#demon!v

Yet consciousness still lingers as you’re left blind and disoriented, the fire being a persistent guide that tugs you along within the dark mist. When you resist the pull, willing yourself to remain in the blissful silence, it jerks you further, leaving no time to fight back until the darkness is ripped away and light encapsulates you. The aching in your arms is increasing tenfold, specifically in your left shoulder and you can’t escape the burning sensation that continues to only get worse. And with that pain comes loud voices that echo in your head.

“She’s losing a lot of blood so it’s making it hard to see exactly where the bullet is,” someone explains. “Move your hand for a moment,” they say.

The weight on your shoulder is removed, but then fingers prod at your shoulder and you flinch away. Nails put pressure around the center of your pain and you struggle, but someone holds your legs along with your right arm down.

“You’re okay, little dove,” V reassures, gently rubbing your uninjured arm.

Thankfully, the poking stops, though you can’t stop fidgeting as the throbbing continues in your arm. The slab of concrete you’re lying on digs harshly against your bones. Drops of sweat accumulate across your skin, the room smothering you in heat as you shift uncomfortably, the fabric of your dress becoming more stifling and you wish you could rip it off.

“What do you need?” You hear V ask, his voice gruff and tense.

“Keep pressure on her wound,” the voice commands. “It didn’t hit her major artery, but we need to move quickly. Can you get her dress off?”

“I got it,” Lhaine says, letting go of your legs and walking around to your torso.

V slips his arms under you, one going behind your head and the other beneath your shoulder to keep it secure. He slowly rolls you to your right side, your cheek resting against his forearm while Lhaine rushes to undo the ribbons at your back. You whimper, the throbbing in your arm being all you can focus on, though your head grows hazy while something warm trails across your chest and pools onto the slab.

“Shh, it’s alright,” V whispers to you, his hand brushing your hair back.

When she finishes, your bare back meets the concrete and the dress is yanked off with ease. Cold air encapsulates your body, a shudder running along you at the sudden change in temperature though relief is short-lived as the fire quickly consumes you with sweat continuing to form.

“How’re we doing this?” Lhaine asks, her voice more high-pitched than usual. It’s the first time you’ve heard her speak without her normal confidence.

How bad is it? Curiosity helps turn your head to the side, only to be rolled back, but not before catching a glimpse at the raw, gaping wound. V’s dark chocolate eyes meet yours while keeping his hand against the left side of your neck. “Admire your battle wounds after they’ve been dressed.” Though he feigns reassurance with his joke, the bloody sight representing your shoulder has you blanketed in fear.

“I’m going to get the bullet out, but I need to find the proper equipment,” the other voice explains. Multiple objects rustle and clang near your head and you moan, wanting to get away, but it’s impossible with the hands holding you down. “When I insert the tube, we’re going to roll her, and it should drain out. Lhaine, bring that bucket over here.”

She releases your legs, then metal scraps against stone as she drags it over before returning to hold your lower limbs. A plastic bag is ripped open and your breathing accelerates into panting, wishing you could just pass out again so you’re not conscious for what’s about to happen next.

“Be ready,” the voice warns, and the arms keeping you still tense in preparation.

When they uncover your wound it’s immediately replaced by something thick that prods at the hole in your arm. You groan, jerking away as you kick out.

“Shit,” you hear Lhaine grunt when your knee clocks the side of her head. She repositions her grasp, firmly holding your legs down yet her heated palms slide against your sweaty skin so she climbs onto the table with you.

“Keep her still,” they order, pressing hard on your shoulder and continuing to push the tube into your wound.

You scream, writhing as it slides further into your arm. A burst of adrenaline laced with fear has you yanking your legs back and Lhaine briefly loses her grip before a kick from your foot knocks her off balance. V uses his arm to keep you still while she curses and tries getting back up, using his other hand to press against your torso, his warm palm heating your bare skin. Turning your head to the side, you will your eyes to open despite the perspiration that stings them. Through your blurry vision, you see the plastic tube sticking out from your shoulder and you roughly reach out to grab it, but then you’re stopped by V’s hand latching onto your wrist with a firm grasp.

At that point, Lhaine hoists herself up and sits directly on top of your pelvis, earning a glare from the person fiddling with the tube. “I’ll get off when we roll her,” she answers before muttering to herself, wiping sweat off her forehead. “Might as well be sitting in Daemon’s armpit it’s so fucking hot in here.”

“Yes, blame the heat for why an injured human got a good hit in,” the person hums in return.

V pays neither of them any attention, keeping his focus only on you. He reassures you that you’re going to be fine, but you can’t concentrate on his words, seeing only the thing in your arm that you want out. Letting go of your wrist, he cups your jaw and urges you to look at him. “Focus on breathing,” he tells you. Trying to do as he says, it’s hard to control, your lungs desperate for oxygen and you feel on the verge of hyperventilation. “Think only about that. We’re taking care of everything else.”

The tube is pushed in some more and you wonder if they’re going to end up impaling you with it. When you grimace, V winces, watching you forlornly and glances at the one working on you. “How much longer, Kala?”

“Nearly there. . .” It slides further inside, the plastic scraping torn muscle and causing your shoulder to burn in agony. “It’s in. Roll her, but keep her weight off her arm.”

Lhaine scrambles off, moving to the side so they can turn you with V holding your neck and torso while she lifts your hips. The change in position causes your blood to drain from the tube, thick liquid pouring into the metal bucket. You gasp, your breaths becoming more panicked at how much comes out.

“You’re doing well, just keep concentrating on your breathing,” V encourages, his fingers stroking the side of your neck while his thumb caresses your cheek.

“It’s almost done,” Lhaine reassures, rubbing your legs soothingly.

Their soft assurances are enough for you to stay still, forcing your brain to remain in control of your body. A few seconds later there’s a soft splash as something falls into the bucket. “We got it,” Kala says, pressing her thumb over the end of the tube to stop the bleeding. “Roll her back, so I can finish disinfecting.”

You moan, head lolling to the side as you lie back and Kala examines your shoulder. Lhaine coughs once and then another time, rubbing her nose into her arm. Inhaling deeply, she coughs a third time and it’s followed by a low hiss. “Do you smell that?”

The others sniff the air, Kala pausing from her work. As you pull in ragged breaths, you can’t smell anything besides the acrid sting of your blood.

“Is that what I think it is?” V asks, his teeth gritting harshly.

Kala crouches to look inside the bucket before picking it up and nodding. “Yes, it is,” she sighs. A sudden gust of wind sweeps across the room, knocking a few bottles on their side at the counter.  “Easy, Your Highness.”

V’s wings are swept wide like black curtains covering the macabre scene of your operation. “What if there’s still some more in her?”

“She’s fine. The bullet didn’t shatter and there’s no shrapnel inside,” Kala reassures him. “We’ll deal with it after her wound is cleaned and dressed. I don’t want it to get infected.” Having settled them, she grabs a bottle and uncaps it.

A stinging liquid douses your open wound and you cry out, struggling to no avail as they keep you still. V keeps whispering soothing words into your ear, but the scalding fire in your arm keeps you from noticing anything else. And then it stops, relief washing over you as your body goes limp.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” he croons though there’s an edge to his voice, his grip tightening around you.

“Let me dress it and we’ll be finished,” Kala says. “I’ll deal with it right after.”

Exhaustion seeps through you as your body weakens. The next thing you know, V is sliding his arms beneath you and lifting you up. Your head slumps against his chest, void of any strength as you’re carried away, leaving behind the blood and horror from tonight while consciousness fades into oblivion.

                                                                ~*~

Trickling water draws you from unconsciousness and you hear gentle humming nearby. Someone rubs a warm rag against the skin of your arms, being mindful of your injury before draping it across your forehead. Quiet footsteps pad closer and fingers press into the side of your neck for a moment.

“Pulse is steady now that the fever seems to have gone,” Kala murmurs. “I’m cleaning the wound again, so watch her for me.” She walks away, sifting through some drawers before returning to sit down beside you.

Hands slip under your torso while she removes the pillow from beneath your arm before it’s replaced by a towel as you’re lowered back down. She unwraps the gauze from your shoulder, briefly examining your wound and then pouring a splash of liquid onto it. It’s initially cold yet quickly consumed by a heat that turns boiling for a split second, causing you to twitch. You sense Kala momentarily jerk back before putting the liquid away so she can dry you.

She pats your arm while another person rubs your hand. “Afraid of getting hit too?” V snickers from beside you.

You hear Kala snort. “I’ve treated children far more feistier, Your Highness. According to Lhaine, she just got lucky,” she laughs softly. Her fingers prod around your shoulder and then she wraps new gauze around you. Removing her supplies, V lifts you again so she can slide the pillow back underneath.  “Has your father said anything on the matter?”

“Not yet. He’s asking the guards now about the incident.” You hear him struggle for words before he eventually sighs in resignation. “Someone actually brought a blessed weapon here.”

“Yes,” Kala answers. “That bullet had holy water residue. Since she’s human it has no other effects on her. I’m taking the proper measures to dispose of it.”

V inhales deeply and rubs the side of his face. “Is there a way to study it without any issue?”

“Absolutely not, Your Highness,” she admonishes. “Even those with strong experience are at risk of poisoning themselves at any given moment.”

“We need to know where it came from otherwise everyone here is at risk. As I’m one of the likely targets, it should be my responsibility to examine it.”

“Regardless, it will just put you and your family in more danger. With all due respect Your Highness, I will go ahead and examine it to aid in the investigation, especially since only the four of us know.” A sink is turned on briefly as she washes her hands. “In the meantime, will you be lying low until this is resolved?”

V lets out a quiet laugh. “I think you know me well enough to know the answer to that,” he states.

“You’re right. Even if it would be in your best interest, though perhaps not just for you.”

“She has nothing to do with this.”

“That might’ve been true at one point, but maybe not anymore. Not after she saved you from an assassination. Isn’t she the one you happened upon in the forest out of nowhere?” She wonders.

“Yes, caught in the crossfire of two rival soul feeders.” His words are clipped and there’s a spark of annoyance within.

She sighs and there’s a rustle of movement. “Come now, I don’t see her as a traitor. Let’s step outside, so we don’t disturb her.” V stands and you hear their footsteps fade. “Even if the attack wasn’t for you, something could be after her instead.”

It’s the last thing you hear her say as the door quietly opens and shuts before silence envelopes the room. You lie there for a few minutes, letting your thoughts swarm with questions until sleep overcomes you once more.

                                                                ~*~

The next time you emerge from unconsciousness it’s due to the same sound of trickling water. Only now there’s a wet rag being taken across your body. The room is warm enough that you just barely feel the cool air. You hear the cloth dipped another time into the bowl before you’re given one more brief scrub and then the person tosses it into the sink where it makes a dull thud. They dry your body with a towel, lifting your head to carefully slip a gown over it, another pair of hands helping your arms through the sleeves until they can slowly work it down to cover you. Only when you’re situated do they stand to remove the bowl of water and towels.

“I believe the caregiving tasks suit you,” Kala murmurs.

“Shut up,” Lhaine scoffs below her breath. “Another day and she’d stink of rotting food,” she whispers.

“It’s only been a few days. Your nose is too sensitive. Speaking of delightful food, do you want me to bring you something for lunch?” Kala asks, passing by Lhaine to head to the door.

Lhaine grunts before sharply hissing, “don’t pull my hair,” earning a shh from the other woman. “And yes, some meat would be nice,” she adds.

Kala opens the door only to stop short. “Oh, it seems someone beat me to it. Good day, sir.”

“Good day, Ms. Kala. Pleasure to see you,” a man greets in return.

Beside you, Lhaine groans to herself. “Damn it, not you.” When the door shuts she lets out a huff. “What do you want, asshole?” She asks.

Through squinted eyes you peek and catch a glimpse of black hair coming around the partition at the door.

“Come now, surely you can be nicer than that, Ungoldil,” Jin scolds.

“Since when have you cared about formalities? Besides, I thought you liked my sharp tongue,” she mocks.

“And I thought you liked your hair pulled, but maybe just in our case.”

“Fuck off!”

Her sudden increase in volume causes you to involuntarily flinch and Jin’s eyes catch your own. He tsks. “Now, now, you’ve woken your friend with your shouting.”

Lhaine turns to you, cheeks flushed as she clamps her mouth shut for a second. “You’re awake,” she says once she finds her voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shake your head, feeling awkward at having been caught inadvertently eavesdropping. “It’s okay,” you reassure her, your words rough from your throat being dry. “I can just go back to sleep.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Lhaine hurriedly answers while getting to her feet. “He was just leaving anyway.” She strides around your cot to Jin and grabs the tray of food from him, only for him to keep a tight hold on it.

“Actually I was coming to collect something, but a trade works too,” he says. Raising his right hand up to her, he wiggles his fingers at her though the fourth one is missing.

She stares at it, mouth partially open until she closes it and shrugs. “Well it’s certainly not here.”

“I think you might have taken it, whether by accident or on purpose, I’m not sure.”

“Why would I want your stupid finger?” She wonders, nose crinkling as her upper lip curls. “Besides if you think I have it, then just go get it.”

He pauses and looks as though he’s contemplating something while he stares for a moment. “Wherever it is, it’s not warm anymore,” he pointedly notes.

Her hands clasp hard around the sides of the tray, lips pinched together. “Leave,” she finally insists.  

“I want my finger back.”

“Here’s a finger for you,” she replies, flipping her middle finger at him. “Now go, Y/N needs to rest.”  

Jin glances over at you before sighing. “We’ll talk later,” he tells her, letting go of the tray and opening the door to let himself out.

“No, we won’t,” she retorts in a lighthearted tone as she slams the door in his face with a sweet smile. Lhaine comes over to sit back down with you and sets the platter on the table. Helping you sit up, she props another thick pillow behind you, fluffing the one under your arm. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I think.” Your voice is still scratchy and you clear your throat. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine, now that you’re okay,” she admits, fetching a glass of water which she helps you drink. After you finish about half the glass she sets it on the nightstand. “You sure had a night to remember I’m sure.”

You nod. “Yeah. . .don’t think I’ll be forgetting that anytime soon.” Observing your shoulder, you see the white gauze peeking through the fabric of the plum colored nightgown. “How long have I been out?”

“A good three, maybe four days or so. You had a small fever that kept you out of it, but your injury seems to be healing well I think, though I’m not the physician here,” she laughs to herself, pushing her hair back with her hand.

Sitting up further, you lean in close. “What happened to your face?” You ask upon noticing the purplish bruise above her cheekbone.

Lhaine quickly pulls her hair back down, hiding her face except for one of her red eyes that peers sheepishly at you. “It’s from that night,” she explains, “you managed to get a quick hit in when we were helping you. Not that I blame you. It’s nothing really.”

“Wow,” you exhale, “I’m sorry,” you say though she shakes her head. You can barely recall brief images, but mostly just remember the burning sensation that encapsulated you.

To the left, past the small row of cots you see the concrete slab where you were laid out not too long ago. Now that you’re awake and coherent, you can actually take in the space of the infirmary. Above the operating table hangs a round fluorescent surgical light that’s fixated to the ceiling. Medical carts are scattered about the space, packed to the brim with bottles, syringes and other equipment. On the opposite side of the room, is a glass door that leads out onto a small balcony. Next to it, sits a heavy stone bookshelf that’s built into the wall beside the countertop and cabinets. The shelf is lined with books of various sizes with some being held in place by vibrantly colored geodes as well as the occasional potted plant that range in green, purple, or red.

“It doesn’t even feel real,” you admit, lifting your hand to rub your eyes of leftover sleep.

She sniffs. “Yeah, you’re telling me. No one ever scores a free hit with me.”

You slap the air in front of her with your good arm and she leans away. “I was talking about the night in general.”

“Yeah,” she huffs, “I know. I’m just trying to distract you, and me,” she lightly adds at the end. She looks toward the medicinal cabinets and chews on her lip.

With your same good arm, you reach out and rest your palm on the back of her hand. She tenses beneath you before putting her other hand on top, rubbing yours in return. Heaving a sigh, she turns back to you, mouth quirking up on one side in a partial smile. “You actually had us a bit worried there for a minute. I mean, not that we don’t trust in Kala’s skills, she’s the absolute best, we just weren’t expecting anything like that to happen.”

“You weren’t expecting anything crazy on Hallow’s Evening?” You ask with mild disbelief.

“Well no,” she starts, “I mean there’s always that thought in the back of everyone’s mind at some point because it’s a big event and something’s bound to go wrong, but that was pretty entertaining. When we were getting dressed, I was actually looking forward to it.” There’s a pause as she hesitates, momentarily thinking over her words. “Since you’ve been here, things have been a lot more entertaining.”

Lhaine abruptly looks up, misty eyes meeting yours through strands of hair. “Sometimes I forget that we’re supposed to be rotting away in this nightmare of a plane.” She inhales and starts talking fast. “And then when you got shot you were cold, ice cold for what felt like a good minute and I know we were all sweating, but at one point the thought of you dying crossed my mind and it hurt. Not that I’d blame you for leaving in any way, shape or form because there’s so many better places besides being stuck here yet I didn’t want you to leave like that,” her words trail off, the film in her eyes tremble and you scoot closer to her, being mindful of your injury and she backs away. “Hey, no I’m fine, stop moving, you idiot,” she protests until you successfully throw an arm around her shoulders.

Beneath your hold, you feel her frame quiver slightly before she wraps her arms around you. In the silence, you feel her rapid breathing continue for another minute then eventually settle into a steady pace. “You’re a good friend, Lhaine,” you whisper. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Her warm breath fans your back as she sighs, “You’re welcome.” Giving you a tight squeeze she releases you, leaning back in her chair and reaches for the silver tray. “You hungry? Stupid question because I know I am so I’m sure you are too,” she says, lifting the dome to reveal a thick, circular cutlet of meat with green vegetables and a bread roll. The scent wafts around you both and is instantly met by each of your growling stomachs. “Oh fuck yes,” she crows. “This is the good shit.” She grabs the utensils and begins cutting the meat, stealing a small piece for herself as she pops it in her mouth. Chewing slowly, her head falls back slightly while she savors it. “Haven’t had this in a long time,” she hums. Wiping her mouth, she pushes the platter to you, gesturing for you to dig in. “Sorry, I just really wanted a taste. Eat as much as you want.”

“We can share, it’s your meal too,” you insist. “Also when did you used to eat this?” You wonder.

She hesitates just as the door opens and a woman steps inside carrying her own plate of food. The azure chiffon dress she wears stops just below her knees, thin sleeves wrapped around her biceps leave the dark brown skin of her shoulders and arms exposed. Her pressed raven black hair sits low at her shoulders, locks twisting into ringlets at the end.  Kala slows her walk as she sees the two of you huddled together. “Ah, it’s good to see you awake, Ms. Y/N. Unfortunate that our first meeting had to be under such awful circumstances. How are you feeling?” She asks, going to set her food down before walking up to the side of your cot. “May I?” She motions to your shoulder and you nod, gently lifting it up for her to examine.

“I’m okay, just sore and a little tired,” you tell her, catching Lhaine in your peripherals tossing another small piece of meat into her mouth and quietly chewing.

“That’s expected. You’ll be feeling like this for about a month though with rest you’ll be able to move better in a few days,” she informs you, leaning down to carefully touch your shoulder. “As for eating, you should be fine, but take it easy. Too much at first will make you sick,” she warns, standing upright. Glancing at the food she cocks her head to the side. “Spiced amlug? I’m surprised he remembered your favorite, Lhaine.” Kala goes to her desk and sits down, opening a large book to read while ignoring the seething glower Lhaine sends in her direction.

“Your favorite?”

Lhaine rolls her eyes. “He probably just has a good memory, that's all,” she merely answers.

“That’s all?” You repeat.

She regards you with a dead stare before reaching for a chunk of meat and shoving it in your mouth. “We were a thing for a while. Hooked up and fucked one Hallow’s Evening, then just kept seeing each other.” She takes a piece of meat for herself, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. “We stayed like that for some time until he moved on and I got too comfortable,” she spits, tearing the roll of bread in half and taking a bite.

“Do you still like him?” You ask, picking up a fork to stab some of the vegetables and eating them. “Also didn’t his hair used to be pink?”

Muttering under her breath, Lhaine responds with, “He shattered later on that night after the party and his hair color changes each time he does. And no,” she says curtly. “I used to like him, but now I’m done.”

Kala clears her throat, mumbling something under her breath and you barely make out the words, “but is he done?”

Lhaine clenches the roll between her fingers, nails crushing the soft food.

“Throw that bread at me and I’ll cut your hair off,” Kala warns, her body tensing as she grabs a scalpel off the medical cart.

“Seriously, who throws bread?” Lhaine yells incredulously. “Obviously, the best choice of weapons are the knife and fork at the very least. Shit, even the tray is better than a piece of dough.”

“We’re not throwing anything,” you tell her, patting her shoulder. “Let’s just eat. We won’t talk about men.”

“Yeah, you just don’t want to be interrogated either,” Lhaine mutters and you flick some vegetables at her before you both quietly eat your meal.

                                                                ~*~

Later in the evening after Lhaine leaves to finish the remainder of her chores as well as yours, with your insistence to help being met by strict orders to not even leave the infirmary, Kala examines your wound beneath the candlelight. The gaping hole is still raw, but it’s slowly beginning to scar over with tissue. You try not to stare for too long, not needing an inside look at your body and everything else inside. As she gently washes the wound out with a wet rag, you inadvertently wince each time the fabric tugs at the torn skin. “Looks like it’s healing well,” she notes, prodding at the bullet hole and tenderly feeling around the mark.

“That’s good,” you say, keeping your focus on the sketch of some constellation that hangs on the wall. “When do you think I’ll be able to get back to work?”

Cold gel is rubbed against the wound and you’re met with a burning pain that flashes for a second before becoming cool once more. “Full recovery takes about a month, but even then I wouldn’t recommend any heavy lifting for quite some time. You’re going to be feeling it for a while.”

When she lets go of your arm, you carefully shrug it and moan at the twinge of pain. “I believe it.”

“I can recommend some exercises to help loosen the muscles that’ll help get functionality back.” She rewraps the gauze around your shoulder, clamping the pieces together. “You’re not bleeding anymore so that’s promising,” she tells you, standing to go rinse her hands.

