There are three different kinds of fear. The first, of course, is the fear that emerges when you step into the dark, when you feel someone watching you, when you hear a creak from the basement steps. There is that feeling on the back of your neck, like spiders are dancing along your skin and skeletal hands which crave your warmth. The second type of fear is the one consumed by panic. The kind of fright that kicks your legs into high gear and clouds your mind.

The third fear is when you look death straight in the eye. When your blood runs cold and your breath is short, as the icy realization of finality washes over you.

This is what Zez felt. She trembled on her knees before the woman from the manor, her breath frozen with shock and the certainty she would be killed. The woman stood in regal elegance before Zez, before everyone who stood before this manor. She brandished a silver staff, engraved with designs that matched the one of the door, and lilies that seemed to populate the entire Garden.

She was not a tall woman, but she towered over the kneeling Zez. Her gaze pierced Zez's very soul, her pink lips curving up into a bemused smirk. It was impossible to see a flaw on her dark skin, each feature carved with the utmost delicacy and haughtiest beauty. Her hair, wild and white, fell to her waist. Her gown was the same shade as her painted lips.

"Hello," the woman said, in a voice sweeter than sugar. Zez blinked.

"Hello?" she croaked in reply.

"Thank you, Maidens, for bringing this woman to me," the woman called out, raising her staff in...gratitude? "Esphina, come, we must make sure she is cared for."

As whispers erupted, the woman offered a hand down to Zez.

"I, uh, can't..." Zez shook her tied-up hands.

The woman frowned, which did nothing to scar her loveliness. She walked down the steps, behind Zez, and quickly undid the blinds. With Zez overwhelmed and frightened as could be, the woman gently helped her stand. Her bare hand agains Zez's arm made the world spin.

"I will explain everything," the woman said. In a gesture too intimate for Zez's liking, she took Zez's chin in her fingers and forced their gazes to meet. The sinking fear came back. "You are in no danger."

Behind her, Zez heard a scoff. The leader from earlier- the one who had jumped on the Fiat- glided past the woman in pink and disappeared into the manor. The fingers from her chin disappeared. She was being led beyond the double doors and into the darkness. Zez was too befuddled to reply to anything, instead just letting this woman push her along, and shuddering with pain the entire time.

One cannot be convulsing with fear and pain when stepping into Mordomus for the first time. It simply does nothing for the experience. The manor was an endless labyrinth of halls and rooms and chambers. The enormous front hall remained pitch black as they stepped inside. As soon as the silver doors swung shut behind them, flames flickered on from a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Zez stared up at the chandelier, which seemed to be made of twisted tree roots.

A grand staircase sat in the middle of the dimly lit hall, splitting off into three different directions and each level reaching higher than the last. On the very bottom step, sat the leader from earlier. Her flowered staff lay across her knees and her blue eyes narrowed. Several flowers had come loose from her braids, falling to the floor.

"Esphina," the woman in pink said. "How roughly did you treat this woman?"

The leader grimaced. "As I would treat any other intruder. She arrived in a carriage like I have never seen before, as I told you, and her hair-"

"Stop with my hair," Zez said. "And I told you, I'm lost, I don't know..."

She then realized the situation she was in. Kidnapped. Attacked. Lost, so far from home in a land of giant moons and huge hills and beautiful women, who were giving her very mixed signals about her safety.

The second kind of fear overcame Zez, crashing down in furious waves. She whipped around and bolted for the doors, as best as she could. She made it no more than three paces when she was tackled to the ground. She screamed bloody murder, as if the sound would be her savior against the stone walls, but one of them women was sitting on her sat.

"She is hysterical," the leader hissed. "This will not work, Zanya!"

"Fine," the other woman huffed. In a swish of pink and white skirts, she suddenly knelt before Zez. A little glass vial played between her fingers, glittering pale jade in the chandelier light. Her eyes softened in apology, and as Zez opened her mouth to scream again, the vial slipped between her lips.

"Mmph!" Zez protested, as some sort of honeyed liquid slid down her throat.

"I'm so very sorry," the woman said. "But you will feel better when you wake."

~

In some sense of the word, the vial contained magic. It did not make Zez grow or shrink. She did not turn into a serpent or grow horns. The sweet liquid simply sent Zez into a spiral of sleep. So what, one may ask. NyQuil does the same thing and a witch does not need to shove it down my throat.

