Gabriel Todd braced her hands against a floor wet with her blood.

Swirling patterns stained the wood, painted in vivid red. They skirted her seated form in a circle of thorny vines. The outer edges were dry. The blood lay fresh inward, still wet where it lapped at Gabriel's toes.

The demon studied the macabre mural with sharp eyes. She staggered to her feet and turned in a slow circle, careful not to disturb the runes. Her lips stretched in a trembling smile.

It was done.

"This is it, darling," Gabriel said.

The corpse laid on the bed behind her did not answer. Gabriel's smile dimmed, then slipped from her lips completely. Her hands were gentle when they stroked through dirty blonde hair. Her fingers cradled a man's sharp jaw, traced cheeks sunken by a decade-long hunger.

"You are a fool," she said. The words were meant for the man as surely as for herself.

A knock had Gabriel snatching her hand back, as if burned. The demon glared at the door. The room was locked against outsiders, which meant that the one who had dared disturb her belonged to her own household.

Gabriel flicked her hand up, nails glinting red. A shadow slipped through the ceiling. It filled out into the shape of a man, as if poured into some invisible, human-shaped vessel. Crystal eyes regarded Gabriel expectantly.

"Who is it that seeks entry?" Gabriel asked.

The shadow-guard's crystal eyes melted into its body. They reappeared a short moment later, blinking into being like stars in the night sky. Laurent, Gabriel heard.

Laurent Duvall oversaw the administration of the Todd estate. Gabriel would wager that the man had come carrying a stack of documents for Gabriel's perusal, hopelessly hoping to instill some sense of responsibility into his wayward lord. Gabriel admired Laurent's perseverance, and marveled at his loyalty. Gabriel would have long turned traitor in Laurent's place, out of sheer spite if nothing else.

"Send him away, then return to me," Gabriel sighed.

The shadow-guard flickered out of existence. Gabriel sat down, legs numb. Her back rested against the dead man's side. His flesh was like stone, solid and unmovable. Gabriel leaned against him and closed her eyes.

The shadow-guard returned. It waited for Gabriel's orders with starved focus. Gabriel's mouth twisted with barely-contained disgust. She swallowed the urge to banish the creature from sight, knowing it to be illogical and rooted in trauma. Reason did little to still the shaking of her hands. The demon clenched them into fists, smearing blood over her palms.

"You will go to Advisor Xiang. You will tell him this, precisely as I word it: The House of Todd is in your care."

The shadow-guard sent his silent agreement. It sidled closer when Gabriel beckoned it forward, as fluid as a wave lapping over a shore. Gabriel extended her hand.

"A heart," she demanded.

The shadow-guard plucked out one of its eyes and silently handed it over. Gabriel cradled the cold gem. It had once belonged to one of Gabriel's ancestors, and now served to ensure the safety of the Todd lineage. Gabriel's blood seeped into the stone. It spread through the crystal like quicksilver, dying it a vibrant red.

"You will give Advisor Xiang this, as well," Gabriel commanded.

The shadow-guard accepted the stained gem and fit it in next to its pair. When it looked back at Gabriel, it did so with mismatched eyes.

"Go," Gabriel said.

The shadow-guard thinned to smoke. Gabriel exhaled in minute relief. Xiang Yi would receive her missive within the hour. The man would arrive at Gabriel's doorsteps in far shorter a time.

Gabriel planned to be long gone by then.

The demon laid her hand against the dead man's chest. Her fingers came to rest over his heart, slender digits curving to frame the gleaming hilt of a golden blade.

"Only a few drops, old friend," Gabriel murmured. "I know you do not have much to spare."

She dug her nails into the wound. Blood welled up sluggishly and wet her fingertips.

The room swam before Gabriel's eyes. Magic warmed the floor, carried through the lines of her blood in surging currents. Gabriel painted the final symbol at the circle's center. Her hand was steady. The ground shook with increasing vigor.

Gabriel had a moment to grab the dead man's arm, a breath to feel the world shift and twist around her.

Time rippled and turned. A world above, a red-haired woman appeared in a pile of rubble.