You nod, readjusting your propped position amongst the pillows. “I imagine I looked much worse in the beginning.”

Kala shuts the water off and dries her hands, setting the towel over the rim of the sink. “When they brought you in you were practically in death’s clutches.” She glances at the door suddenly, looking back at you as she starts walking towards it. “I guess they decided to let you go,” she adds, pulling the door open though the partition blocks your view even as you try and peek around it.

“How is she?” You hear someone ask.

“Ask her yourself,” Kala replies, shutting the door behind them.

V comes inside and pauses when he sees you sitting upright. “You’re awake,” he says, eyes wide for a moment until he relaxes and walks toward you.

“Before you ask Your Highness, yes I did let you know as ordered, but you weren’t awake and simply mumbled incoherent nonsense before falling back asleep,” Kala explains as she steps by him to go sit at her desk.

“I was?” The prince asks, rubbing the dark spots below his eyes and you notice his hair is slightly unkempt as though he were just waking from said nap. “I don’t even remember. Regardless, thank you, Ms. Kala.”

“Of course, Your Highness. Her wound is also healing well, she just needs rest,” is her quick reassurance as she opens her book and begins reading, taking a sip from her drink while also scribbling something into her notebook.

He sighs, tension visibly leaving his body. “I’m glad to hear that.” Using the chair Kala was in earlier, he repositions it before sitting down on the cushioned seat. “And you’re doing okay?” He asks, regarding you carefully.

You nod. “Yeah, just a little tired.”

“I imagine so,” he agrees, his eyes slipping shut before reopening as he meets your own. “Y/N, I’m so sorry you had to experience something like that,” he apologizes, his face contorting with grief and you’re quick to reassure him.

Shrugging with your good arm, you say, “It’s fine really. It’s not your fault someone brought a gun and decided to use it.”

Your words are met with an awkward silence as V pauses while Kala shifts in her seat, her gaze fixated on the pages. He rubs his hands together, pursing his lips. “Actually they were more than likely aiming for me.”

“No. . .” you start, but cut yourself off, remembering exactly how the events unfolded in sequence.

He catches the hesitation in your voice. “That’s why you pushed me out of the way.”

“I saw the reflection of the light and didn’t even stop to think, I just ran,” you admit.

V reaches out to hold your hand and rests your palm in his, his thumb caressing the back. “You could’ve been killed,” he murmurs softly.

“Technically you could say that about most of my encounters,” you point out with a small laugh.

It only causes him to sigh in return. “You’re not wrong. And while I’m eternally grateful, you shouldn’t have to risk your life for mine.”

“And you shouldn’t have to worry about being murdered by someone,” you refute.

“It comes with my particular circumstances.”

“Well it shouldn’t,” you insist with a huff. You go to cross your arms yet stop short at the annoying ache in your shoulder so you opt to simply fold your good arm over your torso, gripping onto the opposite bicep. “And you can’t just ascend now?” You ask, vaguely remembering him mentioning it during one of your previous conversations.

He barks a laugh at that, smiling to himself with a shake of his head before his expression sobers. “Little dove, I’m afraid it’s not so easy. I have to be of a certain age, which I’m close to, but still not quite there yet. There’s also specific accomplishments and training that I have to complete as well. It goes for any demon that can ascend. All this to ensure we’re truly prepared for immortality. And in my case, the joys of royalty.”

“It’s very archaic,” Kala pipes in and V tilts his head, pursing his lips but doesn’t deny it.

Your fingers press against the sides of your forehead before you tiredly rest against the palm of your hand. “So if you didn’t survive being shot, then what, it’s just your fault?” You scoff. “That’s stupid.”

That earns you another quirk of his lips while Kala lets out a giggle to which she quickly muffles with her hand though she doesn’t stop. “Can you be the one to convince my mother of that? Maybe she’ll finally let me ascend and then convince the Queen to do the same for you,” she tells the prince.

He looks over his shoulder at her where she scribbles something down on her paper. “I would be incredibly surprised if we managed to do that. Even so, my father wouldn’t approve in the slightest. He’s much too intent on keeping with tradition.”

“Even if it meant protecting you from harm?”

As soon as you utter the question, there’s an immediate shift in the room as uncomfortable silence  heavily swells inside, growing with each passing second. V pauses as though contemplating your words while you worriedly glance at Kala who hesitates, tapping her nails together. She grabs her pencil and notebook before getting to her feet. “I’m going to head outside and record more of my notes,” she says, gesturing towards the balcony and slides the door open to walk out into the night air. The cool breeze seeps into the room before being cut off by the closing door.

“I’m sorry,” you hurriedly apologize, “I didn’t mean to sound so disrespectful.”

V shakes his head, his hand still holding yours as he uses his thumb to caress along your skin. “It’s alright, I understand what you meant. My father does care for me even if he doesn’t show it often. In his mind, if I can succeed with my own trials while surviving these attacks, then others will see it as futile to even try. Even after ascending, I’ll have shown that I won’t easily be undermined. Meaning my parents can finally rest peacefully without constantly fearing for my safety. I know that’s all they want in the end.”

“As any loving parent would. I know I’m still not familiar with how things are here but I think I can see how it makes sense.”

“There’s a reason why we uphold these customs. My family just has it more difficult, unfortunately,” he answers with a somber shrug of his shoulders.

“Not for too much longer because you’ll be victorious,” you assure.

Your insistence has him rolling his eyes at your choice of words. “I appreciate the confidence, little dove,” he chuckles before it’s cut off by a sudden yawn, causing you to inadvertently follow suit as exhaustion pries open your mouth. “Of course, I think my savior deserves some sleep after saving my life, don’t you think?” He wonders, readjusting in his seat.

Your lips quirk up at his humor. “I would’ve done it again.”

“And for that I truly thank you for that selfless act of bravery,” he answers sincerely, the lighthearted humor vanishing as he meets your eyes intently. Despite the exhaustion that’s currently weighing him down, there’s clarity in his words. The hand still atop yours flexes but the grip doesn’t tighten against you, instead almost forming a barrier around your limb.

“You’re welcome,” you softly murmur, struck by his honesty. “But if there’s anything else I can do to help, I’ll do whatever I can. I want to catch this person too.”

He shakes his head. “Take some time to rest then and gather your strength first.”

“Okay,” you sigh, “I will. But I’ll have to return to work soon. I don’t like that Lhaine has to manage both of our chores and besides I’m sure Miss doesn’t want me gone for too long.” She could be logging an entire list of tasks to keep you busy for an eternity for all you know.

“Miss will get over it,” he dismisses, noticing your skeptic look before insisting, “she will. Other humans have had to stop working in the past before, so she knows it’s a possibility.”

“Yeah, because they all got turned into mannequins or something worse.”

V grimaces. “Those were special instances.”

“At least my near-death experience was a little more normal,” you shrug, wincing at the pain flaring in your shoulder.

He smooths his thumb across your hand. “I wouldn’t exactly say normal.”

That has you tilting your head slightly. “Are assassination attempts not the norm around here?”

“Not in the comforts of our home, no,” he admits. “It’s usually when we’re out in public, or so I’ve heard.”

“Maybe this’ll be the last time for a while,” you say in an attempt to sound hopeful though it comes across as more desperate than anything.

Regardless, he still smiles wanly at you. “Your optimism is remarkable.”

“You gotta start somewhere,” you say before being cut off by another incessant yawn.

He gently releases your hand and sets it down on the mattress. “I should let you sleep. Though you’re probably missing your new bed I assume.”

“Actually, I think this one is just about as comfortable if not more than the one in my room.” While the basic cot’s mattress isn’t exactly as supportive, it’s at least fluffy enough that you don’t feel as though you’re sleeping on harsh springs somewhat hidden beneath a solid pallet. It’s a step up compared to the ones in the servant’s quarters for sure.

V raises his brows skeptically. “You lie,” he mocks.

His response has you cocking your head to the side. “Oh, yeah? Have you slept in this bed?”

“It’s been some time since I’ve had to spend the night recovering in the infirmary and while I know these cots are meant to be comfortable, nothing can compare to the other beds we so kindly provide.”

“Well they’ve been upgraded since then,” you say, slamming your fist into the mattress.

Immediately, you wince upon feeling the sharp pinch in your poor shoulder, earning a hiss from V. “Easy, you silly human,” he demands, holding a hand against your back near your shoulder blade. “Is this honestly a result of your sleep deprivation?”

“Could ask the same about you,” you retort, motioning to his tired eyes which causes them to fill with amusement.

He briefly stands before silently urging you to scooch over while he sits down beside you. Leaning back against the headboard, he lets his head rest on the stone wall. “Your persistence knows no bounds. Yes, this is relaxing, but my bed is much better without a doubt.”

“Now who’s lying?” You mutter, laying your own head back as well. “If this one was a bit bigger, then your fancy bed wouldn’t stand a chance.”

V laughs silently, his frame shaking next to you while he crosses both his arms and legs. “You’re ridiculous,” he mumbles beneath his breath.

A calming hush fills the room as the two of you quietly relish in the serene space. While your body slowly unwinds, there’s a sudden weight on top of your head that has you jumping slightly. “Your Highness?”

He responds with a gentle hum.

“You might want to get to your own bed before you fall for this one,” you suggest, though your own eyelids are also becoming heavy.

“That’s just the result of my exhaustion. I’ll leave in five minutes or you can just shove me off now.”

You nudge him softly in return. “Whatever,” is the best you can come up with at the moment. The tug of sleep draws you further close to it as you ease your own head onto his shoulder. Five minutes is tempting to your body as you let yourself rest your eyes as well only to fall into a heavenly slumber.

                                                                ~*~

The next few days you remain in the infirmary along with Kala though Lhaine and V are typical visitors.  At one point Lhaine even brought you a note from someone unexpected. The small paper had only four words reading, Get some rest -Miss. In between these brief visits, Kala oversees your improvements by cleaning and checking your wound while also giving you simple exercises to do in the meantime.

Tonight though, you’re visited by someone else. “Good evening, sir,” Kala greets from her position at her desk with her usual reading material. While holding your arm at a ninety degree angle for your stretching sessions, you look to find Min standing by the partition near the entrance.

“Hello,” he answers. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” His signature black fabric covers his eyes yet he walks with a surety, seeming to know exactly where all the furniture is as he easily steps around it.

“Not at all, please come in and have a seat.”

He turns his head and walks forward, deftly maneuvering his way around while using his fingers to graze against the simple wooden chairs. As he sits down in the seat beside you, you slide your legs over the edge so you can face him better.

“How are you, sir?” You ask.

Tilting his head, he stares directly where you are, giving you a sweet smile.  “I’m alright, and you?”

“Better,” you admit.

“I’m glad to hear that. You’ve had quite the ordeal I imagine.”

“It was. . .eventful.”

Min chuckles at that though there’s no humor behind it. “That’s an understatement. Haven’t had such a thing like that in over a decade I believe.” There’s a bout of silence and then Min clears his throat. “Actually, besides seeing how you were obviously, the reason I’m here is because Jeon wanted me to give you something.” He retrieves a folded paper from his pocket and hands it to you. “He thought of delivering it himself, but didn’t want to take any risks.”

You take the paper and unfold it, revealing another strange drawing. This one consists of a 3-D rectangular box with a smaller one at the front and a square off to the side though no lines meet at the bottom. The sheet is colored with black scratches that cover the entire area though most of it is darkened in the center.

“I understand. Tell him thank you for the drawing,” you say, staring at the various lines and shapes on the page.

He lets out a faint laugh before asking, “Is it just as confusing as the previous one?”

You smile in return. “I think there’s more lines than before, but I’ll have to compare them. What have your visions been like if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Dark,” is all he says. Through the fabric of the blindfold, you see him clench his eyes shut, faint creases appearing along his forehead. “And I don’t mean figuratively. Anything I try to focus on is covered in a fog and it’s hard to see. It’s all just blurry shadows and incredibly frustrating,” he sighs, running a hand through his blond hair.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Don’t be. It’s not an issue, but hopefully it passes quickly. I don’t like feeling lost any more than my visions already make me,” he admits with a short jerk of his head.

“I can only imagine. And there’s nothing you can do except wait?”

His fingers tap the sides of the chair as he slightly nods. “Pretty much. It’s most likely showing me something that’s currently happening, which if it is, then I just have to wait until it’s resolved.”

Hesitating, you examine the paper again, eying the simple lines of the drawing dubiously. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I know you and Jeon can’t interfere with each other’s abilities, but from past experiences, what does he usually draw in his pictures? What do they end up representing?” Even if he can’t say much, any idea would be helpful when you’re dealing with such vague symbolisms. Unless the answer is obvious, then you really should brush up on your sleuthing skills.

His lips pinch together as he contemplates your question. “It’s hard to say because there’s such a variety at times. I’ve seen images of people, creatures, places, and things. It’s rare that there’s any details or distinguishing features, but I think it’s mostly specific objects from what I can tell.”

“Well his clues are interesting for sure,” you admit, looking down at the sketch once more.

“Yes, they are, though if you ever get the chance, I recommend viewing his personal art, the ones he draws for enjoyment. They’re extraordinary and very detailed.” He grins wholeheartedly at that, a fondness on his face you haven’t seen as strongly before.

“He’s an artist?”

Min hums in response. “He likes doing it in his spare time, that is, when RM has time to spare and isn’t meeting with people. It gives him an outlet from all the abstract images the future bestows upon him.”

The sheet crinkles in your hands as you continue fiddling with the edges. “It must be hard on him too,” you softly note.

He gives a forlorn smile. “All of our powers are considered gifts, rewards granted to us for being lucky or something along those lines.”

“So we’re told,” Kala pipes in, snorting lightly under her breath which causes him to laugh at that.

Running a hand through his hair, he notes, “You’re not wrong there.”

Your eyes shift between the two of them. “Why do you say that?”

Min rubs the back of his neck while Kala ducks her head, using her fist to cover her grin before eventually answering. “It’s just everyone’s pretty old fashioned and needs to get over themselves. Like we talked about the other day, everything’s archaic.” She acknowledges your blank expression by simply shaking her head. “It’s nothing, we’re just venting.”

“Shh, they might consider that complaining,” Min chuckles before cocking his head to the side. “I should probably go since it’s getting late,” he says, standing up.

You glance over at the clock and see it’s just past 10:00. It’s been easy for you to lose track of time since staying here.

“It was good to see you, sir,” Kala says from her seat.

“Same to the both of you. Have a good night.”

You respond with a farewell of your own before it’s just you and Kala. She gets to her feet and heads over to the bookshelf, retrieving another book then returns to her desk that already has plenty more sprawled across. Figuring you might as well do the same, you grab your book about demons that Lhaine had thankfully brought you. Entertainment is important, she had insisted. You also stare at Jeon’s drawings from time to time until your eyes eventually glaze over and cause the shapes to morph into unidentifiable masses. If there’s a connection between the demon haunting your sister and his drawings, finding it feels damn near impossible.

“You’re not going to bed?” Kala asks, not bothering to look up from her own reading. “Or is it just too lonely over there?”

“What? No!” You yelp before letting out a groan. After falling asleep with V, you had woken up by yourself on your side with the covers pulled up high. Kala had merely asked if you slept well yet the obvious undertone couldn’t be missed. Rubbing the circles beneath your eyes, you shake your head at her with a sleepy grin. “I was just doing some light reading,” you answer. “Will you be going to bed soon?”

She shrugs. “Eventually. Maybe after the next chapter or two.”

“What are you reading, some medical textbook?” You wonder, catching a glimpse of some diagrams as she turns the page.

“What, no!” She scoffs. “I’m not reading any of that boring stuff.”

Your brows furrow at that, eyeing the various multicolored tonics and remedies lining the medicine cabinet, a couple you had actually seen her craft in her spare time. “Aren’t you the physician here?”

This causes her to actually look up at you. “What do you mean, oh,” she says, realization dawning on her face, “I get it. I know that’s what they call me around here since that’s technically my position, but it’s temporary.”

“Temporary?”

“Mmhm. Seriously, if you want the family’s physician that would be my mother,” she laughs, propping her head on her hand as she taps the side of her face with her nails. “We came to an agreement that if I practiced here for some time as her replacement, then I’d be free to do as I pleased afterwards.”

“You don’t want to be a physician?”

Kala shrugs. “It’s not for me. Don’t get me wrong,” she reassures, “I like helping others and it’s a great skill to have but there are so many other things out there I’d rather be doing, you know?”

Standing up from your bed, you walk towards her and climb onto the stool next to hers. Now that you’re closer, you can see the book she’s reading seems to be about space, judging from the various diagrams of constellations. “So you like astronomy?”

“Yeah, consider it a passion of mine. And you?” She asks, gesturing to your book over by the bed.

“Oh, that’s. . .research,” you answer.

“Research?” She wonders. “Are you a scientist?”

You shake your head with a laugh, waving your hand in disregard. “No way! That’s not my strong suit at all. I mean space is cool, but I just like to look at the stars mostly.”

She leans close, tapping the pages of her book. “So you can truly see the stars in your world.” Kala bites the inside of her cheek as you nod. “Can’t deny that I’m envious. You live in a place with beautiful sights and yet you’re down here because,” she trails off, her brows quirking together.

You lean your elbows on the desk. “Something attached itself to my sister back home and I’m trying to figure out what it is.”

She blinks, her face reflecting her confusion. “Don’t you have specialists that know how to fix that? Or can at least help?”

“It’s not that simple,” you sigh, “especially if they don’t know anything about it.”

“So your bright idea was to come all the way to Hell and fix it yourself?”

You roll your eyes. “That wasn’t the plan. I didn’t know the person offering help was a literal demon and I was almost tricked into signing a contract with him. I know I’m desperate but I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”

“And yet your main goal is to still find a cure for her, which might as well if you’re stuck here regardless. That’s quite the determination,” she notes.

“Of course, I’d do anything for her,” is your immediate response.  

She breaths a hiss of air in through her teeth. “I’d be careful who you say that to,” she warns, “people won’t be so trusting of you.”

“What, why? She’s my sister.”

Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she readjusts in her seat. “Family ties aren’t always that deep. Besides, showing such dedication will draw the wrong attention. How far are you willing to go for one person and who would you take out in the process?”

Scoffing under your breath, you look around the quiet space. Your reflection in the medicine cabinets attached to the stone wall reflects back your confused expression. “But I wouldn’t do that.”

“Are you sure? When people get desperate, nothing’s too far for them.”

You turn and meet her brown eyes, specks of amber giving a faint glow beneath the light in the room while she calmly regards you. “Wait,” you start, “you don’t think I had anything to do with what happened that night, do you?” You breathe the last syllables out in a quiet exhale.

Her fingers play with the ends of her hair, twirling the strands at the end as she lightly shoves your stool with her foot. “No. I haven’t known you long enough but I don’t think you’d do something like this. Yet some will see it as suspicious that you were there at the right place, right time.”

People aren’t seriously going to suspect you of being an assassin’s accomplice, right? Yet you could think of a certain trio that would probably relish in your downfall. As if you need any more headaches. “I literally got shot. Isn’t me taking a bullet for someone, the Prince no less, counterintuitive if I was plotting something?”

She grimaces, continuing to tug the strands of her raven hair. “No, because you’re not the first, not even close.”

Her response has you shifting in your seat. “What do you mean? How many times has this happened to him?”

“Oh, not just him. I think this might’ve been the first one where they got close to almost killing him but with the others, it was more frequent and usually when they were young.”

Your body tenses in realization. “The others, his siblings,” you murmur softly.

She gives a slight nod, shutting her book and pushing it aside. “While my mother was a physician here she helped the Queen a lot. Apparently, she had trouble conceiving at first. My mother tried everything, elixirs, remedies, spells, even ancient rituals, anything she could think of,” she sighs. “Once the Queen carried to term, they thought it was over. But even though the baby was born healthy, they suddenly became ill and passed in a matter of days. And it never stopped.”

Kala crosses her arms over each other, resting her elbows on the concrete table. “They hardly ever made it past infancy. It frustrated my mother so much that she couldn’t help no matter what she did. She scoured every tome that seemed promising and eventually she created a strengthening potion that worked. They became stronger, some even growing into adulthood only to die before they could ascend. It was only then that the family realized they were being targeted, not cursed like most believed. The King massacred all the servants except for a very small handful,” she takes a deep breath, her hands flexing into fists before continuing, “they spared mother because of her progress. They brought in new servants; it didn’t work. Nothing has.” She looks away, focusing on the blank wall beside her.

“And there’s nothing anyone can do?”

She shrugs. “They’ve tried. At first, I heard the family tried keeping them from the public eye, but no one’s going to take well being cooped up in their own home like a cage. My mother said the son was found just inside the Crooked Forest with missing limbs and organs,” she answers softly.

You inhale sharply, grimacing at her description and rub your own arms. “And they still continued to die,” you whisper.

She gives a curt nod. “Every single one. It’s been over a decade since I’ve worked here and V is the only Prince I’ve met. He’s apparently one of the few to make it to adulthood. Not just that but like he mentioned earlier, he’s relatively close to ascending.”

Again, there’s that term you keep hearing, even though you hardly know much about it. “What does it mean to ascend exactly? It’s obviously important.”

“Besides the fact that demons can become truly immortal? It means a demon will have obtained their abilities to the fullest extent. Lesser demons can’t ascend, but to those with immense strength or gifts, especially if they have royal blood, it’s a great achievement.”

“Do you also have incredible strength or a gift too?”

She nods, her body slightly relaxing as she lets go of her arms. “Yes, I have the ability to see all the veins in the body.” You watch as her eyes begin glowing, the flecks of amber sparkling a bright gold that spreads across her irises. “That’s how I could find the bullet and see how much damage was done. My mother can do the same, but she can also see fractures in bone and tears in muscles,” she explains, her irises dulling before returning to their usual color.

You blink a few times, staring in surprise before asking, “But you’re not able to ascend yet?”

She rolls her eyes with a shake of her head and an irritated huff blows past her lips. “Nope, not quite. Mother says I need more time and practice first. And the thing with ascensions is no one ascends at the same age or time, it varies for multiple reasons. When your guardians or mentors think you’ve made great progress, then you have your fancy ceremony and congratulations, you’re immortal,” she sarcastically rejoices with a wave of her arms before dropping them back down on the hard stone.