Well, firstly, these women were not witches. Secondly, and most importantly, the medicine of your world does not take you to the Umber. The Umber is close to death, but not quite. One can escape this place, if they are quick and clever enough, and if there is starshine in their hearts.

The world of dreams bordered the land of insanity. One can think of it as countries connected by a bridge of swirling colors and crumbling stone. You never see the end of the bridge, nor its beginning. You walk and walk and walk, until suddenly you are laughing on one end. Or screaming on the other. If you drink the honeyed potion, you fall beneath the bridge.

The potion seeps into your brain. Too much of the flowery juice, and you will never wake up. Too little, and you will merely fall into temporary darkness. The right amount, the precise amount contained in that jade visual, will make one dance with all the colors and the senses. It will rattle their bones and chill their blood.

Zez knew nothing of the Umber. She knew nothing of the world these women possessed at their fingertips. Zez knew only of death in the distance, of empty skies, of fields of hands, twirling her around and around. If one is having trouble imaging such things, think of this sweet liquid as an acid trip to the Underworld.

Zez knew nothing, but swayed in time to the sand falling through an hourglass. Of swishes of white hair, of lilies and roses and tulips that bore the wrong shade, of everything that stood upon its head and lazily spun and spun.

How one wakes up is peculiar. If you drink too much, you have to fight and claw your way back. If you drink too little, someone has to smack you. If you are Zez, you wake yourself up with a snore and a shout.

"No!' Zez exclaimed, sitting upright so quickly her head spun. She dug her fingernails into soft blankets, her palms sweating something fierce. Her dreams melded with reality, everything sinking slowly into the outline of a strange bedroom. She gasped for breath, sweetness still sitting upon her tongue.

She rubbed her eyes. Her mind felt heavy, as it often does after a strange sleep. Her dreams had felt both so unreachable and yet true. She moved her fingers down to her jaw, working out tense muscles, and then realizing that all the pain had exited her body. Nothing seemed bruised or swollen. She ripped off the cloud-spun blanket and examined her calf. Nothing but two faint puncture marks remained.

Zez slowly...slowly...remembered what had happened.

Taken to a new world, she supposed. Beaten by some flowery women. Presented before their queen, she had tried to run away from the front hall, and then she was drinking something.

"They drugged me," she said, loudly. "They fucking drugged me."

She clasped a hand over her mouth, not knowing who might be listening. Zez sat in the bed and looked at the room. The moonlight seeped through the flowing white curtains, which stuck out against the stone walls. The entire room was drafty. She crossed her arms across her chest, continuing her survey.

A tapestry hung against one wall, but it was too dark for Zez to make out what the design might be. A dresser, a vanity, and the bed. Beautifully carved pieces of furniture seemed to be her only company. Zez swallowed. She did not know what awaited her.

"Cold, cold, cold," she hissed, as she swung off the huge bed and her bare feet pressed against the stone. Someone had carefully placed her shoes beside the bed, so she slipped into them and stood on shaky legs.

Zez figured she would sneak out of the manor and somehow get back to her care. What she didn't realize was that this was a terrible idea. It was impossible and improbable in many regards, the least of it being finding her way out of Mordomus. However, she had no such wisdom to guide her, and so she began her great escape.

Quiet as a mouse, she crept to the door. The doorknob shifted beneath her touch, cold as ice. She winced and realized that it wouldn't budge. She tugged harder, refusing to believe she had been locked in the room. Zez dropped to her knees and peered through the keyhole, half-expecting an eye to be peering back at her.

"Please," she groaned, tugging the knob. "This is such bullshit, come on!"

As if the door had taken pity on her, it creaked open. She jumped to her feet and dashed out of the bedroom, stepping into a long corridor. Nothing but candles and doors lined the walls. No paintings or tapestries or windows. Zez swallowed, her throat now quite dry.

Along the walls were carved sconces, twisting out in serpentine fashions. The flames of candles flickered from the tongues of the stone snakes. As she quietly wandered down the corridor, Zez noticed more and more serpent decor. The floors were carved with strange snake symbols. Vines of flowers twined around doors, practically slithering across the walls.

Zez realized that her calf didn't hurt anymore, but that the snake from earlier...it most certainly had something to do with this insanity. She came to the end of the corridor and realized it veered in two directions.

Always go to the right. Always. Even if right is wrong.

Zez went left.

"Exit," she murmured. "Where is the exit?"

The corridor she went down twisted downwards, almost in a slope, and she grabbed the wall to control her balance. She then saw the flicker of a pink tail whip around the next corner. Suddenly feeling a little woozy, Zez stumbled after the pinkness.

