Xilef carefully stood when Mark entered the dining hall, who was refreshed and dressed. He'd dropped off the Tear Stealer's robes at his door before coming here, having practically memorized Dark's room's location by now.

"Evening," greeted Mark pathetically, swallowing as he walked into the dining hall. His skin prickled and burned under Xilef's scrutinizing gaze, standing before the table. Xilef slowly sat back down, and Mark followed suit, each of them on the ends of the table—many feet away. Still, despite how far apart they were, it still felt close.

"Straighten yourself," said Xilef quietly, staring Mark dead in the eye. He hesitated, ears straining to hear the Evolved. When Xilef rose a brow, he hastily obeyed, straightening his posture.

"You're—kinda quiet—"

"Don't make excuses," said Xilef with a firm voice, though it was louder this time. The black voids of his eyes glimmered. "When you enter a room, you will walk in as if you own the entire mansion. You set your place above those in the room."

Mark swallowed, the idea daunting, Xilef's words pounding into his head like sharp steel.

"I am here to teach you the way of a corrupted Evolved," he said, and Mark already knew that he was talking about Antinstine and his people. "You are to value power. You are to revel in narcissism." His nose furled and his teeth bared in the slightest. "You are to bathe in a grander ego."

Mark swallowed, brows furrowing. "You guys aren't like th—"

"Silence," said Xilef. Mark quickly shut his mouth, more scared of the Aurist than Dark. Xilef's eyes motioned to the bowl of fruit before Mark's person, and he faltered, eyes following.

"Let me see you eat," said Xilef coldly. Mark glanced up, brows shooting up.

"I—"

Xilef leaned forward in his seat threateningly, his chair creaking, and Mark thickly swallowed, straightening himself and pressing himself against the back of his own chair.

What is up with this guy?

Mark quickly averted his eyes and picked up his spoon, staring down at the small bowl before him. That sour taste rose in his mouth again, his skin prickling and burning from Xilef's scrutinizing gaze.

Carefully, he scooped up a spoonful of pomegranate seeds, staring down at the fleshy, red bits. It reminded him of killing, and he clenched his fist under the table.

"Eat," said Xilef.

Mark carefully breathed out, forcing the spoonful into his mouth and chewing. He kept his gaze glued to the bowl, the tangy juice sweetening his tongue. After a long, grueling moment of silence, Mark swallowed his bite, his every motion tense and on edge. He wanted to go home.

"You get lost in your own world," said Xilef. "That is something you absolutely cannot do."

Mark's jaw tightened, and he huffed through his nose. Xilef noticed his behaviour but said nothing, enjoying the way the human's aura shifted into a redder tone.

"You must assume everyone as a predator," said Xilef. "Because they are."

Mark forced himself to make eye contact with Xilef, spine chilling as he gazed into those black pools. A wave of satisfaction rippled through Xilef as he felt the raw frustration oozing through Mark's gaze.

A feral animal hiding under the flesh of its human shell. Just waiting for the right push to be uncovered.

"When you go to Antinstine's home," said Xilef, "they will make sure to make your life a living hell."

"I assumed as much," snapped Mark, and Xilef rose a brow, smirking in the slightest. He leaned back in his chair, gazing at Mark carefully.

"Tell me what you know about Evolveds," he said.

Mark huffed through his nose, glancing away and pushing his bowl forward. "I'm not hungry," he said. "Can I go to my prison cell now?"

Xilef hummed, assessing every single one of Mark's actions. Clenched jaw, flexed arms loaded like a spring... eyes alight with fire and entire body tense. He smiled.

"Viper," he said softly, and Mark rose a brow, glancing over at Xilef. "It fits you."

"What?"

Xilef stood, walking down the expanse of the table and stopping a few chairs away from where Mark sat. He pushed aside a chair and sat on top of the table, black eyes boring into Mark, who swallowed, lapsing back into his uneasy state.

"Vipers are one of the deadliest snakes," said Xilef, voice commanding despite his quiet tone. "Always poised, at the ready... striking behind their prey without warning." He gazed up and down Mark's frame. "They symbolize transformation... rebirth."

Mark's brows furrowed. "So—so you're calling me a snake—"

Xilef chuckled at that, shaking his head. "The purpose of this dinner was to teach you some proper etiquette—how to act like an Evolved." His eyes glimmered. "But I was also told to assess you."

Mark blinked, and before he could say anything, Xilef spoke again.

"Your frustration is powerful," he said, examining Mark's constantly shifting aura. "It's the perfect front for you to equip for such a short time frame."

He leaned forward and said firmly, "Turn your fear into fuel, Mark. Let anger be the barricade to your true identity."

Mark swallowed, the words echoing in his head. Suddenly, Xilef stood.

"Fruit isn't a proper dinner," he said. "Stay here and I'll have someone prepare you a real meal."

With that, he left, leaving Mark alone in the dining hall. He stared at the other end of the table, thoughts threatening to overrun him.

I'm terrified, thought Mark, and for the rest of the night, he couldn't focus on anything.

———

Mark sat at the edge of his bed, staring out the window and fiddling with his hands. The moonlight just barely glanced across the glass, giving him enough light to see the blackness of forestry ahead.

He swallowed, something tugging in his chest.

Despite the Evolveds' "kindness," he still missed home. He still missed being able to relax in his own house, browse through his phone and get a good laugh, fall asleep on his couch...