“Which means nothing can harm you at that point, right? You’ve essentially won if you’re impossible to kill,” you assume.

“For the most part,” she says. “But take my mother for instance, if she were to ‘die,’” she flexes her fingers into quotations, “she could be reborn back into how she was before her death and still be herself. If someone hasn’t ascended, then once they’re dead they can’t return. Their essence or soul, spirit, take your pick, is gone. It would be like they never existed at all.”

“Wouldn’t their soul have to go somewhere?”

“No. Our essence basically dissipates, our existence forever ceased, leaving nothing but a husk of a body. If that’s not destroyed either.”

Scratching your nails along the tabletop, you bite into the inside of your cheek. “Why would someone want to ensure the family never carries on? Why them specifically?”

Again, she shrugs. “To destroy the lineage and prevent them from ever passing the crown on or to kill the entire bloodline eventually. As for your second question, maybe someone has a personal vendetta against them, I don’t know. Or there could be no reason at all, torment and suffering makes enjoyable entertainment for some.”

“And the prince has to wait just like you,” you state.

Kala nods, her lips lifting up into a faint smile yet there’s no humor in her eyes, only annoyance. “Apparently so, which is probably why he’s constantly reading and studying about politics. Since there’s been no talk of any coronation or ceremony, the family believed he’d be protected until then perhaps. The King and Queen want to ensure his safety until the time is right. But since Hallow’s Evening, that’s changed.” She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, hunching her shoulders forward. “They don’t deserve this madness.”

“No, they don’t,” you agree. The scratching of your fingernails increases in speed as you process this information. “And no one has noticed a pattern or any link associated with the other children?”

“That’s the issue,” she sighs, “their deaths vary significantly every time. Different age, different time, different method. There’s no pattern, no evidence left behind, nothing. And they never tell any of the children how their siblings have died for fear of the unknown. Not that it mattered because my mother said it was a new way every time, like some sick curse.”

When a tiny chunk of cobble is chipped away by your nails, you quickly dust it off though you catch her smirk, to which you grimace with a small apology. “But you said I’m not the first. What happened before?”

“Again I hear all this from my mother because she was here when this happened. But there was one daughter, who became close friends with a Lesser demon that worked in the stables. They became close after he saved her from a Cindersnitch. A creature that essentially poisons you only that poison feels like lava and can burn through you until you’re nothing but a charred crisp in less than an hour,” she quickly explains before you can ask. “But not long after, she was killed.”

“He killed her?”

“No, but his involvement led to her death. He was working with someone, but I guess he actually developed a bond with her. Granted they weren’t quite adults, so he may have been heavily intimidated or influenced by that person.”

“What happened to him?” You ask, though you’re pretty sure you can guess the answer.

“He was executed. They never found the assassin.”

You release a soft breath, fingers still scratching against the desk before meeting her eyes. “I’m honestly not working with anyone, I’m just trying to get back home,” you insist.

She warmly smiles. “I believe you, but things are starting to happen again now that you’re here. It’s been relatively quiet until your sudden arrival. Even if you’re not directly involved there’s something going on. And his infatuation with you might get you both in trouble. Just know that you could be the prime suspect in the next incident. And I don’t say that by me,” she reassures with a hand on your arm, effectively pausing your fingernail scraping. “The rest of the castle will be watching, especially those that have seen it happen before.”

You look at her incredulously. “I’m sorry but did you say infatuation?”

Kala blankly stares at you. “That’s what catches your attention?” She asks, laughing slightly. “Look I’ve seen him more times in this infirmary these past few days than I have since I’ve been here for the last decade. We can argue about romantic feelings or not, but you can’t deny that he does care for you.”

Definitely not wrong there. “He’s been very nice to me, so yeah, you could say we’re friends,” you admit though you’re not sure why you’re hesitating. V has been nothing but kind to you and has even helped with some of your research. Why should it matter what others think of your relationship? It’s not their business. Except it does when status is seen in such high regards. Everyone has their place here and humans are meant to be at the bottom. Certainly not supposed to be friends with a royal family of demons.

She shrugs. “Well at least you can see that much. Anyway, I’m probably going to head off to sleep. And you should too, you already look like you’re about to pass out,” Kala notes, indicating to your tired frame that’s slowly becoming heavy.

“You’re right, we probably should,” you say, getting to your feet and walking towards your bed before climbing in while she puts her things away. “Good night, Kala.”

She bids you good night as well and you’re already drifting off to sleep as soon as your head meets the pillow.

                                                                ~*~

Though the prince refuses to send you back to work, you still accompany Lhaine under the guise of keeping her company, but still there are some tasks you help with, so long as it doesn’t require heavy lifting. Except for sneaking cans of food down to the dungeon though you use your uninjured arm instead to carry the bucket down the steps.

Upon entering, you notice no one is as eager for food compared to other times you’ve delivered it. Then again, there’s not as many people present once you count only half a dozen bodies, less than half from before, remaining. Most are hidden in the shadows and you barely see their hunched or curled forms, some close together while others stay far apart. Hakyeon is among the few left, not even bothering to spare you a glance, keeping his head trained low. Only when you whisper his name does he look up from his propped position, revealing thin scratches and dark bruises lined across his face.

“I’m afraid we’ve already had our fill for the day, darling,” he says, eyes void of emotion.

Setting the bucket down, you lift a can and hold it out in offering. “No one told me. Consider it a light snack,” you suggest.

One of the figures in the corner leaps forward with a hiss, jagged claws nearly slicing your skin as you jump back. The short horned creature swipes again until it’s grabbed by the tail and kicked to the side, knocking back into the huddled group. There’s a scuffle as they all shove each other away, growls ensuing from the rest as they take up offensive stances.

“Quiet,” Hakyeon snarls, “before you get us all in trouble.” He reaches for the can of gruel from you and throws it to the opposite side as everyone dives for it. Stretching for another, you slide the bucket closer to him, both of you tossing the cans inside until they’re satisfied for the time being. As they settle down, the sound of cracking metal echoes around the area while they slurp up their meals.

With one can remaining, you offer it to Hakyeon, who observes it for a moment before eventually taking the metallic cylinder. He breaks it open and takes a long swig. “So what brings you here today, darling? I’m afraid I won’t be able to read to you if that’s your reason,” he says, leaning against the cell door.

“No actually, I just wanted to see how you were doing,” you explain, sitting on the ground and he does the same. “What happened to everyone?”

“Does the paint not suit my face?” He wonders, using his pinkie to flick his hair to the side. When he’s met with your dead look, he chuckles under his breath. “We’ve had some lengthy interviews with the royal family. How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine, thanks for asking,” you say, rolling the joint a couple of times with hardly any soreness. “You mean they’ve been interrogating you? For what?”

He blinks, amusement flaring in his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Surely, working must have been hard these last few days.”

“Why are they interrogating you when you’ve done nothing wrong? Also I haven’t been working.”

Hakyeon grips one of the metal bars to lean closer to you as he gives you a sly smirk. “Who’s to say I haven’t done anything wrong?” He croons with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “And I know. You’ve been cooped up in the infirmary for over a week.”

You also bring yourself forward only to narrow your eyes at him. “Stop trying to change the subject, your means of distraction are clearly not working. You’re the one who warned me something was going to happen.”

His humorous expression doesn’t change in the slightest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Things always happen during Siragar. Besides, I’m merely checking to see how you’ve been doing.”

You huff and scoot even more closer, leaning until your head is just up against the cold metal bars. “What’s going on, Hakyeon? What can’t you say?” You murmur softly.

“I can say whatever I want,” is his aloof answer.

“Then what aren’t you telling me? Do you know who the shooter is?” You basically plead, wishing he could tell you something, anything, that could be useful in figuring all this out.

His red irises, blending in with his bloodshot eyes, calmly meet yours as he stares back at you in silence, any sense of humor now gone. “I didn’t know there was a shooter.”

“Okay, so what have they been interrogating you about?”

“Everything,” he hisses, sparing a glance over to the stairwell entrance. “Look, you really shouldn’t be here. It’s not going to matter soon anyway.”

You look into the near empty cell, watching the others curl up and sleep after having finished their meal. “Have they been killing the others?” You ask, voice increasing in pitch.

“Let’s just say they won’t be coming back,” he answers darkly.

“Who ordered this to happen?”

“You’ll see for yourself soon enough. Just limit your visits in the meantime. Oh, and good luck,” he says before slinking back into his corner.

Before you can call for him, you hear the door clang open and quickly get to your feet. Lhaine peeks her head inside and finds you. “There you are. What are you doing all the way down here?”

“Food delivery,” you explain, showing her the empty bucket.

“You’re not supposed to be working, remember?” She reminds, beckoning you over. “Come on, we’re being summoned.”

“By who?”

“The family wants to talk to all the servants.”

She brings you upstairs where the kitchen is now empty. Going down the hall, she leads you to the throne room where everyone is gathered. The King, Queen, and prince are seated in their respective seats while Miss stands front and center before them. From up the stairs comes Bren with Kala and Ink, they descend quickly before getting into place along with the rest just as Rae appears with Thorn, Steel, and the floating heads.

“Everyone is accounted for, Your Majesties,” Miss informs, her back stiff as she bows low.

The King nods and stands. “Let us begin. On Hallow’s Evening, there was an assassination attempt. You will tell us everything you did and everything you know. Speak the truth only.” He jerks his head and Rae steps forward, standing just to the right of the thrones and waits. “Raelin, do you swear as Truthsayer to convey no falsehoods in all manners of speech for both yourself and those being questioned at hand?”

Rae swallows thickly, her skin pale white and face splotchy red.  “By the written accords of Sailapeth, I swear on my life to relay only the truth from both myself and the questioned parties. If no falsehoods are corrected or brought to light, then my life may be subject to forfeit.”

“Miss, you will start first. Explain what you did on Hallow’s Evening.”

Your boss recounts every place she had been and for each specific purpose in a collected manner as though she’s merely telling a story. Every question she’s asked is confirmed by Rae until they move on to the next person. It continues like this, each person speaking about what they did, who they spoke to, and what they remember before and after the gunshot.

When Dust is next she steps forward, padding slowly onto the carpet before them. Her figure trembles as she twiddles her fingers together, risking a quick glance up at the King before fixating her gaze to the ground.

“Where were you that night?”

“I was in the kitchen,” the girl starts, her voice soft to where you can just barely pick up her words from the back. “Chef needed my help with the food.” While she fiddles with her hands, she puts her right foot on top of her left.

“Truth,” says Rae.

“Did you step foot in the ballroom at all?”

“Yes,” Dust murmurs.

“What did you do?”

She moves her left foot over the other now. “I danced—”

“Speak up!” The King barks. “And quit fidgeting.”

Her shaking increases tenfold and she grips the sides of her dress, taking a few breaths. “I danced with the Queen for a little, but returned to the kitchen afterwards,” she answers with a raised voice.

“Is that where you were when you heard the shot?”

She shakes her head. “I was here, in the throne room.”

“Why?”

“I was delivering another batch of sweets, but dropped them after I heard the gunshot.” Her high-pitched voice quivers as though she’s about to burst into tears at any moment and you wish you could hold her hand or do anything to provide her some form of comfort.

The King looks to Rae and she nods. “Truth.”

“What did you see?”

“Everyone running for the exits.”

“Anything suspicious?” He’s glaring at her now, shifting his position until he’s partially leaning forward.

Dust swallows but keeps her attention fixated on the ground despite feeling the glower being directed her way. “Some fought with each other, but the Sisters directed them to the proper exits,” she says, indicating to the floating heads grouped together.

There’s a pause as he considers her words before looking at Rae and she verifies her statement. “Dismissed,” he says.

From behind him, the Queen snaps her fingers and motions to Dust, beckoning her forward. The girl bows and steps around the King, giving a wide berth until she walks quickly to the thrones to crouch beside her seat. The Queen pats her cheek before stroking the top of her head.

The King shuts his eyes briefly, sighing in annoyance once, then opens his mismatched eyes to stare at the floating heads. “Bell, you will start.”

He begins asking various questions to the floating heads, each answering accordingly until Thia is the last to go.

“Thia, you kept watch in the off-limit zones to ensure guests didn’t go wandering, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Truth.”

“And all the guests cooperated? No one was seen sneaking around?”

“Yes, everyone cooperated. One guest was found wandering lost upstairs. They thought the restrooms were near the library,” she explains.

“Truth.”

He blinks his glowing eyes at her incredulously. “And you didn’t find that suspicious? An unknown person wandering around supposedly lost?”

“They had the proper markings needed to gain entry to the party,” she stutters.

“Which were?”

“A triangle with a curved arch in the center of it.”

There’s a collective gasp from her sisters as everyone else stares at her in shock. Even the Queen and V have gone still. The King is the first to move, his brows raising at her answer.

“Lie,” Rae says.

Thia blinks, floating uncertainly in the air. “I don’t understand.”

Bell hovers unsurely before drifting slightly closer to her. “It was a crescent moon with an arrow cutting across it.”

“Yes, I remember. . .but it was changed. You told me yourself, Cara,” Thia cries, turning to look at her sister who stares back in return.

Cara slowly shakes her head, face falling in despair. “I never told you it was changed. All the other guests had the correct markings.”

“I heard you, you were there upstairs before the ball began when the rest of the guests were set to arrive.”

“No, Thia,” she whispers, “I wasn’t.”

The King growls, gaze flickering between the two of them. “What incompetence brews here? Cara, did you tell Thia about any changes in markings?”

“No,” she replies, her voice growing thick.

“Truth,” Rae says.

“I swear that’s what I was told!” Thia yells. “I know my sister’s voice, we spoke near the alcove!”

“Lie.”

At Rae’s response, the King clenches his teeth, upper lip curling into a snarl. “Disgraceful,” he growls. “Tell us all you know about this supposed guest. Distinguishing features, markings, everything.”

Thia floats unsurely, her strands of hair meeting before twisting at the ends while she anxiously thinks. “They spoke quietly and it was hard to make out their form, they could shapeshift I think. I don’t know what type of creature they were. I’m so sorry I—I don’t remember much, it was dark upstairs and we barely spoke,” she says, her voice high-pitched.

A haunting silence fills the space as no one utters a word while the King remains harshly staring. “My son was almost murdered and you can’t recall anything useful. Very well,” he states and begins walking towards her. While his tone remains calm, it doesn’t stop the hairs at the back of your neck from rising with dread. “I have all the answers I need. In an attempt to hide your role in this, you tried to frame your sister and allowed a threat into our midst.”

“I’m not lying, please!” She begs, her head bobbing frantically until her hair is snatched by the King’s fist, holding her in place.

“You’ve outlived your usefulness. Your services will not be missed.” And then he throws her to the floor before lifting a booted foot. It smashes into her head, her skull crushing as chunks of brain and flesh spray across the ground. The grey stone darkens as blood paints the area.

Cara and her sisters scream out as everyone backs away. You lean into Lhaine, who grasps onto your arm tightly. Each of the three Faegel grimace, having been closest to the scene, stepping away while Mel flicks some gore off her clothes with a sneer. Kala winces, avoiding looking directly at what’s left of Thia as she tries keeping her gaze straight ahead. Behind Chef, you see that Ink is a puddle on the floor. Across the room, Dust is huddling close into the Queen’s embrace and you see V shut his eyes, wincing when Bell lets out an anguished wail.

“Was that necessary to do now and not after questioning the rest?” The Queen loudly asks above the noise, still caressing the side of Dust’s face.

“Silence!” The King bellows, the sound echoing around the room and the sisters’ cries instantly quiet though they don’t stop. Not bothering to turn and look at the Queen he continues, “An example needed to be made and a punishment to be fulfilled on a conspirator. Or do you not care that our son’s life was threatened?”

You watch her eyes change to black, void of any color as she glowers in return. A chill engulfs the room and you shiver at the sudden temperature drop. “You of all people should know the answer to that,” she spits. The temperature drops again to the point where your shuddering breaths appear in the air only to suddenly vanish as the cold dissipates, letting the heat return. “Miss, I want that damned carpet cleaned afterwards,” she demands.

A brief tremor runs through Miss, but she collects herself and bows. “It will be done right away.”

The King ignores them, merely wiping his bloody boot on the carpet before returning to glare at the group of servants. “Where’s the boy?” Ink disappears from behind Chef and reappears with a light pop at the front. He takes a small step back from the mess and bows. “We’re now under the impression that this unknown suspect possibly came from the library,” the King starts. “Were you there the entire night?”

“Yes, but I saw no one enter or leave. I’ve also talked with the figures and examined the painting multiple times, it wasn’t broken or forced,” Ink explains in a flurry of words.

“Truth,” Rae says, her face pinched in discomfort as she does her best to remain calm despite the carnage left front and center.

“Any other evidence?”

“Just this,” Ink responds and from his body pulls a strand of blonde hair before giving it to the King. “It was found near the passageway.”

The King smells it briefly and looks up. “Care to explain yourself, Bren?” Upon hearing her name, she visibly pales, her face going a slight shade of green as she’s called forward. “You’ve been with us for many years. Did you know the secrets of that painting and use it for some hidden motive?”

Bren shakes her head.

“Say it,” he orders.

Clearing her throat, she briefly glances at Thia’s remains before answering. “I do know the secrets, I’ve heard it before unintentionally, but there’s no hidden motive.”

“Lie,” Rae answers softly.

“Did you let someone in that night? Or are you the one we’re looking for? If we search your room will we find the weapon?” The King fires in rapid succession.

At his accusations, her trembling becomes more pronounced. “No, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Truth.”

He approaches until he’s towering over her and grips her throat, lifting her into the air. “Do you know who the assassin is?”

“No!” She gasps.

Rae grunts then, clutching the sides of her head as she leans over. She’s stuck on her words, tongue unable to make any syllables. “L—l,” she begins, but seems incapable of finishing. Blood starts dripping from her nose, dropping to the ground and further coloring it. “Just tell the truth!” She groans.

“I am,” Bren strains, fingers clawing at the hand cutting off her air supply.

“I grow tired of your games,” he says. Putting her back down, he unsheathes a dagger from his hilt and positions it against her jugular while she struggles within his hold.

“No, I beg you, please!” She squawks, frantically writhing against him. Her nose grows sharper as she begins transforming, birdlike features appearing across her body.

Not again. Please, not another. You don’t stop to think twice when blood starts seeping from the cut that emerges on her skin. “She didn’t do it!” You yell.

Your sudden outburst draws the attention of everyone in the vicinity. Lhaine’s fingernails are etching deep into your skin, squeezing down to the bone of your forearm. V’s standing now, his eyes trained to his father who doesn’t move closer, only adjusting the aim of his dagger towards you. With a solid grip on Bren, he redirects his spewing rage to you. “What evidence do you have?” It’s a simple question, but his blade shines with promises of instant suffering should you answer incorrectly.

“I couldn’t see the shooter, but they were male. It happened too fast to notice anything else.”

“And you’re certain this information is factual?”

“Yes, the information is true.” You can’t feel your arm anymore, Lhaine’s grasp having cut off circulation to where the tips of your fingers are completely numb.

All eyes flit to Rae, who’s upright again and she visibly cowers from the sudden attention. Though she’s covered in sweat with blood trailing from her nose down to her lips, she wipes her face with her palms and clears her throat. “Truth,” she murmurs, shoulders heavy and without strength.

The King releases his vise-like grip on Bren and she collapses to the ground, talon fingers clutching her head as she faintly whimpers, gasping for air. “Anything else?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No, it was too dark and all I saw were shadows.”

“Truth.”

He hums, glaring at you with those menacing eyes. His upper curls as he regards you, gaze piercing directly through you before eventually returning his dagger to its hilt. “I see. In the meantime, any suspicious behavior will be reported to your superior. As for you,” he looks down at Bren still at his feet, “you will be under constant supervision by Miss or Chef. You will not leave the servants’ quarters unless you’re accompanied by either of the two. Punishment will result in you being held in the dungeon with your wings shredded. Understood?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she stutters, putting her forehead low to the ground before stumbling to her feet and stepping back into the group.

“Wretched creature,” he mutters before turning away. “Dismissed. And you three, clean up this mess at once,” he orders Cara and her sisters.

Hovering low to the ground, they use their hair to collect the remnants of Thia, picking up the scattered pieces of flesh and bone. You automatically start towards them, but are suddenly pulled away by Lhaine as everyone disperses. V’s eyes catch your own as you’re taken up the stairs, but you lose contact after turning the corner while Lhaine practically drags you to your room.

She shoves you inside, letting go and immediately slamming the door behind her. While she rests her head against the doorframe, you massage your arm as blood flow returns to your veins, the feeling of prickly pins and needles cascading across your skin. Inhaling deeply, she whips around to face you. “What was that?”

“What? I told the truth,” you scoff, shaking your arm to get rid of the tingling.

“Do you know how close you were to being executed? We were this close to wiping up both yours and the harpie’s blood off the stones,” she hisses, pinching her fingers together.

“I was careful with my words.”

Your insistence only exasperates her further as she furiously shakes her head, long hair whipping back and forth. “If he had decided to keep pressing, you would’ve lost in the end. He’s done interrogations for many centuries, you haven’t.”

“I had to say something,” you say incredulously.

“Why?”

“She was going to die! Doesn’t that bother you?” You ask, folding your arms across your waist, memories of blood and bone remaining persistent at the forefront of your mind.

Lhaine throws her hands in the air, facial expressions going through a myriad of emotions. “To be honest, not really. And no, it’s not because I dislike her.  She needs to be taken down a peg, sure, but I don’t wish her dead. I don’t think she would’ve deserved it, but she’s hiding something,” she insists, pacing across your room.

You watch her for a moment as you sit at the edge of your bed. “No one else was going to do anything.”

She huffs a laugh. “Yes, because whatever happened back there was pretty damning. Even if someone else knew something they wouldn’t say anything because no one’s willing to risk their life.”

“Bren could still be innocent.”

“So? That’s not good enough to risk your own life for.” Her feet roughly stomp against the stone and she spins around once she reaches the wall.

You watch her go from one end to the other across your room while you clutch at your sheets. “Maybe for you and everyone else, but I had to at least try.”

“Again why? For the debt she owes you now? You don’t seem like the type to collect them.”