The corner turned and Zez was not alone.

In the middle of the new corridor, stood two little boys, identical in almost every way. They could be no older than six and they were dressed completely in white pajamas, which covered them from collar to foot. Their hair matched their outfits, but their eyes were huge and dark. They tilted their heads, in opposite directions.

The one on the right held a pink snake, the creature twisting happily in his arms.

"Nope," Zez said. "No thank you."

Zez turned on her heel and with fear pounding through her head, planned to run as fast as she could.

"Wait!" a soft voice called out.

So soft...so innocent...that she stupidly turned around. Zez had seen enough horror movies to know she was acting like an idiot, but fear certainly does strange things to a person's intelligence. Zez faced the little identical boys.

"You are new here," the one without the snake said. They walked in unison towards her.

"Yep," Zez laughed nervously. "Uh, goodbye."

"No," the boy said. "Hello comes first."

His twin nodded, letting the snake crawl over his arms. Zez bit her lip, wondering if she could run forward and just knock them over, like bowling pins. That would throw them off and she would be able to get away.

"We weren't supposed to be awake," the boy said. "But we saw through the window. We saw you. And we have never seen someone new!"

The twin nudged him, pointing to her hair.

"Do you want to play with us?" the little boy asked, excitedly. "Or...or we could take you to see Rhapsody! Or we could tell you a story! Or-"

Zez relaxed, ever so slightly. They didn't seem to be horrible creatures. They just looked like little kids up past their bedtimes (which, to be truthful, they were exactly such).

"I actually have to get going," she said, gently. "Can you help me find the door?"

The talking boy just ignored her. "Why is your hair like that?"

"What?" she tugged at it. "I mean, I need-"

She realized that everyone she had seen in this land had white hair. All of the women, these two boys...it was not the style they were curious about. It was the dark color.

"Excuse me," she said politely. "But I don't even know where I am."

"Mordomus," the boy said, as if that should explain everything. "Are you hungry? I'm hungry. We ate before bed, but we didn't get any dessert, and I wanted some-"

There was a noise from somewhere else in the manor. It sounded both like footsteps and the slam of the door. The twins exchanged looks and in some silent language, decided it was time to run. They turned and bolted down the corridor, with no rhyme or reason to their pattern. They zigged and zagged, tumbling over one another, and Zez found herself running after them.

Hall after hall, spiral staircases popping up and diverting them, endless doors and arches they passed through. The boys kept disappearing and reappearing from her sight. Zez chased them, not knowing what the hell was wrong with her, and she turned one of the corners far too quickly. She collided into someone coming from the other direction.

Two hands steadied Zez's shoulder and her eyes met the gaze of her poisoner. The beautiful woman in pink, who was frowning deeply. Her hair had been pulled up, but some stray pieces fell around her cheeks. Zez's fingers twitched.

"You're awake," the woman said. Her words dripped with strange relief. The flames from the stone serpents seemed to glow brighter. "But you should not be playing games with the boys. They will drive you to madness."

Zez noticed the boys hiding behind their...mother? One looked timidly at her, while the other grinned wickedly.

"What is going on?" Zez demanded. Her fear was suddenly overcome with deep irritation that had something to do with the rumbling of her stomach. "Where am I? Who are you? What is going on? Why did you drug me?"

The woman let go of Zez and dropped into a deep bow. The boys followed suit, albeit far more clumsily.

"Forgive me," the woman said, looking up with shining eyes. "My welcome was most distasteful. I am Zanya Selstonia, mistress of the Garden of Grace. You are in my home."

"Mordomus," Zez said, dryly. "But where am I?"

"You are not of our world. There is much to explain," the woman- Zanya- quirked an eyebrow as Zez's stomach howled. "Would you care to talk over a hot meal?"

The only thought in her head was no.

The only word from her tongue was yes. 

---

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I would love to hear your thoughts!

Also, I wanted to let you know about my new side project. On Saturday (May 9th), I will be sharing the first story in my new short story, Passeggiata. This book will contain short, sweet, and just fun stories of the characters from As the Crow Flies. It's a light-hearted collection, and it will be updated whenever I have something written, but if you enjoyed the ATCF characters...this is a peek into their lives before, during, and after the adventure of 1903! 

The first story in Passeggiata will be "One Day in Paris", which is about Crow celebrating his birthday with friends and family. 

Thanks for reading,

Lev