Most of all, he missed talking to Ethan. To his friends.

Being here, in this mansion, surrounded by people who could kill him within seconds, had him at a constant edge. His stress built by the day, simmering every hour and bleeding into every second. The lack of sleep made it worse, too, and Mark could feel his limited body slowly collapsing. He'd only fallen asleep for half of the days he'd been in this godforsaken room.

And, lacing through his reminiscent thoughts were Xilef's words, which rewinded in his head like a jeering and taunting, broken record.

"Turn your fear into fuel," echoed his voice in his head. "Let anger be the barricade to your true identity."

But how long would he have to act? How long would he have to be an "Evolved?"

Mark ran his hands up into his hair, tugging the strands as his lower lip quivered.

Could he even survive for more than a day?

Mark thickly swallowed, bowing his head, eyes screwed shut. Every day, he drowned in regret. His attraction for the Tear Stealer didn't excuse the fact that he had been kidnapped, taken by powerful people, and made to do their dirty work.

In all his life as a killer, he had never once blinked at the face of Death. Killing was easy, fun, relieving... but now that he was the bait, the victim, the vulnerable prey, he realized just how terrifying Death was. He was staring straight into its jaws, and the Evolveds were only making him more fit for the end.

Mark stood, walking up to the window and staring out of it, palms pressed against the cold glass. The energy of the house fluttered under his skin, and he closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the glass.

I just want to be home, he thought, and he bit his lip to stop it from quivering, cursing to himself as tears rolled down his face.

God, just let me come back home, he cried.

The glass beneath his palms quivered, and he startled, a chill running up his spine.

"You are home," echoed a voice in his head.

Mark whirled around with wide eyes, gazing around the room in a flurry. "W-who's there?" he demanded shakily, hastily wiping the tears from his face.

He pressed his hands against the wall, and that chill ran back up his spine, and the voice returned.

"You are home," it said again.

Mark glanced over his shoulder and at his hands, heart thudding furiously in his chest. He swallowed, pressing his hand into the wall and focusing, the energy behind the house's walls growing stronger. It seemed to writhe and coil beneath his palm like a snake's skin, pulsing with enchantment.

Did... did the house just... speak to me? he thought. He swallowed, resting his forehead against the window and sighing, closing his eyes as fatigue washed over his senses. He was too tired to think anything of it.

I'm home... he repeated the words in his head.

"What utter bullshit," he said aloud. He gently hit his forehead against the window in frustration, hands dropping and hanging at his sides.

I just want to be free, he thought, eyes stinging again. Just let me out of here...

He was about to give up and collapse on the bed when the window clicked, the sound ringing out like an omen. His heart spiked into his throat, and he stared at the window, eyes blown wide.

"No—no fucking way—"

With shaking hands, he pushed the window, and it gave under his hands, swinging open. A gust of cold air rushed in, and Mark gasped, the fresh air practically knocking him off his feet.

The... the window—

Even his thoughts were too stunned to form a coherent sentence. He glanced around, heart thudding in his chest, and glanced back out the window.

Emery knows every move in the house—

His breaths came out fast, adrenaline shooting into his bloodstream.

Now—now or never—

Mark glanced once more at the door and gripped the edge, taking a deep breath before climbing out the window, practically panting. The expanse of the outdoors surrounded him, and for once, he could breathe.

No way... no way...

He turned around, staring at the open window with wide eyes and gazing into the cell that they called his room. It looked the same as when he snuck in those few weeks ago.

I'm outside... I'm outside...

Mark stepped back, open-mouthed, a smile growing on his lips as he felt the grass beneath his shoes.

"Holy shit..." He clutched his chest, breathing out like a laugh. "I'm free."

He spun with a grateful gasp, the grass rustling under his feet, the trees creaking peacefully, and the moon shining so bright and beautiful. He glanced up at it, eyes trailing up the mansion, finally examining its exterior in awe.

Despite the terrifying people living in it, it was a gorgeous mansion.

His eyes trailed up to one of the windows, warm and lit with candlelight, catching the sight of a black-clad figure. His heart spiked again, and the figure turned its attention from inside the room to the outdoors, red eyes gleaming under the moonlight. Mark realized with a jolt of terror that it was the Tear Stealer. He glanced around the trees. Over the yard. Then—

Dark met eyes with Mark.

Mark froze in place, eyes wide, and Dark's eyes widened, too.

"Fuck—"

Run, you idiot, run! RUN!

He stumbled. Sprinted. Fled into the trees. Dark's shout echoed through the air.

Run.

Branches whipped his skin. Tore through his clothes. Leaves stuck to his hair. Bramble speared his feet.

Run. Run, God, RUN!

Mark heaved for air, hands pushing past trees, pushing him forward.

They don't need me anyway, he thought frantically.

He tripped a few times. Winced, cried out, hissed.

"Why are these trees so fucking sharp?" he panted, slowing down. He clutched his arm, catching his breath, collapsing against the tree.

A searing pain struck through him at the contact, and he yelled out, clamping a hand over his mouth.

The fuck? he thought, stumbling backwards. The tree is... hot?

Mark looked down at his hands, squinting through the darkness, and found them ripped and bleeding.

His breaths staggered as a searing heat coursed up his veins like snake's venom.

HAHHA CliffhAnGER

Thank you so much for reading, my dears; tell me what you thought!

Have a wonderful day,

Kassian xoxo