The pacing of her feet steadily increases until she’s speed walking around your room and you snatch her arm to hold her in place, insisting that she look at you. She does so reluctantly, midnight hair nearly hiding away her red irises. “Lhaine, one innocent person was already killed and another possibly innocent one too. It would’ve been cruel and...inhumane,” you helplessly finish.

She comes forward, leaning down to gently rest her hands on your shoulders. “That’s the thing. We’re not human. You care about others, but down here; it’s considered weak and naive. We don’t just willingly sacrifice ourselves for the sake of others.”

“Would you have stood by if I were in her position?” You fire back.

She glowers at you, biting the inside of her cheek. “I would have said something, anything, to try and help you. But I care about you. I’ve talked to Thia a few times, she’s quiet and polite. You already know my stance with Bren. I don’t feel anything for them. Not enough to risk my own head. It’s selfish, Y/N, but we’re also persevering. We do what we can to survive and do things that benefit ourselves with rare exceptions of bonds or close relationships.”

“Well I’m sorry that my human qualities aren’t acceptable here, I get it,” you say, desperately flailing your hands. “We’re in fucking Hell, it’s expected. I’m not a saint by any means, but when something’s not right and someone’s life depends on it, I have to try to say or do something.”

She looks away, dropping her head briefly before groaning quietly. “First of all, don’t apologize for being human. You basically come equipped with a moral compass unlike the rest of us down here. I’m not apologizing for being a demon even though my integrity is dubious at best and humans would probably exorcise me or whatever the fuck the moment they saw me. Who knows though,” she shrugs, “maybe your goodness will rub off on this place.”

“I’m not here to fix Hell and cure all evildoing.”

“It’d be stupid if you were,” she mutters. “No, but maybe you’ll end up passing on some of those good vibes or whatever to some of us.”

You pull your leg up to prop your foot against the side of the bed. She eases into the space next to you, keeping an arm around your shoulder while you silently rest your head on her own. “Maybe so. I just don’t want to see people getting murdered. That was an interrogation, execution, and torture session all in one,” you whimper. The crunching sound of bone still ricochets in your mind even though you’re trying to force yourself to focus on the present.

Lhaine holds you closer. “I know. The royal family is protective, paranoid, and furious about what happened, so they don’t care who gets hurt as long as they’re secure in the end.”

“The assassin needs to be found before more people die,” you mutter.

She barks a laugh. “Yeah, they do. But good luck chasing after them. They’re hidden well unless they’re long gone. Just be happy we’re alive.”

At least there’s that to consider, despite how morbid it is.

                                                                 ~*~

It’s only been a couple of days or so since that horrifying interrogation. Supposedly the family has started focusing on who all was at the ball and also could fit the description Thia gave before her…execution. What she described vaguely reminds you of the shadowy figure you saw from your old room all those nights ago. But they had been taller and for all you know could have also been another servant or guard whose job is keeping watch outside and just happened to be practicing their magic. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on your part. Either way, you haven’t seen them since.

Sitting at your desk, you return to reading your book and looking at the drawings Jeon had given you. Opening the demon textbook, you unfold the artwork and examine them once more. The second one is still hard to distinguish what kind of setting it is because of the scrawling black lines, but when you tilt it beneath the light, you notice one of the rectangular shapes has something on top. The open book strikes a chord in your memory as you recognize your old bedroom in the servants’ quarters. Most of the colored areas cover the furniture, but it’s especially dark in one corner where an oddly shaped blob stands. It’s short, but the curve near the top of it resembles a person of some kind. Looking at where the head is, the light reveals three lines, two vertical and the one underneath horizontal, depicting eyes and a mouth.

Rubbing the back of your neck to get rid of the itchy sensation, you return to study the open book in the picture again and see a line drawn on the page. It’s not a decorative choice, considering it’s vertical and not horizontal. So is it the letter “i” or the number one? Could Jeon even be able to tell you? You can at least try.

You switch to his first drawing and examine it as well. No hidden figures seem to be there when putting it beneath the light, but when you trace your fingers across the back you feel indentations near the red dot. Quickly retrieving a blank sheet of paper, you use a pencil to scratch across it and reveal four sets of numbers. 9, 5, 18, 19. Again you stare at the picture, particularly focusing on the top part that’s colored in. Of course. Getting up from your seat, you snatch the papers and head out into the hallway only to be greeted by darkness. You didn’t even realize how late it had gotten, the clock in your room reading a quarter until midnight. He’s probably asleep and you don’t want to disturb him.

Just as you’re about to close your door, muffled cries sound from further down the hall. Peeking your head out, you see shadowy movement and your heart rate increases at the undulating person approaching. Before you’re about to slam the door shut, the dim light of the lamps reveal Bell’s head as she comes closer.

Her eyes are shut as she uses her long strands of hair to wipe away bloody tears. Sniffling once more, she opens her eyes and notices you in the doorframe, coming to a halt at the sight of you. “Excuse me, Ms. Y/N, I didn’t even detect your presence. I hope I didn’t disturb you,” she apologizes, quickly using more of her hair to effectively clean her face.

“No, you didn’t. I was going to go read anyway.”

“Oh. Well, I shall let you get back to your business,” she says, passing by your door to continue her rounds.

“Wait,” you tell her, reaching a hand out to somehow stop her and nearly grab a handful of her hair, awkwardly pausing as she turns to look back at you expectantly. “Do you need to talk about anything or is there any way I can help you?”

Bell does her best to replicate a calming smile, but the corners of her lips are trembling. “I’m fine, Y/N, you don’t need to worry about me,” she reassures, though there’s a quiver in her voice.

You hesitate, but don’t push further. “Okay, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I don’t mind listening.” Biting your lip, you continue, “I really am sorry for your loss,” you eventually say.

Fresh tears pool within her crimson orbs. “Your condolences are appreciated. Cara has been taking it especially hard.”

You nod, tossing your papers onto your desk before closing the door behind you. Bell cocks her head and you point behind you to the staircase. “I’m just going to get a glass of water from downstairs.”

“Please don’t assume I’m asking you for any obligations because I mentioned my sister. We’ll be alright in due time.”

“I know, but I need to go to the servants’ quarters anyway. Besides, I don’t usually get much sleep most nights.”

She nods. “I see. Then have a good rest of the night.”

“You too,” you tell her as she floats away from you and continues down the hall.

Going down the stairs, you walk to the kitchen and get a glass of water. Heading to the sink, you let out a small shriek upon finding Cara in the basin. Water splashes as she’s startled by your sudden appearance, only to relax again when she recognizes you.

“Hello, Y/N,” she greets as she settles down in place. She has a pot filled with water and is currently submerging her neck inside while her hair drapes across the counter.

“Hey, Cara,” you respond, pulling a stool up next to her. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m soaking,” she says.

“Looks comfortable,” you comment to which she nods in return. “Is that ice?”

“Yes. Figured I’d give myself a break.” A part of her hair reaches for the bowl of ice cubes and takes one, carrying it to her mouth where she eats it. The frozen cube slides around, puffing her cheeks every now and then as she sucks on it. “Were you here for some water?”

You nod and her hair reaches for your glass. You hand it to her and she turns the faucet head away from her spa setup to fill it before asking, “Would you like some?” She motions to the bowl.

“Um, sure, if that’s okay.” She uses more of her hair and they drop three cubes into your cup. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

After taking a gulp, you set your drink on the little section of the counter that doesn’t have her hair on it. “How long have you been here?”

Her hair lifts up before limply falling down in a makeshift shrug. “For the past half hour or so.”

“I’m guessing Bell doesn’t know.”

“No, not that it matters. Even if she did, what would she do? Tell on me so the King can step on my brains too?” She scoffs.

You wince at her heated words. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

She huffs and bites hard at the ice cube where it crunches loudly. “It’s not the first execution I’ve been a witness to.”

“No, but Thia,” you cringe as you prepare yourself to continue, “was your sister.”

“Not anymore,” she mutters. “And don’t feed me your hopeful condolences, I don’t want to hear it. She’s a memory, nothing more now.”

Her words strike a chord as you take in what she means. “She didn’t ascend yet, did she?”

Cara inhales, breath catching on a slight whimper as she sinks down, the water up to her chin. “No. She wasn’t even close.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, hand reaching out to touch the top of her head, hesitating as you pause there unsurely before caressing it softly. “Is there anything I can do to help, anything you need?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. Your company is more than enough.” Reaching to grasp a large handful of ice, she dumps the cubes into the pot and settles once more. You both fall into a quiet state, letting silence fill the space while you stand beside her as she continues floating in the water. Time passes as you take a sip from your glass every so often. “Tell me about your sister,” she abruptly says, causing you to jump from her sudden words while she shifts within the ice. “Please,” she quietly adds.

“Are you sure?” You hesitate. “I don’t want to accidentally upset you.”

Cara lets herself slide down until she’s lying flat and floating on the cool water. “It’s okay, I just need a distraction. I’ve accepted what happened, I’m just getting lost in my head and I don’t want to be.”

“I get it, it’s really easy to be overwhelmed by everything. And that’s okay. Just don’t keep those emotions locked in the back of your mind forever. When you’re comfortable or ready, try to make time so you can let those out before they become too much. Only when you’re ready though,” you insist and she nods, her head bobbing in her makeshift pool.

“But as for my sister, she’s funny. It’s not just her optimism that helps her cope with her illness, it’s also her sense of humor. Whenever she’d have to stay in the hospital, she’d rate the medicine they’d give her from pretty tasty I want more to awful, never again get rid of my taste buds. And she’d take it seriously too on deciding where she thought each medicine went. We even made a game of it. She’d rate the medicine and then compare it to something that tasted similar.”

“So what would the awful medicine be like?” Cara wonders.

You bite your lip as you think back to all the different ones. Each medicine she tried would somehow be worse and worse one right after the other. “Oh, there was one kind she said was way too sickly sweet, almost like artificially sweetened medicine and it apparently reminded her of fruit whiskey. So I actually went, after making her promise to stay because she insisted on sneaking out with me, and bought a small bottle of some peach whiskey, had a shot, and it wasn’t good. Maybe it was that specific type but I got an idea of what she meant,” you laugh, tongue recoiling upon remembering the overpowering alcohol that coated it.

“Would she do that a lot, sneak out?” Cara looks up at you, red eyes peering from in the water.

Clearing your throat, you scratch the side of your neck in chagrin. “Yeah, kind of. Our parents usually knew, she’d act like she had all her energy that day but we’d have to take a lot of breaks whenever we ventured out. One time she suddenly got really tired and the walk was pretty far so I rented an electric scooter, a little vehicle and rode it back home. People gave us odd looks when they saw younger me with my big sister practically slumped on top while I’m trying to drive normally. They probably thought she was drunk or hungover, which that’s how she felt in a way. Lightheaded and dizzy, but she was giggling about it the whole time.” You can’t help the smile that creeps up on your lips as you remember her trying to help steer but nearly sent you both careening into a stop sign.

“We did that too sometimes,” Cara says, breaking you free from your reminiscence, “my sisters and I. Bell didn’t always come because she insisted on keeping watch but there was one time we all went to Whimsy Waters, a pretty lake not too far from here, and we went looking for jaws. It’s a common place for jawbones to be discarded and if you find one with a severed tongue still inside, it can sing for you like a music box.” She grins while recalling the nostalgia of her memory yet you’re doing your best not to recoil, the glass in your hands shaking as you try keeping it steady. “Thia had managed to find one with a tongue and it sang so prettily. No words, just a lovely tune. She liked sneaking off to the rooftops and sing along with it, saying she’d pursue something in music after finishing her work here.”

Cara’s lip trembles as her eyes grow misty, bloody tears slipping from the corners. “She had a beautiful voice, we knew she could accomplish it. She would’ve.” A quiet sob escapes her and she cuts it off, using strands of hair to cover her mouth.

Your fingers run across the top of her head as she silently cries while you whisper soothing words to her. The two of you stay there with the melting ice bobbing in the pot as silence eventually returns to the somber atmosphere.

Eventually, she wipes away her tears and sits upright. “What time is it even?” She wonders.

A glance around the space soon has you locating the clock and checking the hands. “It’s just past one,” you inform her, and she shuts her eyes, tendrils of her hair rising to cover them. “Don’t worry, I don’t think anybody knows we’re down here anyway,” you try to reassure her. “I might head out soon though, there’s something I need to check on.”

She nods, strands of hair falling back into the water as she heaves a sigh. “I should probably go too. I’m sorry,  I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time,” she apologizes and you’re quick to assure her.

“You’re completely fine, please, I don’t mind at all. I want to be here and help if you need me.”

“Still, what’s stopping me from staying here the rest of the night?” She muses, floating within her ice bath.

“Nothing actually,” you reply, “you’re free to grieve however you need to and for however long. But maybe you can continue your patrol before morning comes just so you don’t get in trouble. I know you're in pain, it’s understandable, just please be careful,” you plead. “Even if you think it doesn’t matter, your sisters still care about you. And so do I.”

She looks up at you, briefly dwelling in her thoughts for a moment. “Thank you. You also make a fair point, we can’t support each other if we’re dead,” she sighs. “At least we don’t have to exactly be presentable when on patrol, just alert.” Lifting herself out of the water, she dumps everything from the pot, the ice cubes clattering into the sink as she puts it back in the storage closet. “Don’t worry, they don’t use that pot for food. Plus, it’s not like I pee in it or anything,” she snorts and you chuckle softly. After wringing her hair out over the sink as well, you watch how she weaves the strands with ease until they’re tied into a simple bun that sits above her head.

Leaving the kitchen, the two of you go down the hall in silence, each lost in your own thoughts that you don’t even pay attention to where you’re heading until you pause in front of the wooden door. “I don’t know why I went this way, this isn’t my room anymore.”

“Ah, that’s why I haven’t seen you in some time. Where are you staying now?”

“Upstairs in one of the guest rooms.”

She smiles. “That’s great. I’m sure it’s much nicer compared to these rooms.”

“It is,” you agree.

“Shall we head that way?” She asks, tilting her chin to point in that direction.

You shake your head. “It’s okay, I kind of want to check and see if I accidentally left anything behind anyway.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.” She pauses, floating unsurely in the air. “I’m also grateful for the time you’ve spent with me tonight.”

“Me too, Cara. I enjoy talking with you,” you smile at her. She leaves and you watch her until she disappears around the corner before turning back to the door.

Taking a breath, you carefully open it and peek inside. The room is pitch black, curtains blocking all light from outside. You keep a close eye on the corner where you once thought you saw a shadowy figure as you go sit on the bed. Nothing happens while you listen and observe your surroundings, not a noise of any kind either inside or out. As if this room is truly empty. With each passing minute, you feel yourself relax and you try standing, but your legs refuse to move. A chill rushes through your body as you’re suddenly filled with exhaustion and as if by instinct you curl up into your former bed to lie down. The silence only eases your mind further while you become encapsulated by sleep.

When you wake, you find yourself in a much comfier position and you roll over, touching the silk sheets that cover your body. You rub your eyes and sit up, recognizing the purple décor of your room. The last thing you remember is lying down in the old one, but you must’ve gotten up to come back at some point. Getting to your feet, you stumble against the nightstand as you struggle to maintain balance. Stretching your body, you shake away the static sensation that layers above your skin and wait for your blood to circulate more before starting your morning.

After having showered and dressed, you fetch some breakfast for yourself and gather your things from last night, taking them to the library. Opening the door, you step inside and find yourself a table to set your things on. You scan the room for the blobbed figure, but he’s not on the ground floor and when you look up you see him hanging from one of the upper shelves, green mist wafting around him and the high rafters above.

Ink disappears and, despite hearing the distinct pop, you still jump when he suddenly stands in front of you. “You’re staring, what do you want?”

“Could you do me a favor?”

“Depends on the favor,” he scoffs.

“I need help finding a book.” He glances around the room and grabs a random book from the shelf beside him, holding it up to you. “Funny, but that’s not what I mean,” you say. It takes you a second to rifle through the sheets of paper until you hand him the note with the numbers. “Can you go to the ninth row and fifth column up there?” You ask, pointing to the bookshelf across from where he was earlier.

His white eyes blink up at you. “You do know you actually can’t read those, right? Maybe try some spooky bedtime stories from the children’s section instead,” he suggests, jerking his chin to the opposite end of the library.

“I think I have enough nightmares to last me a lifetime, but thanks for the recommendation,” you dryly answer.

Giving you another look, he shrugs and pops away. “Suit yourself,” you hear from above as he lands on the second floor and climbs up the shelves. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when you start scratching at your eyes and make them bleed.” Scaling sideways, he counts each book until finding the one you need and then he jumps down, dissolving before he hits the ground abruptly reappearing in front of you. He tosses the book and you catch it, wincing when the weight causes your shoulder to twinge in protest. “Oops, sorry. Forgot about your injury. Are you still recovering?”

Hoisting the large tome on top of the table, you lean down to check the drawings again. “I’m fine and yes, us humans aren’t that durable. Actually, I was hoping you could help me with reading it.”

“Look I’m not that sorry,” he says, turning around and walking to a cart with books haphazardly scattered across.

“I only need two pages.” Or so you hope, you think to yourself as you follow after him.

Waving you off with a flick of his hand, he mutters, “I’m busy.”

“Please?” You beg, standing beside the cart as his eyes scan across a paper full of notes, a catalog of some sort. “Maybe I can give you something in return.”

“Your hand?” He wonders.

Even though you know he’s being sarcastic, you instinctively pull your hand closer to yourself. “Preferably none of my body parts.”

Ink sighs loudly as he grabs a book and shoves it into an empty slot on the bookcase. “I didn’t mean permanently. Help me put these books on the shelf while I clear space and I’ll tell you what’s there.”

“Deal.”

At least you can tell Kala you got some decent exercise in today. Thankfully, the books aren’t that big and you use your uninjured arm to do most of the work. When you’re done, you both go sit down and he thumbs through the pages until stopping at the one you need.

Ink tilts the book away so you can’t see anything, but you think you catch a picture from your peripherals, resisting the urge to look. “So this book that you need for some reason is about elixirs and potions. The strong stuff that not anyone can just get.”

“What’s the name of that one?” You ask, pencil poised above your notes and ready to begin writing.

“Belegur, a potion used for curing possessions.”

Your pencil freezes in the middle of writing the name as you look up at him. “Curing possessions?” You breathe.

His face scrunches in confusion at your surprise. “Yeah, what are you possessed or something?”

Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. “No, it’s for someone else. What else does it say?”

He looks down to scan the page and then looks up. “There’s a description followed by a recipe and instructions.”

Your pencil taps the paper, tiny dots of granite decorating the sheet. “Can you start from the top?”

He shuts the book, marking the page with his finger in between. “Uh, that wasn’t part of our deal. You want more, then I want something in return.”

“Fine, what do you want?” You ask impatiently.

“I want something sweet from the kitchen,” he says.

“Sure thing, but I want this first.” You point your pencil at the book.

He eyes you dubiously before eventually sighing dramatically. “Fine. Just know that I’ll make you read this book from beginning to end until your eyes turn to pulp if you don’t keep your end of the bargain,” he threatens.

“I’ll take your word for it,” you laugh whilst rolling your eyes, knowing he’s probably at least half serious. You snatch the pencil and begin scribbling down his words in a flurry.

Combine all ingredients at once. Need to be mixed thoroughly in a boiling vessel. Once complete, the possessed subject must consume the entire potion and the creature will be purged.

-500mL of Blood from Enactor

-Tears of Remorse

-Dew Petals from Corpse Blossom (Calamity Caverns)

-Holy Water

-Purging Fluid (Numbing Fields)

-Sickly Sweet Apple (Scorching Dunes)

Keep Belegur in black crystalline vial until ready to drink

“Do you know where I could find the rest?”

“You have to find someone that’s actually sorry for their sins, which might not be too hard. Good luck with the holy water though. Unless you plan on visiting Heaven too,” Ink snickers.

Perhaps you’ll be lucky and find a secret passage or portal that leads up there, yet you doubt it would be that easy. “I’m not planning on it anytime soon. Of course, the change in scenery would be nice,” you say, scribbling down a few more notes before standing. “Let me get you that snack you were asking for. What’s it look like?”

“Oh yeah, it’s a chocopuff. It’s just a little ball of chocolate and cream that’s at the top of the pantry. Don’t let Chef catch you though because she’ll be pissed.”

No surprise there either. “And probably cut my hands off with her cleaver, which would really suck,” you laugh.

“Yeah, cause then I’d lose the extra help from you when you’d want random favors,” he snorts to himself yet his smile is wide, white eyes gleaming.

Getting to the pantry isn’t an issue thankfully as Chef focuses only on her cooking, but sneaking the rather large ball of sugar took some precise timing whenever she’d abruptly turn for an ingredient. So you wrap the treat in a napkin and do your best not to run back to the library, desperately hoping Miss doesn’t happen to be lurking around the corridors. Once you’re shoving yourself through the mahogany doors, you quickly shut them and scurry to where Ink is standing in the alcove.

“Here’s your treat as requested,” you tell him, but he merely glances at you before returning his focus to the books he’s searching through.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t ask for anything,” he mutters.

Your brows furrow while he nonchalantly continues working. His change in demeanor has you carefully peeking around only to find that you two aren’t alone, noticing a seated figure hidden within the shadows of the alcove. You bow hastily, crossing your arms behind your back in a poor attempt to hide the snack. “Good morning, V, I mean, Your Highness,” you practically shout, voice raising at the end of your sentence.

“Could you make it any more obvious?” Ink grumbles under his breath. “This is the last in the series, Your Highness,” he explains, setting the heavy tomes on the table before him.

“Thank you,” V says before greeting you with a faint smirk. “Good morning, Ms. Y/N.”

Ink steps by you and snatches the treat from behind your back, seemingly eating it in one bite. “Don’t be formal on my account,” you hear him mutter though half the words are garbled as he chews.

You stiffen at his words, wondering if he knows that the prince can both hear and visibly see him chewing as he walks away.

“I’ll have to remember that next time,” V tells him and the boy ducks his head, using his hand to cover his mouth. He shakes his head. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. She’s training to become a master thief anyway,” he chuckles while retrieving the brown book on top and starts sifting through the pages.

“Desperate times, desperate measures,” you say.

“You’ve proven to have good reason before,” he notes, giving you a knowing look and he doesn’t hide the humor evident in his irises.

