speak. The Sins and Virtues left an unrecognisable trail of power wherever they went, and Patience and I would be no different.

"The Unholy Court," I spoke simply, but his reaction to my Court was clear.

They feared us—all of us. I felt my jaw tense as the bitter pang of his terror settled in the back of my throat.

His sixteen fingers twitched around the magical scroll in his grip as he searched through the system for the location of my luggage. His skin was just as dark as his eyes and when he spoke, I caught a flash of his bright blue tongue. The paper gleamed for a split second, the orange beams reflecting in his onyx pupils.

"The luggage from the Unholy Court has been transported to your room." He bowed his head slightly. "I hope your journey here was pleasant."

I gave him a tight nod before brushing past him and into the tumult of the crowd.

What was his kind called again?

Draycons? No.

Rezos? No.

I couldn't remember. It had been too long.

Beings of all shapes and sizes swarmed around me, fighting to find someone who would point them to their luggage. The tall gates of the camp stood before me; darkness shrouded one half, and light glistened over the other. The two halves of Althea and Penum; a symbol of King Candour and Queen Crook's shared rule over the camp. It was the only place deceit and truth would ever meet—the only place evil and good could coexist.

The clouds swarmed in the sky, rushing overhead with the arrival of a storm. A thunderclap tore through the air like a violent stab. The little light from the suns quickly dimmed and instead grey darkness washed over the earth. My eyes traced the sky of their own accord—Patience still wasn't here.

That poor, poor thing.

Grinning, I strode through the opening in the gates.

I hope she never makes it here.

The second I stepped foot into the camp, I realised I hated it. I hated the grey walls and the grey floor—the grey windows and the grey stairs. There was no colour. It was all—solid. A shiver crawled down my spine. Everything was grey because it was one of the only colours dark enough to hide the centuries-old bloodstains.

Anger threatened to spill into my veins. I swallowed that wrath—that rage I had for the Seraphics.

It was as though the screams were embedded in the walls; screams of when the Seraphics ruled over everything with an iron fist.

I growled as my Sin bloomed in my chest. The fire crashing against my ribs grew bigger, redder, until I couldn't breathe.

I need her.

No. I don't.

Clenching my fist, I forced myself to move. Barely taking in the rest of my grey surroundings, I glanced down into my palm.

326.

The number was scribed into my skin. As long as I was here, 326 would be my only identity.

And now, all I had to do was find room 326 before I erupted.

•••

This chapter was such a long time coming! I hope you guys enjoyed and don't forget to leave a vote if you did!!

Wrath and Patience grow so much as individuals in this book so bear with them <3

Love,
Laila