Gabriel trapped a pained scream behind clenched teeth. She blinked the black spots out of her vision. A good look around had her blinking again, then rubbing blood-crusted fingers over her eyes. The burned remains of Beaufort Manor did not change shape to a more palatable location. Gabriel turned to glare at the body sprawled behind her.

"This is your doing, is it not?" she asked.

Iavor Beaufort gave no answer. Dead men rarely did, although Gabriel felt rather strongly that a vampire ought to be an exception. She rolled her eyes and staggered to her feet. A blast of cold wind made her aware of her own rather pitiable state. She tried to will clothing into existence, and doubled over with a pained groan. Her power was severely depleted. The fact that she was able to arrive in a physical body was already as good as Gabriel could have hoped, naked or otherwise.

Gabriel's eyes cut to Iavor. The vampire had made it through the transportation array in his entirety, dusty suit and all. He belonged to the world Above and as such did not need to change shape upon his return. Dragging the vampire into Hel without stripping him from his flesh and bones had been an ordeal and a half. Gabriel had managed, naturally. The old fool had quite the debt to repay. Gabriel planned to collect with interest.

The vampire's clothes, she decided, would do as down payment.

Gabriel stripped Iavor of his coat. Below that was a waistcoat and a blouse with brocaded hem, both ripped and stained with blood. Gabriel's eyes dipped down to Iavor's pants, gaze considering. In the end, she decided against exposing innocent villagers to a half-naked corpse and left Iavor and his modesty in peace.

Iavor's overcoat fell just above Gabriel's knees. Gabriel fussed with the lapels, trying to arrange the fabric so it covered her bust and hips with some decency. Iavor did not stir when Gabriel pulled him up from the ground. He was a dead weight against her back, arms hanging limply over the demon's shoulders. Gabriel grunted with the exertion, bent nearly double under Iavor's weight. The hilt of the crystal dagger dug into her back.

"If you choose this precise moment to wake up, I will find a way to kill you for good," Gabriel hissed.

Iavor remained silent. Gabriel blew out an exasperated breath and picked her way out of the Manor's corpse. She set down the mountain with slow, careful steps.

In the distance, smoke curved up into the sky as Elsendorf slowly woke up.

***

Simon Whitead was not accustomed to sitting on his knees.

He was not alone in his predicament. Seven men and women were in similar or worse state, heads bent or pressed to the floor entirely. Lord Whitead kept his own head up. His eyes were on the woman in black who stood at the Court's heart. His breathing was even. The mad thumping of his heart proved more difficult to control.

The monster was still. The black veil that covered her upper body gleamed under the light. It melted into the skirts of her dress seamlessly, the fabric viscous, like tar. Shadows trembled across the room to the rhythm of the monster's breaths.

The Court's doors parted open. Lord Whitead watched Lady Kiku enter, an hour late. His irritation was tempered by the sight of her pale face. The blood that covered her hands had him sitting up in alarm.

Lady Kiku bowed. "Apologies for making you wait, Your Highness."

The monster was silent. Lady Kiku advanced slowly. She knelt next to Lord Whitead, moving stiffly. Lord Whitead glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, then forces his gaze back to the front.

"Let us begin," he said, the words an offer rather than the order they would have been in front of anyone else.

The monster strode towards them. Her steps were silent. Darkness billowed around her, accentuating the ripple of her skirts. Lord Whitead and Lady Kiku rose to their feet. The men and women in the room remain as they were.

Darkness rose suddenly, smothering the candles. Lady Kiku shivered. Lord Whitead clenched his teeth and kept from reaching for her hand. The ritual would pass quickly once it began.

Lady Kiku raised her hands, palms up. The monster towered over her. She bowed her head by increments – then paused, just shy of touching Lady Kiku's skin.

"Whose blood?"

The voice was low and rough. It filled Lord Whitead's ears and pulled an answer out from him and Lady Kiku both.

"I do not know," Lord Whitead said.

"A prisoner's," Lady Kiku answered.

The monster regarded them, her gaze impossibly heavy. Lord Whitead forced himself to keep breathing. Sweat gathered at the back of his neck and left him cold.