He won’t be letting you live your attempted escapade down anytime soon. Leaning against the bookshelf, you cross your arms as you regard him. “I’m glad you see it like that. So what brings you here this morning?”

“I’m waiting on the others to get here actually,” he explains, still combing through the text. “We’re discussing how to search for this assassin while throwing in some politics as well.”

You glance back at the doors, half expecting them to suddenly show up at the mere mention. “Your friends are still here?”

“They want to help considering I was almost killed and no one’s been caught.”

His words draw your attention back to him again, reawakening the bloody nightmare from that night. As you do, you take note of the faint lines of exhaustion still remaining just below his eyes that have a slight tinge of red to them. “How’ve you been doing with all this? Trying to manage a kingdom while an attempted murderer is after you seems overwhelming.”

V shakes his head, apparently unfazed by the issue. “It’s nothing new. We’ve had one other attempt a decade or two ago, but they were disposed of not too long after. A sword cut through my father’s chest as he slept one night and it somehow missed his organs. He recovered fairly quickly in a few days,” he says, nonchalantly marking the page in the book he’s currently holding before setting it aside to grab another one as he begins doing the same as before.

Confusion sweeps across your face because that surely seems counterintuitive. “But isn’t he immortal and unable to die?” You question.

He nods, his lips barely quirking upwards. “Yes, but if one can do enough damage to an immortal, recovery is tedious and can be quite a process.”

“I’d still be afraid to sleep after that,” you shudder.

He shrugs with a slight tilt of his head. “After a while it gets easier, though it’s been hard these last couple of nights,” he admits.

Propping  your arm against the sturdy wood, you rest your head on your fist, studying him carefully. “How come?”

V sighs, going silent for a moment as he parses for whatever information he needs until eventually answering in a low tone. “Thia was the one to patrol our section of the castle at night. I never talked to her, only in passing actually, but even though I never heard her, I knew she was there. Since her. . .death, Bell has been the one to patrol both her and her sister’s sectors from now on. She does it, but it’s been difficult for her.” His fingers catch on the pages a few times before he relents to using his nails to pry the thin paper apart as he finally turns it.

You wince, recalling your own encounter with Cara earlier. How do people manage to stay sane in this place? “I can only imagine. Especially after witnessing it herself.”

His shoulders hunch ever so slightly as he sets the book aside, eyes focused on the stone flooring. He doesn’t say anything for a moment before eventually breathing a quiet sigh, one that sounds prolonged with age. “Yes, my father reacted too quickly. He doesn’t accept mistakes as proper excuses.”

“I’ve noticed.” There’s an edge in your voice that doesn’t go unseen, the prince grimacing as his eyes zero in on your arms as you both remember your clumsy mistake that led to those circumstances. Your fingers gently tap against one of the shelves as you glance down. “Bell is doing her best to manage, and so is Cara. I haven’t talked to Hiss though. I just hope they’re okay.”

Nodding somberly, he slumps against the sofa with his back heavily hitting the velvet cushion. “Yes, I hope the same.”

There’s a bout of silence as you withdraw into your thoughts before clearing your throat. “Can I ask you something?”  

“Hmm?” He wonders, breaking free from his own thoughts.

You go to your table and retrieve the book, keeping your line of sight away as you open it to the correct page. “Have you heard of this before?” You show him the picture of the potion you need.

“Belegur? How did you come across this?” He takes the book from you, skimming the text before turning the page.

“I figured it out through one of Jeon’s drawings. He had coordinates leading to this specific potion.”

His head jerks up, brows rising as well as he regards you incredulously. “Congratulations on solving one of his riddles. Those aren’t easy by any means. You think this potion will cure your sister?” He inquires, tapping on the sheet.

You nod. “If what Ink read is true, I think this is what she needs.”

“How do you plan on getting it to her?”

The question briefly halts the rising seed of hope that grows within you but you toss the doubts aside. “Well, after I get the ingredients for it I’m hoping there’ll be a portal or something that can take me home.”

V cocks his head to the side, propping his chin on his knuckles. “And how are you getting said ingredients?”

You hesitate, shifting uncomfortably on your feet as you smooth your sweaty palms on your clothes. “Well, if it’s not too much to ask, I was hoping you could take me or at least give me permission to go,” you mutter.

He stares at you, facial expression not shifting in the slightest as he says, “you don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I do actually,” you fire back.

“Oh really?” He scoffs, brown eyes alight with incredulity. “Because I can assure you the journey isn’t as simple as it sounds. It would take at least a day or two just to get to every realm.”

“I’d find a way.”

“Yes, I know you would,” he affirms, raking a hand through his blond strands of hair and effectively leaving them ruffled awry. “And while I respect your determination, it would only lead to your death.” He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he regards you before sighing roughly. “You won’t take no for an answer,” he concludes. “I made a promise to help you, so I can fetch these ingredients instead.”

Your back stiffens ramrod straight in response. “I need to go with you,” you firmly answer.

“Why?”

“Because this is my problem so I should be trying to fix it.”

He shakes his head, mouth twitching in an attempt to keep from smiling. “These aren’t just places with tortured souls wandering about. All sorts of monsters roam in these areas, each with their own disturbed capabilities to kill.”

Rolling your shoulders, you try keeping your irritation at bay as you feel your fists tighten. “Look, I know I don’t know how to fight and even if I trained nonstop before leaving, my combat skills would be subpar at best. I can’t fight, but I’d do whatever I could to help. Use me as bait if you have to, but I’m going with you one way or another,” you seethe, your jaw clenching as you grit your teeth together and drop your hands on the table separating the two of you.

His eyes flash up to meet yours as though carefully searching for something. V eases to a stand and replicates your position, knuckles pressing firmly against the aged wood as his face hovers just before you. For a moment, you’re temporarily distracted by his close proximity and how close you can admire his features. The slight curl of his long lashes all the way to the cute mole at the tip of his nose. Ridding those thoughts away with a quick blink, you notice he’s still staring though there’s a slight smirk now playing on his lips.

“I’ll consider it,” he murmurs.

Your muscles relax as you sigh and relax your posture. “Thank you,” you breathe, willing to be appeased with that for now because at least it’s something.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. I’m not disregarding your demands, I just want to err on the side of caution,” he explains, still quietly observing you.

“I know.” When the double doors open with a groan you start collecting your things. “I should go. Also I don’t know if you’re aware or not,” you say, tossing a green notebook from one of the side tables on top of your stack, “but the prisoners need a break. I don’t think they should be punished if they haven’t done anything wrong.”

V blinks before realization dawns as his facial expression drops disappointedly. “I don’t know the whole situation about that, but I can attempt reasoning with my father who surely had a hand in it,” he sighs, massaging the side of his neck.

“Thanks.” You bow to him and head towards the doors, seeing his friends at the entrance. A majority of them simply nod in acknowledgement at you, though Min lightly pats your arm in passing.

RM who’s picking up the rear, lingers as you approach. “Ms. Y/N, I hope you’ve been well.”

“Yes sir, thank you.” You bow to him and Jeon. “And thank you, Jeon, for the drawing. It was very useful.”

He gives a short nod. “Glad I could help,” he quietly answers, his eyes focused on the floor.

Bowing once more, you walk passed and go to set your things down in your room before heading downstairs. Now that Ink has told you the ingredients, it won’t hurt to start searching for clues on how to find some of them since there’s no telling when V will be able to take you on your journey through Hell. And you might as well start with the person who seems to know everything. The metal door grinds as it opens, signaling your arrival and you head to the cells, where familiar black hair is sticking through the bars. You set the full bucket down, slipping the cans in between and rolling them across the dusty floor.

Hakyeon’s bare back rests against the gate and you put the gruel beside him. “I brought you some food,” you whisper to him.

Snorting in response, he lifts his shoulders for a mere second before sagging back down. “Oh joy. More scrumptious things to eat.”

“There’s more actually.”

“What? A slice of bread?” He sarcastically rejoices.

“Not exactly,” you say, holding up the green book next to him. That gets his attention as he reaches for it, but you hold it back, afraid of losing your upper hand and a wave of guilt washes over you until you tamp it down. “Can I ask you some questions first?”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” he mumbles, grabbing the can and turning around to fully face you where you let out a gasp.

Since you saw him last, he’s acquired more bruises and scratches, most of his face mottled with an array of discoloration. His left eye is marked purple from a recent welt and cuts are scattered about his jaw as well as his lips.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “But I think I might’ve been able to put a stop to the interrogations.”

He rolls his eyes before silently wincing from the movement. “That’s nice. The entertainment was growing a bit repetitive towards the end.” He cracks open his can and drinks. “So what do you want?”

Crouching down, you get comfortable as you sit on the scathed floor. “You said before that you didn’t know there was a shooter. Does that mean you knew there was a possible assassin?”

Hakyeon takes another gulp, then rests the cool can against the side of his face. “Something like that.”

“But how? And why didn’t you say anything?”

“Don’t be so judgemental. There were plenty of people in attendance that night, I thought the rumors pertained to a certain. . .acquaintance of mine. Shame, really.” He rests his face on the bars. “The others have been talking, getting restless,” he mutters, jerking his head towards the group huddled in the back corner. “It’s mostly nonsense, but something’s been riling them up.”

“Because of something here in the castle?”

He shakes his head. “No, from outside. From the forest, I presume.”

Again with that damned forest. You sigh before shaking your head. “One more question, where can I find holy water?”

The demon blinks once and blankly stares. “Do I look like an angel to you?”

You roll your own eyes in return with a huff. “No, but you don’t need to be an angel to get holy water.”

“True, but you need to know one to get it down here. And we’re not exactly on friendly terms with them,” he loudly whispers.  

Rolling your eyes once more is tempting but you resist, otherwise they’d surely get stuck from doing it so often. “So how would one get it here?”

“By someone being able to provide strong evidence of wrongdoing that could disrupt the balance. It’s rare but not impossible. Or just impede on their chorus rehearsal and praying sessions.”

“Isn’t chaos and wrongdoing kind of what goes on down here all the time?”

He half-heartedly shrugs. “More so like setting monsters loose from hell or breaking down the gates of Heaven. Planning an uprising, taking over earth, etcetera, etcetera. And don’t give me that look. Yes, it’s quite calm down here, but it usually just stays here. Nothing too extreme that would worry angels.”

That catches your attention as you lean closer towards the cell, watching his omniscient crimson eyes which normally glimmer with unconcealed entertainment yet now reflect far more caution than usual. “So something big is happening?”

“Apparently, if you have something with access to holy water that’s trying to assassinate your prince.”

“He’s not my prince,” is your immediate retort.

The demon stares you down, brow arching in return. “Isn’t he? You serve him, do you not?” He affirms, lips poking out in a faux pout.

Gripping the iron bars in agitation, you give him a firm glare. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” He fires back.

You sigh, resisting the urge to bang your head against the cell bars. “Whatever. Are you actually implying someone is trying to assassinate him to prevent him from planning an uprising?”

Another casual shrug.

That doesn’t sound right. So far V hasn’t hinted at engaging in any violence let alone a war. “Why would he do that?”

He turns his palms upwards. “Power. Notoriety. Take your pick.”

You’re quick to shake your head. “That’s not him,” you deny.

“Well someone seems to think so. Besides, he's a prince. Both royals and politicians get killed off all the time. And it’s not always done inconspicuously either.”

“I guess that shouldn’t be surprising. Morality isn’t exactly taken into consideration here,” is your dry retort.

“Not even a bit, my darling,” he confirms with a grin.

You chew the inside of your cheek, mulling over this new information. “Thanks for the help,” you say, slipping the book through the bars.

“Of course. This interrogation is much more pleasant, especially with the added incentive,” he says, indicating towards his gift. “Are you taking your leave now?”

“I am,” you say, climbing to your knees and pulling yourself up. “I’ll come visit again soon hopefully.”

“Excellent. I wish you good luck on your endeavors.” Hakyeon manages a true smile, the first you’ve seen in a while.

You faintly manage one in return before leaving, heading up the steps and into the hallway. As you turn down one of the corridors, you hear quiet sobs coming from nearby. Peeking around the corner, you find Bren heavily leaning against a table. Though her back is to you, her tremors aren’t hard to miss. With her elbows bearing most of her weight on the tabletop, her legs barely keep her upright while her face remains hidden in the palms of her hands.

Stepping forward, you slightly clear your throat before quietly calling her name. She abruptly stills, not even breathing for several seconds until only her neck twists in your direction. Her eyes narrow, though the glare she inflicts towards you doesn’t hold its usual hatred, her blue eyes drained of any emotion.

“What?” She demands. “Do you want me on my knees thanking you for sparing my life? Or are you here to collect the favor I now inevitably owe you?”

You shake your head. “No, I was just passing through. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Heh,” she breathes. “As if.” She puts her hands on the table as she leans forward. Walking by her carefully, her head lifts and both your eyes meet in the mirror fixed onto the wall. “Is it true that the assassin is a male?”

“I don’t know,” you quietly admit, afraid to even say it out loud.

There’s a flash of surprise before she sneers in fury. “Then why did you say it?”

You’re not expecting any form of gratitude but her hostility has you bristling in return. “Because I’m tired of all this death! And even though you may hate me for whatever reason, I don’t think you should die when there’s no proof.”

Standing up straight, she turns around and props her hip against the side of the table. “Stupid human, pretending to be some godsend heroine will get you nowhere,” she hisses.

With your fists tensing in response, your jaw clenches as you resist angrily snapping at her, refusing to give her a reason to do something conniving. “I’m not trying to be anything,” you grind through your teeth.

“No, you’re just trying to impress the prince since he’s infatuated with you for some reason.” Her fingers fiddle with the black ribbon tied around her neck, tugging the fabric lightly.  

“You’re wrong,” you snap.

Bren scoffs in disbelief. “Oh, please everyone can pretty much see it. It’s so pathetic,” she mutters with a disgusted grimace before it’s replaced with indifference. “Let me just remind you that he will be mine soon.” Her tone is hard yet beneath the determination within her words, there’s a faint quiver.

“That’s fine.” Your words remain neutral though the same can’t be said for your heart as it twinges slightly upon hearing your answer. It doesn’t matter. If ignoring any form of romance or companionship keeps you alive longer and helps you save your sister in the end, then the price means nothing.

She eyes you for another moment, disdain evident on her features before she wipes away her tears and storms off leaving you alone in the corridor.

— — — 

<— Previous | | Next —>

You jump and turn towards the voice, ready to chunk the bucket in a poor attempt of self-defense only to find the prince standing by the wooden stable doors. He wears a silver cloak with the hood down and you catch a glimpse of his sword at his hip. “V,” you loudly say his name. “Here to visit the horses?”

He smiles as he approaches. “Actually I’m here to take Zelda out for some fresh air.”

“Oh. Is it safe for you to go out after what happened?” You quietly ask, not wanting to actually speak the words “attempted assassination”. From behind Zelda has snuck closer to you before giving you a strong nudge, her head pushing against your back and you’re flung forward as you stumble while V rushes to catch you. You latch onto his biceps to balance yourself while his hands steady you by holding onto your waist.

Your eyes meet as you stare at one another, lost in a myriad of thoughts without saying a word.  He breaks the spell first as he merely shrugs, breaking out into a mischievous smirk. “Technically no, but this cloak prevents me from being recognized or identified. And no one knows I’m going out except for you. Also, did I not give strict orders for you to not do any difficult tasks?” He asks, raising a brow at you.

“Feeding the horses doesn’t require a lot of exertion. Besides, Lhaine has made sure I barely do anything at all even though I’m feeling much better,” you reassure. With Kala’s exercises and plenty of forced rest, your shoulder doesn’t constantly ache or throb as much anymore.

“Good, now let’s not push yourself too hard, yes?”

Knowing both him and Lhaine only mean well for you, you can’t quite keep from rolling your eyes in return. “Of course, Your Highness,” you answer. There’s a brief pause and you suddenly remember that you’re still in his embrace. “I hope you enjoy your outing.”

“Thank you, little dove.” His smile widens, genuine happiness seeping into the playful expression. When you go to step back, his arms slowly slide away until they fall to his sides, his smile faltering briefly but doesn’t disappear. He eyes you for another moment, hidden emotions you can’t quite identify flickering from within before he turns his attention to Zelda as he gets her saddle ready. “Behave,” V tells you from atop her back as they pass by while she walks towards the stable entrance.

“Yes, sir,” you joke, bending to do a small curtsy for him in return which causes him to let out a chuckle.

He pulls the hood up until it covers his head before urging Zelda into a trot as they disappear from sight.

                                                               ~*~

The next morning as you head towards the kitchen for breakfast, you’re surprised to find energy buzzing throughout the castle. The other servants move quickly through the halls, rushing to their tasks as they whisper to each other. Even as you pass the guards stationed at their posts, you hear them mutter to one another and you catch a few words here and there about some politician.

Inside the kitchen, you don’t see Chef anywhere but there’s pots and pans cooking on the stove. Instead you find the Faegel huddled together eating their breakfast while they speak quietly amongst themselves. “And he was here for lunch not too long ago. My friend who lives in that realm wonders if it’s a possible coup,” Rae tells them, her eyes wide.

Mel rolls her eyes in annoyance. “Imbecile. If it were a coup, said leaders would’ve clearly taken credit for his death. No one has claimed any whatsoever. This is something else.”

“Whatever it is, it’s put the rest of the Senate on edge,” Bren responds.

“Do you think it’s another assassination like the one—ow!” As Rae speaks she’s cut off by Mel harshly pinching her arm as she jerks her head toward you.

All three immediately grow quiet, cleaning up their food before going to leave the room. “Too bad you weren’t there human,” Mel says as they pass by, “maybe you could’ve rescued him as well,” she notes with an acidic smirk. Neither Bren nor Rae say a word, instead quietly exiting as they walk beside Mel.

With a shake of your head, you fetch your own breakfast and begin eating as Lhaine comes in to join you. “So is it true a senator is dead?” You ask while she rifles for a few slices of bread.

Taking a bite, she sits down on the stool beside you. “Damn, you already heard too?” She asks around the food in her mouth as she chews. “Then it must true. I thought it was just a rumor or people exaggerating.”

“Apparently not. And nobody seems to know who could’ve done it.”

“Yeah, because it shouldn’t be possible,” she snorts.

Her statement confuses you as your brows draw together. “What do you mean? Wait,” you pause, “he had already ascended, hadn’t he?”

She nods. “Mmhmm. Which means someone has done the impossible,” she confirms.

Her words click in your head as you understand the true severity of the situation. “So, surely they’ll look into who did this and find them before they kill someone else.” Surely it can’t be a coincidence that someone tried to murder the prince right before a senator who was essentially immortal is now dead. Unless this is merely the common joys of demonic politics in Hell, rules be damned.

Lhaine shrugs as she drinks her water. “Hopefully. We don’t exactly have law enforcement down here. Murder is pretty much fair game, but if an ascended truly is dead then the playing field’s gotten a bit more leveled. No doubt the rest of the senators are losing their shit right now.” She snorts into her cup. “Wouldn’t mind seeing that,” you hear her mutter.

A thought occurs to you. “Isn’t RM also a part of the senate?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “but he’s exceptionally intelligent and more than capable of holding his own. Even if he wasn’t, he’s got Jeon who can easily annihilate enemies no problem.”

Chef returns at that moment and points to you. “Take the tea to Mr. Min and the other guests. They’re up in the library,” she orders, removing a kettle from the stove while she opens a cabinet which has a tea set inside. “Use this.”

You gently take out the porcelain tea set, pouring the crimson tea from the kettle and into the tea pot. The pretty set is white and decorated with little purple flowers that are painted on the outside. “I got it,” you quickly reassure Lhaine who eyes you dubiously. “Most of the weight is on my good arm.” While it’s both awkward and terrifying having to balance such delicate items using mostly one arm, you use the other to hold it in place, ensuring it won’t abruptly tip over.

“See you,” Lhaine calls after you, obvious skepticism and disapproval evident in her face as she watches you leave.

Carrying the tea set, you’re careful to keep the tray steady with your one arm while you open the door to the library. As you enter you find most of V’s friends inside. While Jay and Suga occupy one of the couches, Jin sits in one of the chairs by the table, an ornate mirror held in his hand. He admires his reflection, fixing a strand of black hair while the duo murmur softly to each other. Off to the side at another chair sits Min, seemingly staring off into space, either concentrating on his visions or listening into their conversation.

Min turns his head, facing your direction as you approach. “Thank you, Ms. Y/N,” he says as you set the porcelain tray down.

“You’re welcome,” you reply, setting each cup onto a saucer before reaching for the teapot as you slowly pour the steaming liquid. Jay, Suga, and Min each take their own while Jin leaves his, attention still focused on inspecting his face.

Arranging the remaining cups, you hesitate, wondering if you should prepare the tea for the others but Min addresses your unspoken question. “You can leave the rest and we’ll pour it once they arrive. That way it’ll be fresh,” he answers with a smile.

“Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, we’re fine at the moment. How’s your shoulder?” He inquires.

“Better, thank you,” you tell him. There’s still soreness in your muscles when you move a certain way but otherwise it’s slowly improving.

“This is a tragedy,” Jin suddenly moans, everyone’s attention turning towards his abrupt exclamation.

“I wouldn’t call it a tragedy. Unfortunate, sure, but Cellhád was always trying to pass distasteful rules that would upset the balance,” Suga says.

Jin rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t talking about him,” he scoffs with a shake of his head. “I’m talking about the fact that I have a scar.” He points to his upper cheekbone where you can just barely see a crack in his skin, as though it’s about to break off.

Min’s forehead creases at that. “Strange. You’ve just recently shattered so you shouldn’t be losing pieces so soon.”

“Were you playing a little too rough on Hallow’s Evening, old man?” Suga chuckles, earning a glare from Jin in return.

“Tch, ridiculous,” is all he mutters.

“Maybe it’s because you’re still missing a piece of yourself,” Jay wonders, indicating to the fourth finger still absent from his hand. “It’s not like you to lose yourself, literally.”

“No, it’s not that. I’ve went a couple of weeks without a finger before I eventually found it. I just hope it’s nothing to do with my curse progressing or growing stronger,” Jin sighs, fingertips grazing along his skin just below the crack.

“Could there be a medicine or potion that can fix it?” You find yourself asking, drawing their attention to you and you flinch in return. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Min is the one that answers you. “No need to apologize, it’s an honest question. I’m sure you’re thinking of the healing salve that can fix minor cuts and scratches, yes?”

“Yeah, I think so. Miss had given me some the day I came here,” you say, remembering when you hit your head on Loom’s cart all those weeks ago in the Crooked Forest. It feels like a lifetime ago.

“Unfortunately, it wouldn’t do Jin any good because he’s not technically injured. It’s just a part of his curse so he can’t be healed,” Min explains.

“That’s an interesting thought though if we could just glue him back together,” Jay muses, thumb rubbing along his chin. He’s met with a scowl from Jin who seethes in his seat. “Sorry, sorry,” he’s quick to apologize, raising his hands in surrender. “I was just joking, honest.”

“You know this might be a sign that you’ll have to be proactive again in trying to break your curse, right?” Suga pipes in from beside Jay, his gaze fixated on the white butterfly with orange tipped wings that’s perched on the back of his hand.

The anger dissipates from Jin leaving only resignation in its wake as he sighs. “Yes, I was afraid of that.” He shakes his head as though ridding himself of his internal thoughts. “I’ll manage in the meantime. Besides we have more pressing matters at the moment.”

You take that as your queue to leave, realizing all too late that you’ve just been standing there listening in on their conversation. Bowing, you silently excuse yourself and make your way to the library entrance, hearing the discussion shift to the dead senator.

Only the topic switches briefly as Jay asks, “Is that why V’s been studying portals and whatnot?” His voice low, but enough for you to still hear even as you approach the door.

“Will you hush?” Min responds with a quiet snort.

It’s not hard to assume that they’re referring to you. Is that why V has been visiting the library more often?

“Hello, Ms. Y/N,” you hear and turn to find RM standing behind you at the entrance. Jeon stands just behind him, holding the door open for him. “It’s good to see you.”

“Nice to see you both too, sir,” you answer in return.

“How’s recovery been?”

“Going well, thank you. Kala has recommended some great exercises that are really helpful,” you say.

He nods with a smile, revealing two dimples on either cheek and a pair of fangs that peek out. “Yes, she’s a wonderful lady,” he agrees. “Very adept in her studies and work. Please give my regards next time you see her.” Stepping around you, he makes his way to the others with Jeon right at his heels and you softly call the younger boy’s name.

The vampire immediately freezes, gaze fixated straight ahead before he turns his head, crimson eyes meeting your own. He doesn’t say a word, merely staring at you in return.

“I just wanted to say thank you for the drawings. They’ve been really helpful,” you tell him.

Jeon gives a tentative nod, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “You’re welcome,” he quietly murmurs, voice low but also soft, much to your surprise. “Glad you’re feeling better.” And then he quickly walks away, following after RM who’s already seated in one of the lounge chairs, taking his position standing at the bookshelf just behind the group.

                                                               ~*~

Rough stone grazes against your skin as you slowly wake. Taking in your surroundings, you stare out into the pitch black space, and left to feel along the ground until you can stand upright. You hold your palm against the nearest wall of what feels like a cave, using it as a guide to lead you toward what you’re hoping is an exit. As you peer out into the darkness, you catch a glimpse of a faint blue light. It glows in the distance, so you focus on that while continuing to feel along the coarse granite with your hand.

Once you’re close enough, you find the light to be the glow of a lantern hanging from the ceiling. The cobalt flame flickers within the glass that houses it and when peering further ahead, there’s another one down the corridor. You continue towards the next one, losing your sight in the darkness of the cave in between each lantern. As you approach, there’s movement from the shadows and the sound of scrabbling echoes, causing you to flinch.

Moving slowly, you make out the outline of a figure that’s huddled just beyond the reach of the fire’s light. You swallow, voice unable to emerge from your throat besides a thin, whispery, “Hello?” Your muscles tense in preparation, body ready for flight or fight depending on how the person reacts.

But they don’t suddenly attack or scream, or even flinch in response either. Instead, they lift their head before turning to face in your direction. Familiar eyes, glazed with exhaustion, peek out from beneath their hair.

“Faith?”

The quiet call of her name causes your sister to squint as she stares up at you. Recognition is slow to seep in before she answers with your name, the word slow and unsure.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you confirm, resisting the urge to drop down on your knees beside her and hug her tightly. You haven’t seen or spoke to her since the night you nearly died, and while she seemed more coherent then, you’re not sure about the current state she’s in now. It could all be a ploy for her to get you close so she can attack you like all the other times.

Her facial expression lingers between confusion and realization. “You’re alive?”

“I am.”

“You’re alive,” she repeats, before understanding finally dawns. “You’re alive!” She pushes herself to her feet, standing upright so she can look at you directly. “Are you okay?” Her hands grasp your face, bony fingers pressing against your skin and you involuntarily flinch, expecting sharp nails to suddenly pierce through flesh.

“I’m fine,” you tell her while she inspects your face.

“Strange, I didn’t even recognize you. You look different,” she notes, gently pushing you backwards until you’re both standing beneath the glow of the lantern. With the light shining down, it illuminates your figures, including the prominent black in your veins that matches her own. “That’s right, they poisoned you too.”

Now you’re confused as you give her a quizzical look. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

She stares deep into your eyes, seeming to be searching for something. “The darkness inside you. It’s slowly draining you, feasting on your soul, and you won’t be able to fight it off for long.”

Darkness is feasting on your soul? Since when? How coherent is your sister actually? Rather than outright question her and risk possibly angering her, you opt to simply go along with it. “Yeah, you said that once right before trying to kill me,” you note.

A wave of concern sweeps across her features and she pauses, biting at her lip. “I did? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Things have been fuzzy lately.” She lets out an unsteady breath, her hands shaking against you.

Carefully, you reach up and grab onto her shoulders, internally shuddering at the feel of bone jutting through her skin. “It’s okay, you’re not yourself right now. But everything’ll be fine soon. I’m going to find you a cure so you won’t be sick anymore,” you’re quick to reassure her while she anxiously glances around the space before refocusing on you.

“Wait, how are you going to do that? You can’t help both me and yourself.”

“Why not?”

Your sister winces before shaking her head. “Because they won’t let you. Once they’ve latched on, they won’t let go, not that easily. If you can get rid of the poison from yourself first, then you’ll be able to help me. But I’m glad my memory was useful,” she notes, a relieved smile forming on her lips.

“What memory?”

She blinks. “The one where we played hide and seek outside, silly,” she chuckles.

It takes you a minute as you wrack your brain before remembering the dream of you both playing in the forest as kids until the nightmare transformed it into a terrifying, haunted place. “That was you showing me that? But why? We were just playing around to pass the time.”

“Because that’s where it all began. Don’t you remember what happened in the woods?” She stares at you, worry filling her eyes. “Wait, where are you going?”

You blink and suddenly find yourself further away from her, all the way at another lantern. Glancing around you see you’re at a crossroads with multiple pathways. Each one has a blue lantern except for the one to your left. Instead it’s actually a soft purple.

“I don’t know how but I think I found a way out,” you tell her just as she catches up. You point to the light which causes her brows to furrow together. “Have you seen this before?”

“No, I haven’t. Weird.”

Taking her hand you begin heading down the tunnel, straight towards the odd flame. As you approach, you look further down the dark tunnel for the next lantern. There’s yet another one where the fire is glowing even brighter. You make your way towards it and see it’s now become a burning red.

“Ever seen a red lantern before?” You ask, staring up at it.

“What are you talking about?” She asks, looking at the lantern as well. “That’s blue.”

“Pretty sure I know my colors, sis,” you jokingly remark, voice light as you try to quell the uneasiness. “Okay, what about that one?” You point to the next one further down which is red as well.

“That’s blue too.”

“Why am I seeing red then?” You wonder, continuing towards the flame.

“I don’t know, but maybe we should head back—seriously?” You hear her sigh from behind as you continue heading for the strange lantern. “We don’t even know where we are.”

As you stand below the hanging light, you feel the texture of the floor change and you glance down to feel smooth purple carpet beneath your feet. Looking back up, you stare off into the distance, searching for the next light. Except it’s not a lantern nor is it attached to the ceiling but rather to the sides of the wall. And there’s multiple lamps all in a row emitting a familiar soft red glow.

Since when did the castle have a passageway leading to a dark cave, specifically in the northeast wing?

“We’re back in the castle,” you breathe, glancing around the space behind the thrones.

“What are you talking about? This isn’t a castle,” your sister says. You turn and see her giving you a concerned look.

“I know this place, it’s where I’ve been staying. Come on, I can take you back to my room,” you insist, but she stops you with a shake of her head.

“Y/N, seriously, a castle with red lights? It may be an improvement from this gloomy cave but there’s nothing here,” she answers.

She means it too, her eyes gazing at you with sympathy and it makes your stomach twist into knots. “You can’t see any of it? Not the trio of thrones or winding staircases on either side of us. Not even the red lights. Nothing?” The last word is a helpless plea, urging her the ability to see what you mean. Instead, she tells you something but no sound comes out. “What?”

“Y/N,” you hear the word slowly register within the quiet space as she gingerly grasps onto your wrist. “Are you alright, Ms. Y/N?”

The formal address of your name has you suddenly drawing a sharp breath, dizziness causing your head to spin as you rapidly blink in the dimly lit area. When you look towards your sister, she’s gone. Instead you find Hiss floating in the place where she once stood. Looking down, you see the black tendrils of her hair looped around your arm.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” you mumble, mind still hazy as you shake off the remnants of sleep.

Hiss hovers before you, red eyes staring with an intensity that sends a shiver up your neck. “Where were you headed?” She asks, voice bright and airy, yet there’s a hint of an accusatory tone underneath the cheerfulness.

“I don’t actually know.” You keep searching the area for a glimpse of your sister or even a glowing blue lantern. But there’s none of that, just the stairwell and the rest of the rooms.

“Do you always go wandering the castle this late at night?”

“No, not really. I have trouble sleeping sometimes,” you say, shifting uncomfortably when you feel the tendrils of her hair just barely tighten their hold on your wrist.

Hiss nods in understanding, the dark strands tethered to you moving along with her. “Hmm. I haven’t seen you up until now. Where do usually go?”

“Normally I just go to the kitchen for a drink and then back to bed,” you helplessly shrug, body stiffening as the seconds pass.

“And you don’t go anywhere else?”

You wordlessly shake your head in response.

She keeps staring back at you and the fact that she has no pupils, just full red eyes, builds tension that seems to fill the space. “You know things were normal around here, boring almost, until you suddenly showed up. Why is that?” Though she’s expecting an honest answer, there’s that accusatory undertone, one that’s laced with bitterness.

“You’re not the first to say something along those lines,” you answer humorlessly, remembering how Kala had mentioned something similar after you had been shot. Except she wasn’t distrustful of you nor had she blamed you for these series of strange and unfortunate events.

“Maybe your presence disrupted the balance. Certainly the natural order of things,” she notes harshly.

Her brewing anger has you wincing, shrinking beneath her searing gaze. “I’m sorry about Thia.” It’s the only thing you can think to say.

“Yeah, me too.” Even if she’s resentful, her words are filled with a resigned defeat as though she’s aged greatly and is left permanently exhausted.

“Hiss? What’re you doing?” Another voice asks as Cara floats forward as she comes around from the front of the thrones. “Oh, Y/N, I didn’t see you there,” she says upon taking notice of you. “Couldn’t sleep again?”

“Again? She does this often?” Hiss questions, her eyes boring incredulously at her sister who nods in confirmation.

“Yes, sometimes we sit and talk in the kitchen.”

“And you didn’t think this was crucial information to share with the King during that damned interrogation?” Hiss’s voice rising as her grip tightens even more around your wrist, causing you to grimace when your bones squeeze from the pressure.

“No, because she’s not the assassin and her nightly walks have nothing to do with what happened. Now let her go, Hiss. You’re hurting her,” she calmly suggests though Cara’s ruby eyes harden in contrast.

“So what? A little discomfort is nothing compared to what Thia felt that day,” Hiss spits.

Even if it’s not intended, her words do the expected damage as Cara visibly flinches, her face tormented by the painful reminder of the fresh wounds that have only just begun healing. “Hiss, that was cruel and completely uncalled for!” Cara shouts in return, aghast at her strong words and attitude.

“What is the meaning of this commotion?” Bell harshly whispers, her head appearing from the second floor as she descends down to where you all are. “Everyone is asleep and you’re having a spat in the middle of the main hall?”

Hiss is the first to respond. “I found her wandering the halls,” she states, tilting her head in your direction.

Bell hardly glances your way. “Yes, she works and lives here. Unless she was going somewhere off limits what does it matter? Otherwise, what of it?”

“Is this just common knowledge I just wasn’t aware of? Thia literally described a strange person the night of Hallow’s Evening and neither of you thought to mention it during the interrogation that she constantly wanders the halls quite often?”

“Because it had nothing to do with what happened during the ball,” Bell similarly repeats Cara’s earlier words. “And did you fail to recall that she was shot by the said assassin?”

“Which could’ve been part of the plan for all we know. She could be in league with them.”

“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Cara suddenly interjects. “She wouldn’t do that. Besides she’s my friend so quit accusing her such things.”

“As if that matters! Just because she’s nice and all friendly to you doesn’t automatically make her trustworthy,” her sister retorts. “Did you know she also apparently sleepwalks?”

Cara pauses for a moment before she responds with, “She has recurring nightmares, you disembodied dimwit, so no, I’m not surprised.”

“Enough.” While not overly loud, Bell’s assertion is domineering enough to halt the strew of arguments being unleashed. “This bickering is nothing but childish and pointless.” She addresses Hiss first. “Nothing could’ve been done to save Thia that day. You know this even if you won’t accept it. Her fate was sealed the moment the King reached his decision.” She regards her sister’s hair which is still coiled tightly around your wrist to the point you’ve lost feeling in your fingers before she uses her own hair to free you from the strands.

“Cara, take Y/N back to her room,” Bell says to her though her gaze remains on Hiss until she turns to you. “And if you could please remain in your room for the rest of the night until morning call it would be much appreciated.”

“Of course. I’m sorry for the trouble I caused,” you answer, feeling guilty of being the cause of the tension between the sisters.

“No need to apologize, Y/N. Have a good rest of the night.”

When you stop at your door, you rest your hand on the handle but don’t open it. “Are you really not surprised by my sleepwalking?” You ask Cara who floats beside you. “I don’t remember doing it ever in my life until now.”

She gently smiles at you, warmth burning within the crimson of her eyes. “Your nightmares have slowly but surely become worse, so I assume that that’s the reason. Even if it somehow isn’t, I don’t believe you’re deceitful or involved in any malicious things.” A weight of sadness causes her smile to slightly wane. “Hiss is just taking Thia’s death especially hard. We’re all close, but those two were inseparable just like Bell and I are. She’ll be okay, so don’t worry,” she reassures you.

All you can do is nod, hoping that she’s right. “Thank you, Cara. You’re a good friend.”

Her smile lifts, revealing teeth as she beams. “I’m glad to hear it, that really means a lot.”

You both wave before you head inside, immediately heading to sit down on your bed. For a few minutes you simply stare down at the carpet beneath your feet, trying to remember the dream you were having while sleepwalking. Something pertaining to your sister but the details are foggy and incoherent.

Huffing in frustration, you’re about to lay down only to stop short upon noticing the pile of dust beside your nightstand. Bending down, you pick up the small navy pouch that’s next to it, recognizing it as the sleeping powder the Queen gave to you. You must’ve somehow knocked it over while you were sleepwalking you think as you dump the thin granules into the bin. As you lie down and burrow beneath the covers, you internally sigh in relief when sleep returns without issue.

When you wake up later on, you feel a twinge in your lower abdomen as you get out of bed. You soon find out the cause of discomfort once you use the restroom and see blood on the toilet paper. Oh joy. You feel a bit miffed that Mother Nature can visit you even down in Hell. Apparently your body has become acclimated enough to the environment, despite the constant stress.

Maybe this is why you suddenly sleepwalked and thought you were with your sister. The shift inside you could be causing strange dreams. One could only hope the answer is as simple as that. After putting some folded toilet paper into your underwear, you finish getting ready before heading downstairs.

                                                               ~*~

In the kitchen, you’re peacefully finishing the rest of your lunch with only Chef for company since Lhaine left to go finish her tasks. That is, until Bren enters the room along with Mel, the latter giving you a disgusted look while the former doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. Not that you’re complaining. As they pass by, you notice Bren has a black ribbon wrapped around her neck, entwined into a little bow at the back, just below her tied up hair. You’re not sure about the color but perhaps because it’s worn higher up it represents a greater status compared to the purple one given to you by the prince for your wrist. Unless this is more of a fashion choice instead.

Both girls head to the counter to eat lunch with Bren gathering food onto a plate while Mel preps the drinks. The latter catches you staring at them and sneers in return. “Can we help you?” She snaps.

You shrug, returning to your own food. “Nothing. Just noticed the new fashion accessory,” you softly compliment. “It’s pretty.”

Mel snorts under her breath, immediately pursing her lips as she focuses on pouring the water. Bren, on the other hand, delivers you with a scalding expression that would probably melt you faster than lava if she possessed that capability. “Oh, you mean this ribbon that signals my disgraced status? Why, how sweet of you to say. You’re probably so satisfied beneath that disgusting saccharine façade,” she spits, cheeks burning red as her eyes tear over.  

Shit, definitely screwed that up. As if she doesn’t already hate your guts. “No, that’s not what I meant. I thought it was by choice, I’m sorry,” you apologize, stumbling over the words, honestly not meaning to offend her or stir the pot. Should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

“Whatever,” Bren sighs, setting their plates on the table before taking her glass from Mel. She takes a sip, immediately frowning at the taste. “How can plain water be so bland and yet so gross?” She mumbles mostly to herself.

Mel shrugs in response. “I know. The wine back home was so much nicer. Ah, maybe one day we’ll get to have a bottle just for ourselves like we used to,” she sighs, reminiscing on past memories.

Her comment elicits another grimace from Bren who doesn’t say anything, instead pointedly keeping her gaze on her unsalted meat and bread. You take the opportunity to gather your plate, finishing off your own glass of water before quickly rinsing them in the sink. Once you’re done, you leave the kitchen so you can get back to your own tasks.

                                                               ~*~

After retrieving, the sheets from the laundry room, you drag the fraying wicker basket behind you, using the hook of the clothes hanger to tug it along. While washing and changing the prince’s bedsheets isn’t too strenuous, you’re not allowed to pick up heavy things as it’ll strain your shoulder and the basket isn’t exactly designed for resting against your hips so you’ve had to improvise in that regard.

Only when you get to the main hall and approach the stairs, you have to crouch down and pull the basket handle up step by step using your own hand so as to prevent the clean sheets from accidentally spilling out. You’re about halfway there when another hand appears and grabs a hold of the other handle. As you glance up, you’re taken by surprise that you can only blankly stare.

“Hurry up, will you? Before you throw out my back,” Rae complains, scowling at your dumbfounded state.

You move then, lifting up the handle with your good arm while she does the same and follows you up the rest of the steps. Instead of leaving you at the top of the staircase she continues walking behind you all the way into the prince’s bedroom which is vacant.  

The two of you set the basket on the ottoman and she already begins unloading the sheets, splaying them against the bare bed. “Thanks,” you say, unsure of how to process this situation.

“Don’t mention it,” she responds, and you take her words at face value.

While you walk to the other side of the bed, your eyes wander to V’s desk and all the books splayed across it. Though you deliberately avoid reading the open pages lest your eyes begin bleeding you happen to catch a glimpse of one book with the title Portaling. So he really has been researching possible ways to escape. The fact that he’s taking this extra time to help you, even though he clearly said he would, still warms your heart. It gives you a sense of relief that there’s someone who has more knowledge and resources, not to mention better luck than you in finding out how to escape from Hell.

Fabric hits the back of your head and you grab the pillowcase before it falls. “Quit snooping through the prince’s room and tuck the sheets in properly,” Rae snaps, her face pinched as she roughly begins working on her side.

Moving quicker, you do the same as you both work in silence, finishing the bed and then sliding the silken pillowcases onto the pillows. “While I appreciate you helping me carry the basket, why bother in the first place? I don’t get the impression I’m liked by you.”

She scoffs. “I don’t hate you if that’s what you’re implying.” Her hands deftly fold the excess pillowcases and blankets, stacking them into small piles.

“You and your friends aren’t exactly fond of me either,” you note, also folding the rest of the laundry.

“They’re not my friends,” she snaps before realizing what she said. “I mean, we’re cousins,” she amends.

You’re taken by surprised though you then remember that they’re all the same type of creature. “Either way, you’ve all hated me from the moment I got here. So I’m sorry if I’m a little apprehensive.”

Rae pauses her folding, blowing out a breath of exasperation as she looks away, avoiding eye contact. “I’m not doing this in an attempt to fulfill Bren’s debt to you, just as a favor for you since you saved her life.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” you awkwardly say. “I was just trying to help.”

“Right. And I meant it when I said don’t mention it. I doubt the prince would want me in here at all even if it’s for a task.”

“Why? I mean, isn’t this a part of our job?” You reason with her.

She hesitates, before answering, “Well, yes, but you have seniority over me. So you should be the one to take care of it first. Besides I’m sure he’d prefer asking you anyway,” she mutters that last part to herself.

“What do you mean? I haven’t been here that long at all.”

“Yeah, but remember what His Highness said after our little ‘tussle’? He demoted Bren and gave you her position as personal servant. So unless he wants something from me specifically, he’ll most likely ask you instead.”

“Is that why she hates me? Because she sees me as a threat?” Bren’s mentioned before how he’ll be hers soon. But with you getting closer to him recently, she probably assumes you’re taking over her territory.

Rae is about to answer yes, but stops short. “They’re close. Well, they had been until you came along,” she mumbles yet again.

All this animosity because they think you’re trying to sabotage a supposed romantic relationship? This is so stupid. You sigh before answering. “I don’t care about whatever connection they have or who’s interested in who, okay? I got kidnapped by demons and now just want out. That’s it. So can all of you just leave me out of this?”