"The land runs red," the monster rasped, "Too many deaths. They must rebuild."

Lord Whitead swallowed. "They will," he said.

"Forgetting pain does not heal its source," the monster continued.

Lord Whitead's blood ran cold. Lady Kiku stiffened beside him, visibly perturbed by the unprecedented deviance in their interaction with the woman in black. He grabbed her wrist and held tight. It was imperative that she remained calm.

"It is much too soon," he said. "Humans are weak creatures. We need time to adjust, time to heal. The memory of the war will infect the wounds many still carry."

It was an old argument, first made over ten years prior. Lord Whitead did not believe the woman in dark recalled the passage of time.

The monster was silent for a long time. Lord Whitead's limbs grew numb. The darkness was thick, and became alarmingly akin dirt piled atop a coffin with every passing moment.

"Yes," the monster said at length.

Lord Whitead breathed a little easier. "Shall we resume?" he asked, as confidently as if there had been no interruption at all.

The monster did not answer, but completed her downward arc and pressed her forehead to Lady Kiku's palms. Lady Kiku closed her eyes. The strain in her face was terrible to behold as she channeled the monster's magic. She bit her lips to blood. Her throat worked around smothered screams. Lord Whitead did not look away. He would not turn from his friend's pain.

The room dimmed further. Magic pulsed from the monster and shook the building, running through land and water to spread in a dark web that spanned the entirety of Samodevia. It leeched warmth from every human body in its folds. Memories dimmed and smudged, losing their shape. Monsters and wars and magic turned to dreams, half-remembered fairytales. Humanity carried on, unaware of what they had lost.

The woman in black withdrew. Lady Kiku's hands dropped limply at her sides, her body shaking from head to toe. Lord Whitead interlaced their fingers. Her hand was corpse-cold in his. He watched the monster make her way through the Court to the empty throne. The mirror behind that hung behind it gaped hollow, like an empty eye socket.

The monster paused. Her voice filled the room like the clang of a knell.

"Something is wrong with the souls in this room. Something is dead in them. Fix it, before –"

The monster fell silent. She stood where she was a moment longer, then stepped through the mirror and disappeared.

Seven Zero soldiers lifted their heads as one, as if tugged up by string. They turned blank eyes to Lord Whitead. Lord Whitead waved a hand, brows low in thought. The Zero gathered themselves up. Lord Whitead waited for the Court's doors to close behind them before turning to address Lady Kiku.

"What happened, Michiko?"

Lady Kiku sank to her knees. Lord Whitead followed her down, alarmed. He pressed a hand to her forehead, the other under her jaw. Her skin was burning. The harried thump of her pulse had him exhaling sharply.

"The demon," Lady Kiku breathed.

"He shouldn't be able to reach this far," Lord Whitead said, surprised.

Lady Kiku shook her head and leaned into Lord Whitead's hands. Lord Whitead pulled her into his arms.

"Likely waiting on the boy to die," he mused.

Lady Kiku did not reply. Lord Whitead lowered his head to see her face, but she turned away to hide against his chest.

"Richard saw me," she said, her voice muffled. "I lost track of time and went to your office instead of coming here. He asked about the blood. I believe he will press the issue."

"That is of no concern," Lord Whitead said.

Lady Kiku looked at him. Her eyes were wet and wide with surprise. "Truly?"

"I did not mean to keep this from Richard and Sabine as long as I did. You know that," Lord Whitead said.

Lady Kiku rose to her feet, Lord Whitead still close at her side. She turned her eyes to the mirror through which the monster had disappeared.

"She is waking up," Lady Kiku said softly.

Lord Whitead did not reply. "Was the ritual successful?" he asked instead.

Lady Kiku nodded. Lord Whitead closed his eyes briefly in relief.

"Then we have time yet," he said.

Lady Kiku nodded again. She bid Lord Whitead a quiet goodnight, taking another furtive glance at the empty mirror as she went.

Lord Whitead watched her depart. His eyes were sharp, his chest heavy with the knowledge of coming sorrow.