She stares at you for a moment, a look of shock stuck in place until she shakes her head. “Well, Bren doesn’t exactly have a choice. She owes you for saving her from being executed.” As soon as she says it, she scrunches her nose and lets out a noise of frustration as she curses beneath her breath. “I mean, that’s traditionally how it goes, but that’s between you and her. I don’t care for you one way or another, so you stay out of my way and I’ll do the same.”

“Fine by me,” you agree, picking up the now empty basket as you get ready to leave.

“But I will say that you helping Bren be spared is, appreciated.” Rae is keeping her gaze fixated onto the ground and then she turns before quickly leaving the room.

You’re left awkwardly standing and staring at the spot she was just occupying. “You’re welcome,” you softly respond in the quiet space.

                                                               ~*~

Later on, you make a stop at the bathroom near the servants’ quarters, intent on relieving yourself and changing out your “pad.” Seriously, someone needs to start stealing from above ground or inventing proper hygiene products because this is just ridiculously primeval. As you go inside, you head for an open stall only to nearly crash into the restroom door when there’s a loud bang from inside one of the closed stalls.

“Are you kidding me?” A voice shouts, the sound followed by rustling from behind just before a toilet flushes. The stall door flies open, slamming against the wall as Bren emerges, her face red and clearly upset by something. She stops short when she sees you awkwardly standing at the entrance, ready to turn around and bolt. Her lips pinch together before she eventually mutters, “Period problems.” She walks towards the sink so she can wash her hands.

Nodding quietly, you walk behind her as you head towards one of the stalls. “I get it. Sorry, that might be my hormones setting your body’s off. I don’t know if the synchronization is a good or a bad thing,” you snort.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of her reflection as the muscles in her face tighten, nose beginning to protrude. Her hands, which were just about to turn on the water, are gripping onto the handles as she lets out a sharp exhale. “Whatever. It is what it is,” she whispers the last part, and you barely catch it though you don’t respond, going into the stall before locking the door as you do.

                                                               ~*~

Something tickles against your cheek causing your face to twitch. The irritating sensation returns and you reach a hand up to rub at your skin, finding it oddly wet. Opening your eyes, you’re greeted by surrounding darkness, a halo of dim blue light shining down on you. Another droplet hits your forehead and you realize it’s water.

Looking around the space, you hear the pool of water before you see it, the pinging droplets splashing every so often. You crawl towards it, nightgown scraping across the rough dirt and stone until you reach the end before peering down into it. There’s nothing to see except your own reflection. Until, through the depths emerges a face that floats closer. One you can immediately recognize despite the haggard look.

Her eyes meet yours and she parts her lips to which you lean closer.

“Boo,” you hear the word whispered right in your ear. Arms wrap around you as you jump, immediately turning to find your sister beside you.

“Faith,” you gasp, flinching at how cold her body is.

“Sis,” she greets in return with a grin. “Maybe this time don’t go running off, yeah?” While she may be smiling, the grip she has on you is tight and unrelenting.

“Right,” you breathe, an icy chill freezing in the pit of your stomach. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

She pulls you up away from the water and starts guiding you down another path. “Come on, let’s stick together and not chase after strange lights,” she suggests. “Where’d you disappear off to last time? It’s like you completely vanished.”

How do you even begin to explain your current situation in Hell to her? “I woke up. For some reason we’ve been able to see each other but only in our dreams,” you tell her.

It’s silent except for the echoing droplets of water dripping into the miniscule puddles at your feet. Beneath the blue light that hangs above your heads as you pass by, you see confusion cloud your sister’s hazy eyes. She seems lost in distant thoughts before she finally speaks. “Our dreams? That can’t be.”

“But it’s true. That’s the only time I’ve been able to see and talk to you. You’re in the hospital in a coma.”

“Hospital.” She speaks the word slowly as though it’s foreign to her. “I barely remember but I think mom and dad took me. I haven’t been there in a while.”

“What?” Her words cause you to go painstakingly still as if your bones are stiffening in place. “That can’t be. It must be because you’re asleep. How else would we be able to see, I mean, I’d know if. . .” You trail off, the air being squeezed from your lungs, unable to draw it back in.

Faith grimaces, her arm ever so slightly tightening around your shoulders. “I haven’t seen mom or dad, or anyone remotely alive, besides you. Feels like I’ve been lost in these tunnels for ages. I don’t even know if I can leave, let alone get back.”

No, it can’t be. You shake your head. “We just haven’t found the right path. I saw the lights change color last time so surely that’s the key to getting out of here,” you tell her, turning your attention towards the next blue light in the distance.

“Sis,” she calls softly, “there’s nothing besides the blue orbs. Maybe you can somehow see something different but I can’t.”

“Then I’ll guide us by following the different colored lights. They must mean something important,” you insist, already heading off in one direction. Your sister follows close behind though she’s hesitant. As you approach the next blue orb, you see a red one hovering off in the distance. “See? There’s a red one down there. Come on,” you urge her, grabbing her arm as you tug her along.

And then you find yourself sprinting, dashing towards the red lights that float farther away. The grip you have on your sister’s arm loosens and you look back, seeing her all the way behind you. “Aren’t you coming?”

“There’s nothing down that way! It’s just a large precipice,” she yells.

You’re confused until you feel jagged stone touch your palms and you find yourself on your hands and knees, holding onto the protruding edge. Staring down below into the darkness, you barely make out the faint red glow all the way down at the bottom.

“Wait, stop!” You hear her shout from behind.

But it’s like your body has a mind of its own, and you’re just a spectator, as you suddenly lean forward before falling into the dark pit.

You hear your name called from behind but there’s nothing to stop your descent, that is, until something wraps around your waist and yanks you back.

The dark abyss falls back as it’s chased away by a soft glowing light of a chandelier you realize as you hit the ground with a grunt, suddenly finding yourself staring up at the high ceiling. Without looking, you know that you’re on the purple carpet that lines the second floor of the castle.

Not in bed like you’re supposed to be.

“Y/N?”

At the sound of your name, you turn your head and see V lying beside you, worry etched along his features. “Are you alright?” His ebony wings are out, curled up around him, bare chest heaving.

It takes you a second too late to realize you’re openly staring while he waits for your answer. You scramble to push yourself up into a sitting position and he follows suit. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out the apology before the uncomfortable silence can smother you. “I think I was caught in a dream and must’ve been sleepwalking again.”

He stares at you incredulously, seemingly at a loss for words while he rakes a hand through his hair, ruffling the blond locks. “I didn’t know your sleepwalking also meant climbing over the balcony railing and nearly falling to your death.”

“My death?”

“Yes,” he lets out a laugh of disbelief, void of any humor. “I was doing some work in the library when I thought I heard voices and movement so I came out to look then saw you balancing precariously on the railing before pulling you away. Thank goodness I happened upon you when I did.”

Why would you be climbing the railing you wonder as you glance over towards it. You vaguely remember trying to climb something in your dream but nothing’s distinct. Just a shroud of darkness that clouds the small pieces still at the forefront. Something about your sister and shadows. How are you forgetting your dreams all of a sudden?

“I’m glad you found me when you did. Thank you,” you say. “I’ve never sleepwalked before until now.”

He cocks his head slightly, chewing the inside of cheek. “Odd. I hope it’s not due to stress especially since Miss is supposed to be giving you a lighter workload. It’s not because of what happened at the celebration, is it?”

The memory of the bullet piercing your shoulder causes it to faintly twinge and you shudder slightly at the painful reminder. “No, it’s not that. I think my dreams have just been weird lately. Probably just worrying about my sister.” You trail off, thinking about what you could’ve been talking to her about until you suddenly remember her mention being lost in the tunnels. And then you recall the blue lights inside that empty cave with the never ending passageways. How can she possibly be trapped there? What state is she in back home if she thinks she’s stuck in the tunnels?

You know of one way to find out. Risking a glance at V, you see him still studying you, expression unreadable. “I know it’s late and I don’t mean to inconvenience you, but can you take me to your mother’s garden?”

“To see your sister I presume?”

You nod in return. “I’m sorry, I just want to see if she’s okay.”

His eyes soften then, a glimmer of sympathy flickering from within. “Alright.” V gets to his feet and carefully helps you up as well.

Neither of you speak a word as you cut through your room and fly down to the greenhouse rooftop with you held securely in his arms. Crouching down before the crystal clear waters, it unveils another part of your dream as you half expect your sister’s face to appear beside your own. But she doesn’t. Instead, your reflection is accompanied by V’s own, the prince resting against the rock by the pond.

As you hold your anklet above the undisturbed water, your hand trembles and you mentally steel yourself for what you might see. Will she just be an empty shell with hardly any remnants of the sister you once knew? Could she actually be that far gone? If so, then it’ll all be for nothing. You try forcing your hand to shove down and just get it over with, but your arm is locked in place.

“You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, little dove,” V speaks from beside you. “Sometimes it’s easier to not know.” There’s a truth to his sentiment one that’s probably all too familiar for him.

“I know, but if she’s, gone,” you nearly choke on the word, “then is there any point in all this searching?”

“Yes, yourself,” he answers simply. “Even if she’s moved on, we’ll still keep searching for a way to get you home. I’m sure your parents are also missing you dearly.”

“Well, they assume I’m still a part of that internship with Sir. But you’re right.” They’d be devasted at losing not one, but both of their daughters. Staying with your head buried in the sand isn’t an option, at least one that isn’t sustainable in the slightest.

Swallowing, you lower your hand and let the anklet be submerged in the pond. Just like before the water ripples until cracks form along the surface and then shatters, revealing the shimmering glow of crystals. And just like last time, you see the dark hospital room with your dad asleep in the chair nearby. Your sister remains in her bed but nothing has really changed. She still looks the same, except her bones don’t seem to be as noticeable.

“Is it possible she’s getting better on her own?” You wonder aloud, refusing to allow hope to flourish.

“Perhaps. She could be healing on her own or they might’ve found a cure for her,” V says, sitting up slightly to peer into the water. “Do you feel a little better at least?”

“A little. I just wish I knew how much time I had. How much time she has,” you sigh, pulling your anklet out which causes the water to stop glittering before returning to its original state. “Thank you for bringing me here.” You slip the accessory back around your ankle, fingers pinching the strings while you remain staring at it.

“Of course, Y/N. It’s the least I can do,” he tells you. His hand reaches out and touches the fabric lightly as you feel him lean closer beside you. “You know, this would actually be a popular accessory here.”

Perplexed, you turn to face him and are startled by how close he actually is to you, your shoulders nearly brushing each other. “Really?”

He nods, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. “Honest. These are the most favored colors to wear here.”

“That sounds about right,” you snort. As if Hell hasn’t always been associated with red and black since probably the beginning of time.

“Aesthetics aside, from a symbolic perspective, I think your sister chose well.”

“Red for danger and black for death? Yeah, that sounds about right in my case.”

He chuckles with a shake of his head, his fingers tracing along the skin of your ankle. “Colors can have a variety of meanings as I’m sure you’re already aware. I prefer to think of them as representing courage and power which better suits you,” he says, drawing your gaze to him with an undeniable pull.

Eyes interlocked, it takes full control for you to break the connection, focusing instead on the flowers sat on a table behind him. The literal bloodred roses are in full bloom with blood droplets dripping into the soil they’re planted in. Swallowing, you finally answer. “And you study the meaning of colors too? Fascinating.”

One shoulder lifts in a half-shrug. “I know a small bit. Otherwise how else would I be able to dress fashionably?” He jokes. “Actually, mother is the one who’s well-versed in the symbolic meaning of colors. I just know the most about red and black because of how much they pertain to our world.” His hand drops away from your ankle, the warmth escaping with him. “Are you ready to go back?” When you nod, he gathers you into his arms and stands before flying up through the opening in the ceiling.

The sudden change in gravity has you quickly wrapping your arms around his neck so you can hang on even if he has a secure grip on you. While there’s not much of a breeze, the night is still rather cool, enough to slowly sap the heat from your body especially with the thin nightgown you’re currently wearing. Thankfully the heat from V’s bare skin is more than enough to at least help you retain some warmth. And yet, despite being shirtless, he’s not fazed in the slightest by the night air.

It only takes a few seconds for you to reach the balcony of your room, but rather than setting you on your feet, he instead carries you to your bed and gently sets you down on the soft mattress. His arms don’t slide out from underneath you and you don’t release the hold you from around his neck. “Hopefully now that you’ve seen her, you can rest easier tonight. And I’ll let the heads know to keep an eye out in case you begin sleepwalking again. You’ve already survived one close call and I don’t want you getting hurt,” he says.

“Thanks, I hope that’ll be the last of it too.” With the close proximity, your noses almost brush and if you only lift your head a tad then your lips would touch. The notion has you wanting to draw closer, an innate urge to feel how soft they might be.

V also peers down at you with an intensity of his own before he moves first. He leans closer, lips drawing near and your mouth tingles in anticipation of making contact only for you to feel a gentle touch against your cheek. As he presses a kiss on your skin, your face feels hot, cheeks rapidly heating as a result and you know he must be able to feel the warmth radiating on his lips.

And then he pulls away much too soon, removing his arms from around you while your own limply fall into your lap. “Rest well, little dove,” he murmurs, his umber eyes now a molten onyx, with a longing that hides just below the surface.

“Good night, V.” You somehow manage to gain control of your voice, entire body now warm with no traces of the frigid night air left remaining.

Leaving you with one more smile, you watch him walk to the door, his wings the last that you see before the door closes shut. He just kissed you on the cheek. While the two of you have been nothing but amicable, once he dropped the initial flirtatious façade and arrogance, is he implying something different now? Or was that simply a friendly gesture? You can’t tell, having no idea what the demonic customs are and you’re not sure exactly how much of the human ones apply in this instance either.

Needless to say, sleep doesn’t come for the rest of the night. Even as you try tossing and turning, you only manage dozing off every so often. The hours drag by as you fidget beneath your covers before you finally just get up and dressed for the day. You’re walking down the hall towards the kitchen as you decide to go ahead and eat breakfast since morning call will be soon enough anyway. Besides, you want to talk to Lhaine and ask her about the prince’s display of affection. Or maybe you should hold off on telling her, not sure if you’re prepared for her onslaught of questions and comments.

Before you step onto the stairs, you hear voices and see a pair of figures standing just behind the thrones. Ducking down, you press against the wall, straining to hear what they’re saying.

“Any new information?” The first person asks and you recognize him as the King, only now able to catch a glimpse of his glowing red eye.

“No, I’m afraid information has been scarce and no one seems to know the exact coordinates,” the other person says. Though you crane your neck, their back faces you and they’re obscured in the shadows yet they seem to be male.

“Even at the last location?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“You’ve already failed me once,” the King growls. “Keep searching and only report back once you’ve discovered something useful to our quest. The gemstone mustn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“Of course, Your Majesty, the family’s stability is of utmost importance and I will not rest until we succeed.” The other person gives a bow before walking off, disappearing into the dark shadows below the stairwell while the King heads off in the opposite direction. It’s only when they’re gone do you suddenly remember the strange shadowy figure you saw in the garden when you first began staying in your old room, realizing that that’s the same person.

You continuing waiting at the top of the stairs until the slightest sliver of twilight begins creeping through the windows before you finally stand up straight, knees stiff from being in that position. What in the world could the King possibly want with some gemstone?

— — — 

<— Previous | | Next —>

RM hums, his eyes lighting with recognition. “Yes, we’ve met once before. Nice to see you again,” he says, smiling wide and revealing sharp fangs. Behind him, Jeon gives a slight nod in acknowledgement.

The pink haired man gives a half-hearted wave and returns his attention to the mirror in his hand, adjusting the strands of hair strewn across his forehead. The slightly shorter man with black hair standing beside him smiles at you, though there’s the edge of a smirk, a hint of humor lingering just below the surface.

“Wonderful to meet you,” the blindfolded man tells you.

“And to you as well,” you answer softly.

The hinges of the great castle doors groan as they’re pulled open and you all turn to see Miss along with Lhaine and the Faegel close behind her. “Gentleman, excellent to see you once more,” she cordially greets. “Allow us to bring your things inside, so you may get situated.” Lhaine and the others immediately go towards the carriage. Bren glances at V and gives him a bow until she sees you, causing her upper lip to curl in disdain. Mel and Rae both bow deeply when approaching Jin, who doesn’t pay any mind, but that doesn’t stop them from eyeing him as they turn to look over their shoulders at him.

Once the girls have gathered all the luggage, Miss ushers the guests inside, directing them either to their rooms or to the parlor.

V’s friends proceed to do so as they head upstairs with the Faegel close behind. They each carry multiple suitcases and bags draping over their shoulders and necks, almost on the verge of teetering over. Beside you, the blindfolded man nudges V’s arm where they share a silent conversation to which V nods and they walk to the sitting room. Now it’s just you, Lhaine, and the pink haired man left.

“Perhaps I should assist you with that, it appears rather heavy for you,” the man notes to Lhaine who’s cautiously taking her time up the steps. The heavy trunk is high enough that she has to peek over the top, but she vigorously shakes her head at him.

“Unnecessary, sir,” she grunts as she adjusts her grip on the diamond-encrusted chest. “It’s easily manageable.”

The man watches her tentatively feel for the next step before putting her weight forward. He shrugs. “If you insist, but there better not be so much as a scratch on my things, short one,” he warns, patting her back lightly.

Though you’re not next to her, you can hear the jarring clack her teeth make before she bares the now sharp fangs at the man. She hisses lowly, her arms raising to hold the trunk above her, ready to throw it at his broad back.

You hurry up the stairs to Lhaine before she can launch the insanely expensive container. “Cursed one,” she hisses under her breath as you carefully put an arm around her. She glares at you, her eyes dilated to a deep black, but her red irises return upon noticing you.

“I don’t think Miss would approve of you breaking one of her guests,” you say.

“He’d regenerate,” she scoffs.

“What?” You ask, but she just shakes her head and reaches the top of the staircase, still holding the trunk above her head.

“Later,” is all she says and briskly marches around the corner, heading straight for his guest room. She stands in front of the door, arms shaking with the heavy chest like a weapon as she scowls in disgust at the door, ready to shatter the wooden barrier.

“At least let me get the door,” you say.

Again, she shakes her head. “I got it,” she insists when you give her a dry look. “I won’t shatter the door,” she reassures. Lhaine huffs while you continue to stare. “Or him either,” she amends. Lifting her leg, she kicks harshly with the ball of her foot three times and then turns the handle, though it’s a bit of a struggle as she hops on the other to keep her balance until the door swings open on its own.

You both go inside and see the pink haired man lounging on the arm chair, his bare feet dangling over the edge. He smirks, waving his toes at you. “I’m clever with my feet too.”

Narrowing her eyes, she mumbles under her breath and lowers the trunk to the ground, letting it hit the concrete floor with more force than necessary though the man doesn’t complain.

“Thank you for your services,” he says, sounding mostly genuine, though there’s some haughtiness as well.

You bow, slightly bumping Lhaine and she eventually does the same before you’re urging her out the door and away from any more potential objects to throw at him. When you return to the servants’ quarters, there’s no time for you to ask her anything before Miss ushers everyone to various rooms of the castle to help decorate for the upcoming celebration. Given multiple things ranging from streamers and ribbons to flowers and even some candles, you’re directed first to the main hall and then the ballroom.

                                                                    ~*~

The next day is just spent cleaning and decorating. Chef asks if you can get the correct tablecloth as well as the centerpieces set up for the dining room.

As you enter the dining room to change the tablecloth and dishes, you’re startled when you see two figures at the head of the table. Jeon sits in the chair with his eyes closed; RM standing directly behind him. A wine glass filled with a dark liquid is on the table. You rush to turn back around, only to be stopped by RM snapping his fingers, causing you to instantly freeze in place. He puts a finger to his lips and motions for you to come forward. Hesitant, you take a slow step, moving forward until he stops you mere feet away from them.

Jeon senses the quickened flow of your blood, his nose twitching in your direction and you see his fingers flex, but remains very still. “Resist,” RM quietly orders him as he reaches for the glass. Lifting it up, he holds it just in front of the young vampire’s face, who swallows thickly, his tongue wetting the seam of his lips. A minute passes until the goblet is put to his mouth. “You may drink,” RM says as he tilts the drink back.

Jeon eagerly gulps, the blood leaving a slight trail down his cheek, his hands gripping the glass tightly until he finishes. His thumb stops the blood dripping from his face and retraces the red line back to his mouth where he then licks the sticky appendage, savoring the flavor.

Your sudden inhale breaks his reverie, gleaming ruby eyes pinpointing your trembling form. RM places his hand on his shoulder, tightening in warning before nodding at you. “Come back in fifteen minutes or so and we’ll be gone,” he says.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, but he shakes his head.

“You didn’t know. Besides, a challenge is good for maintaining his self-control,” the vampire tells you, patting the other’s stiff shoulder.

Bowing to them, you head back to the kitchen and hear RM murmuring to Jeon. “Well done. I see much improvement this time.”

Your next encounter with V’s friends comes when you’re setting the flowers for the console tables in the hall and library. While carrying two of the vases in your arms, you head into the library and find the man with black hair reading on one of the sofas. He doesn’t look up when you approach to put the vase of coral and black roses on the table beside him.

Subconsciously, you glance at him and find yourself unable to look away. You’re enraptured by him, the sharp angle of his jawline, even his hands that grip the book, the veins that run along his skin, and your eyes travel back up to his smooth lips. You don’t understand your sudden desires, but you find yourself leaning closer, wanting to be near him. Your eyes then flicker upwards and the man stares back at you, piercing dark chocolate eyes that are almost pitch black. He says nothing though you’re practically on top of him, then something soft tickles your lips. The touch of the black petals is enough to break you free from your reverie and you gasp, instantly jerking away.

Realization finally filters into your brain, embarrassment encapsulating you. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s alright,” he says, his deep voice calming to you. He holds the rose between his fingers and then you notice a white and yellow butterfly perched atop his head. “I seem to have that effect on people.”

You bow, apologizing yet again for your actions and quickly set the other vase before rushing out of the library.

“So are you going to tell me now?”

“Tell you what?” Lhaine asks, wrapping the black satin ribbon around the staircase handles while you do the same with the coral ribbon. After your strange experiences with V’s friends, you need to ask her before you unknowingly do something rash.

“About the prince’s friends. Specifically, about the one with black hair and why I had the sudden urge to kiss him.” It hasn’t even been more than a couple of hours yet you’re still reeling from that experience of desire.

“Suga? Yeah, don’t do that,” she warns, bending down to loop the ribbon through the staircase columns.

“I know,” you huff, weaving  the coral ribbon around the black one. “I’m not going to try and make out with the guests.” Crouching, you unroll more of both fabrics while she continues pulling and slowly working her way up the stairs.

“No, I mean don’t ever kiss him because it will literally kill you. That’s his power.”

“Oh.” Of course it would. And yet there’s a small part of you that’s disappointed, an urge wanting to push your limits, even if your life was at stake. Deadly attraction at its finest.

“He’s an incubus,” she explains. “It’s his aura. He automatically attracts people to him.”

“That explains a lot.” Why else would you possibly still be thinking about his hands?

“Yeah, don’t worry, it happens to the best of us.”

“And the butterfly?” You wonder, standing up to continue tying the ribbons.

“Another one of his powers. He can summon and control butterflies,” she sees you about to speak and cuts you off, “don’t consider that cute or anything, when there’s a whole swarm blocking off your senses, it gets freaky.”

“Good to know, don’t mess with him or his butterflies.”

“Yep. And I already sense your wave of questions so let’s make this quick. There’s him and you’ve already met the two vampires. Jay, the red head, is an extremely skilled marksman with the four elements at his disposal. Depending on where his arrows strike the body, you’ll either be tangled in vines, set on fire, or drowned.”

“So earth, fire, and water?”

She thinks for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I think it’s vines for the limbs, fire for the head, and water for the torso. Something like that,” she shrugs, tugging you along with the ribbon and you hurry to catch up. She’s already nearing the top while you’re still halfway on the stairs.

“And air?”

“His natural element. All his arrows move with incredible speed, so that’s always in effect. It’s very wicked to see in person,” she smiles impishly. “Min, blondie in the blindfold, is an oracle. He basically sees the future, but it’s always changing every second, so it’s hard to follow at times.”

“Is he blind?”

Having finished with her ribbon, she comes down the stairs to help you. “Yeah. His visions do help when it comes to the immediate future, but only short glimmers. For example, if he were in the same room as us, he could see where we’d be in a few seconds and it would most likely happen. Now Miss, who’s not here, he could see multiple possibilities, but it would be harder to pinpoint which one she chooses  since it wouldn’t directly tie into his own actions and future.”

The flooding of information causes you to wait a second as the words process in your head. “Wow, that’s. . .”

“Complicated?” She finishes for you. “Definitely.”

When she doesn’t say anything more, you mention the last one. “And your friend? The guy with pink hair?”

Her upper lip curls and she yanks the ribbon with more force than necessary, almost tearing the fabric with her nails. “Tch. He’s not my friend.”

“Sure seemed like it with the way you tried throwing his things at him and almost breaking down the door.”

“That’s Jin,” is all she says.

You look at her expectantly waiting. “Okay, so what’s his power?”

“Immortality, I guess.”

“Oh come on,” you grab the ribbon, forcing her to stop her jerky movements, “there’s more than that.”

She sighs deeply and it turns into a groan by the end. “Jin’s not a demon exactly. He used to be human until he was cursed. He’s very narcissistic, hence the mirrors,” she rolls her eyes, “and when he pissed off the wrong demon they made good use of that. Now every full moon, his body shatters  into pieces only to be rebuilt again. The cycle continues until he figures out how to break the curse.” “They didn’t tell him?”

She gives you a who cares look and takes the ribbon once more to continue working. “Well, if they did, he’s never said or admitted it.”

“That sounds horrible.”

She nods with a grimace, fingers slipping the coral ribbon through the black one. Pushing her hair back, she bites the inside of her cheek. “It’s extremely painful from what I know and he’s got to make sure he doesn’t lose body parts. When the full moon approaches, some limbs will start breaking up until the actual night.”

“Is that what that giant box is for?”

She scratches her neck, thinking for a moment. “Yeah, I think so, but that’s his business. Anyway, those are the prince’s friends.”

“Good to know,” you say, helping her finish and eventually getting to the top where the black ribbons are dangling lifelessly on the last stair column.

“How does she expect us to tie these without looking like bows?” She  growls, angrily tugging on the ribbons. “Bows are disgusting, yes, but they’re simple,” she complains.

You take her ribbons and entwine them with yours. “Let me see if I can try,” you say as you tie them.

When you finish, Lhaine touches the silk flower, tracing the coral petals and black leaves. “It looks good. I think Miss will approve,” she hums.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m going with, so go ahead and do the other side.” She motions to the bare staircase on the opposite end.

Gathering the rolls of ribbons, you stand upright and feel your sore body crack after being hunched down for so long. “You’re just sick of tying them,” you laugh, “but I still appreciate the compliment.” You duck when she threatens to throw one of the candles at you.

Later that night, you shuffle into your room and see a box lying on your bed. There’s a white note on top and you pick it up. As a thank you for your excellent assistance and wonderful company, I hope this gift is to your liking, little dove    - V

Gently setting the note aside, you lift the lid and see a folded sapphire dress. You pick it up and the end easily reaches the floor, satin fabric brushing the top of your feet. It’s a simple strapless design with miniscule rhinestones decorating the bodice while the bottom half spreads out in a flourish. Smiling to yourself, you go to hang it in your closet, not wanting it to get wrinkled.

After showering, you’re reading the demon book some more when there’s a knock on your door. Standing up, you open it expecting Lhaine or one of the floating sisters, but are surprised to find Jeon. Automatically, you still, but his posture is slightly more relaxed compared to the  other times you’ve seen him.

“Good evening, sir,” you murmur with a bow.  

There’s a folded piece of paper within his grasp and his fingers fiddle with the corners. “This is for you,” he says, holding the sheet out to you. “It’s important.”

You take and unfold it, but you’re unable to tell what’s been drawn. Two black lines are on either side of the page while the rest of the paper has been colored green. A red dot is near the upper right hand corner.

“Thank you,” you tell him. “May I ask what it is?”

“It’s something you need for her,” he softly answers.

“For her?” You look at the paper and then back to him. “You mean my sister?”

He  points a finger to the red dot before he carefully reaches up cautiously  and pats your shoulder in what you assume to be comforting. Then he vanishes, leaving a breeze of cold air in his wake.

You close the door and sit back down at your desk, studying the drawing. A shriek sounds from outside and you jump, quickly folding and shoving the paper in the book before going to the window. Pulling the curtains back, you peer into the darkness, the only light coming from the dim lamp posts stationed near the garden. You’re thankful that you at least don’t have a clear view of the forest, but unfortunately, you can still see the edge of the treeline.

Just like the other night, all you can see are strange shadows winding between the trees. A figure rushes from the forest only to be yanked back. The branches violently shake, but nobody else comes out.

                                                                 ~*~

“Is it really necessary for me to come with you?” You ask, following close behind Lhaine. The two of you carry trays of snacks to the guest rooms, delivering them to the prince’s friends. Your muscles ache even though the platter isn’t heavy. Since the party is today, Miss has been expanding your list of chores and between cleaning, decorating, and ensuring the guests are comfortable, you’re ready for the day to be over.

“Yes,” she insists, having no trouble balancing the overly wide platters in both hands while you carry the one.

“Why exactly don’t you like this guy?”

“He’s pompous,” she states simply.

“Surely he’s not that bad compared to some of the other visitors.”

“Yes, he is,” the words flying out her mouth before you’re even finished with your sentence.

You shrug. “I guess you know them better than I do,” you say as you knock on the door. There’s a muffled response giving you permission to enter and upon going inside you see Jin, Suga, and Jay all sitting in various parts of the bedroom.

While Jin sits at the vanity massaging some clear liquid on his face, a butterfly flutters above his head before returning to its owner. Suga holds his hand out so the white and yellow butterfly can land on his fingertips. Others fly around the space, landing on the chiffon curtains or swirling in intricate patterns near the ceiling. At the foot of the bed, Jay organizes his arrows in specific groups though you can’t identify the pattern. He greets you with a warm smile, eagerly taking the tray of food from Lhaine. She then immediately whisks passed you to give Suga his meal while you go to Jin.

Setting his down on the vanity, you’re careful to avoid the various mirrors positioned all along the table. He sends a pleasing grin your way until it fades upon noticing you before it morphs into a polite smile. “Thanks,” he says. “Didn’t feel like gracing me with your presence, eh?” He asks, looking over his shoulder at Lhaine’s back.

“I hope it’s to your liking, sir,” she tells Suga, completely ignoring him. The black haired man nods silently in appreciation and removes the lid from the platter. “How’s your sister been doing?” She asks.

He glances up at her briefly and tosses a grape into his mouth. “Ji? She’s well, just been busy.”

“Please send her my regards. I’ve missed having her visit my dreams,” Lhaine says with a small smirk.

He nods slightly in response, stroking the butterfly resting on the back of his hand before letting it fly into the air.

“Dreams are realistic to a certain extent, surely there are better options here,” Jin scoffs to which she snorts in response.

Lhaine walks over to him and puts her hands on the vanity, leaning close to his ear she whispers loud enough for the rest of the room to hear. “I like them sturdy.”

The pink haired man stares at her incredulously, his ears flushing red. “And you don’t think I fit that criteria?” He asks, shifting closer towards her and she arches a brow.

“Your face is already cracking, Jin,” Suga points out, not even sparing a glance in their direction.

At his comment, you then notice a thin and faint crack along the side of his cheek, as though he were made of stone. His scarlet ears deepen to a dark crimson as he scowls at the man who doesn’t pay him any attention, merely watching the butterflies swirl around his arm. “My condition doesn’t affect my strength nor my stamina whatsoever.”

“Oh really? That’s not what happened last time because I distinctly remember your friend experiencing some, ahem,” she clears her throat, “issues.”

Both you and Jay’s widened eyes can’t look away from the scene unfolding, even Suga can’t stop the small huff of laughter from escaping his lips.

“Someone should learn to watch their fangs,” he grinds through his teeth. “Do you need another lesson, Ungoldil?” Jin croons softly, eyes pensively watching though the corner of his lips almost resist turning up in satisfaction.

You grab her by the arm when you see her lips peel back into a snarl, leading her towards the door before she can snap something back or get physical. “Please enjoy your food, gentlemen,” you say as they watch you leave and you’re thankful when you can pull the door shut, separating yourself from the two sets of curious eyes regarding Lhaine and Jin.

She  shakes off your hold and quickly heads downstairs while you run after her where she shoves the kitchen door open, causing it to bang harshly against the stone and almost swings back with full force at you. Chef snaps about being courteous, but your friend pays no mind, snatching some slices of meat and angrily tears into it as she heads to the servants’ quarters. Passing Miss’s office, you stop her in the hall upon finding it empty and nudge her into one of the small alcoves.

She won’t make it eye contact, focusing her attention to the red sconce light pulsating softly on the wall. As she rips another chunk out of the meat, you quietly wait, not saying anything. After a few minutes she eventually looks at you. “I wasn’t going to attack him if that’s what you’re afraid of,” she snaps, shifting uncomfortably as she leans against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I know,” you say calmly, “but you can’t deny that you thought about hitting him.” Smiling, you copy her movements and prop your back on the wall as well.

Her red eyes finally meet your own, surprise briefly peeking out from between the long strands of hair, and then she grins. “Maybe, though I’m not admitting to anything.”

“I’m not judging you, but you really don’t like him.”

She shrugs, taking another bite of the meat and chewing slowly this time. “He’s self-absorbed and annoying.”

“He does like looking into mirrors,” you admit, noting how many mirrors he had in his personal space.

“Honestly,” she huffs. Lhaine pushes her hair aside and finishes her food, chewing in silence.

You tap her shoulder with your hand and she glances towards you, her eyebrows raising curiously. “Are you actually okay?” You ask, voice hovering just above a whisper.

She nods. “Yeah, he just gets on my nerves. It’s nothing new.”

“So I saw. Did he call you something offensive? I couldn’t understand it,” you ask, vaguely remembering the odd word he said.

“It was just a term from the old Daemon language,” she reassures and ducks out from under the alcove. You walk with her back to the kitchen and she musters a quick apology for Chef as you both sit down for lunch. “So tell me about the dress.” She takes a bite of lettuce, eyeing you with interest.

“How did you know?” Your voice trailing off when she raises a brow.

“How do you think it got there?” She refutes, gulping down some water and then wiping the back of her hand against her mouth. “The prince asked me to deliver it to your room, so I did, and I only took a small peek. Enough to see blue, but that’s it. Little dove,” she whispers.

You mockingly slap her bicep  and she playfully groans, rubbing the red skin. “So you decided to look through my things?”

She innocently shrugs and pinches another slice of meat between her fingers before daintily taking a bite from it. “Perhaps.” Risking a glance, she rolls her eyes at you. “Yes, but you’re the only I know who won’t behead me for such a thing. Besides, I happened to see the note and put two and two together.”

“You’re not wrong,” you agree. “I don’t think there’s anything he’d give me that I’d hide from you.”

Lhaine stops chewing as she watches you closely with obvious suspicion. “Has he given you things already?”

“Perhaps,” you repeat, smugly taking a sip of water.

Her eyes widen and she pulls you forward, the both of you leaning against the counter. “I’m sorry, what?” She harshly whispers. “And why exactly haven’t you shared this important and exclusive information with me?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug helplessly, “I guess I didn’t think of it like that.” Then you tell her about the flowers he gave you after sneaking into his mother’s garden.

“I remember you using the pond, but I didn’t know about the flowers. And you say they’re his favorite? Plus, he gave you that dress,” she hisses. Her red eyes peer through her hair.

“What? Why are you giving me that look?” You laugh incredulously.

“That’s very nice of him.”

“It is,” you slowly add, not understanding what she’s getting at. She tears the strip of lettuce and eats it, flipping her hair back and crossing her legs as she dryly regards you. “Wait, you don’t actually think this is evolving into something more,” you groan.

“I’m just saying the two of you are sure getting comfortable with one another,” she states.

“V is—”

“And again we’re back to first name basis.”

“The prince,” you reiterate, can help me get home and save my sister. I consider us friends, sure, but I highly doubt it develops further than that. I mean, I can’t stay here. I don’t want to stay, not now or hopefully ever.”

“I was about to say, yes, you can stay, especially if you’ve been tricked by a demon. But I get it, this place isn’t exactly glorious paradise,” she sniffs, holding the remnants of her lettuce between her fingers distastefully before finishing it off. “I’m not judging your relationship or anything. “Fuck around if you want or bond with him and reign as Queen here, though I’m telling you now I demand a promotion. Either way, I don’t give a damn. I’m just making an observation, but we can be fickle, especially when it comes to relationships.”

You don’t even realize that your jaw was partially open until you go to speak, struggling for words. “First of all, I don’t think I’d last here at all.”

She’s quick to respond, but then she grimaces, her voice catching in her throat as she pauses to rethink her answer. “You could with time, but it wouldn’t be easy. Executions can be messy and I don’t know how squeamish you are.”

“Exactly, and I don’t want to know,” you sigh. “Regardless, I think the prince just wants someone he can trust and actually talk to here.” She shrugs yet again and there’s a pause, your conversation going quiet with only the sound of Chef chopping vegetables until voices approach from down the hall.

Lhaine glances towards the doorway and looks back to you with a smirk. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re better company than someone who only uses their mouth as a sexual stimulant,” she snorts. Her hair is yanked back from behind before her head is shoved forward and she’s nearly slammed into the table, but stops just short of it. She whips around, hissing angrily at Bren who screeches in return.

A loud thud echoes in the room when a butcher knife slams against the metal counter. “Don’t start!” Chef bellows, her hand tightly clutching a steak knife as she points it toward the two girls. “Another fight breaks out and I’ll add one of your limbs into the stew for tonight. I’m sure the guests would be interested in more protein.”

Mumbling a short apology, Lhaine gives a small bow just as Bren does and they glare at each other. Chef, now satisfied, returns her attention to the bubbling cauldron. When her back is fully turned, Bren forcefully shoves against Lhaine who kicks hard at her leg and she nearly stumbles into the other counter before righting herself.

“Spider bitch,” she mutters.

“Harpy bastard.”

The blonde’s lips curl menacingly, jawbone and nose briefly morphing into an arch before returning to normal. She stalks to the opposite side of the room where Mel and Rae are just as you hear the click of heels echoing from the hallway.

Dust ducks around the doorway and scurries over to Chef just as Miss rounds the corner, a clipboard tucked under her arm. She clears her throat, drawing everyone’s attention to her. “Since Hallow’s Evening is upon us, I want you all to make sure everything is prepared for the celebration tonight. Under no circumstances will any of you be leaving the premises. No one is allowed to participate in Siragar.”

A few grumbles from the Faegel are instantly silenced as Miss sends a stern glare in their direction. She grabs her clipboard and then returns to address everyone. “Since others will have participated in Siragar, the energy will be strong in many aspects.” Her grey eyes regard the Faegel as well as you and Lhaine in particular, suspicion clearly evident. “If any of you decide to engage in any activities, do so somewhere where you won’t be seen. Absolutely not in the ballroom or the throne room.” Miss’s gaze stays focusing on Lhaine long enough for your friend’s lips to press into a thin line before she glances briefly at you and then the Faegel. “You each have your own respective attire, so check on the guests and ensure everything is finalized. I will see you all tonight.” Bowing to her, the older woman snaps her fingers, promptly dismissing everyone before leaving.

As you all file into the hall, you nudge Lhaine in the ribs. “Care to explain what Hallow’s Evening is?”

She glances over at you. “Oh, it’s when us supernatural beings are able to become stronger and travel between our realm and the human realm,” she nonchalantly replies.

You yank her off to the side, pinching her arm with your nails and she whines in pain. “That’s Halloween! Why didn’t you tell me?”

She rubs her skin, now red with indents of your nails. “Sorry, I didn’t think about it. To be honest, I kind of forgot myself. We don’t always go all out here in the castle for Hallow’s Evening. Besides all you humans do is dress up funny and eat candy all night.”

“We have parties too.”

“Okay, I’m sorry for not thinking to mention it earlier,” she earnestly responds, looking you directly with her crimson  eyes.

“It’s fine, at least I know now and not during the event tonight.”

“True. Any more questions?” She asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Yeah, why is the theme coral and black and not orange and black?”

“Orange is hideous!”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not that bad,” you retort.

“Whatever. Anything else?”

The two of you start walking again while you think for a moment. “What’s Siragar?”

“Um,” she rubs the back of her head, playing with some of the strands of her ebony hair, “it’s basically when we can go bathe in the river of blood and souls to strengthen our abilities and our bodies. We can only do it on Hallow’s Evening, when the barrier between our worlds has weakened.”

Your hand rubs against your forehead, cringing at the thought of tonight. “Great,” you sigh, “so there’s going to be extra powerful demons tonight.”

“Yeah, pretty much. But it’s fine, you can probably sneak off before any fighting or sex begins.”

“That’s nice,” you mumble unenthusiastically before you remember something else. “Also why was Miss looking at you when talking about not being seen?”

She innocently shrugs though it’s undermined by her smirk. “I thought we were hidden well in the alcove.”

You laugh. “I’m guessing there’ll be a lot of that tonight?”

“Probably, but most will leave before things get wild. Too many demons fresh from bathing in blood isn’t a good idea. Too much power mixed with strengthened hormones could kill the mood and the party. Or turn into a giant orgy, which wouldn’t be the first time either.”

Coming into the main room, you see Jin and Suga ascending the stairs. RM and V are talking across the room with Jeon standing alert, but more at ease behind the older vampire.

“Wow,” you say, partially surprised, but also not really. “Do you pick the same people?”

She shakes her head. "It’s a bit hard, not everyone has a fuck buddy or anything like that. Us demons are fickle, remember? I used to just grab the first person I see and then move on to the next afterwards.”

“But not anymore,” you guess.

Her eyes follow the men on the second floor before they turn the corner. “Yeah, not anymore,” she sighs and then huffs in annoyance. “I guess I’ve softened up over time or something.”

“That doesn't have to be a bad thing,” you reassure her.

“Down here it is, but whatever. It does get lonely sometimes,” she admits, brushing her hair forward, so it remains covering her face.

You stop and she does as well, staring perplexedly at you when you wrap an arm around her body. She temporarily resists before letting herself lean against you, thin bones pressing against you. “Sap,” you hear her mumble and you giggle as you let go.

“Maybe so, but I just consider it being nice.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s appreciated,” she says, patting your back in return. “Hey, I’ll go check on the vampires if you want to check the rooms for the others.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” you tell her as she starts walking toward them.

They stop their conversation when Lhaine approaches. V notices you and smiles to which you do the same before heading towards the other rooms. Upon opening the door to the sitting room, you find Min sitting pensively on one of the loveseats. His back immediately stiffens upright and his head turns, staring directly at you.

“Ms. Y/N?” He asks softly. His bleach blond hair is a harsh contrast against the black blindfold and clothes he wears.

Clearing your throat, you step into the room, the door closing behind you with a gentle thud. “Yes, it’s me. I was just checking on you to see if there was anything you needed.”  You walk towards him and he motions for you to sit beside him on the velvet sofa. Going around it, you see the coffee table and a sketchbook lying open. The scrawling lines are heavy and it’s hard to determine what everything is supposed to be, but you think you see an apple in one corner. “You like to draw too?” You ask as you sit down.

“Yes. You enjoy it as well?”

“Oh no, I’m not good with things on paper. I just meant like your friend, Jeon.”

He nods in understanding. “Ah, yes, he showed me the drawing he was going to give to you.”

“Do you know what it means?”

His lips turn upwards, forming a sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid not. Even if I did, we’re not allowed to meddle in either of our talents. If I were to give a hint or answer, it could lead to his sign becoming void.”

“I see,” you say disappointed and turn to look at the chaotic shapes of his sketches again. “What about yours, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Mine aren’t any better,” he laughs humorlessly. His hand reaches out to trace the dark lead embedded on the paper. “Something I draw one minute could completely change the next. I just do this to try and make sense of it. The future is much too fast to ever see clearly.”

“Maybe you’ll be able to enjoy yourself tonight. I’m sure the ball will be exciting.” Your voice is encouraging though you plan on going back to your room the moment things get too heated or intense. You have no intentions of participating in any orgies or blood baths.

He grimaces, wincing at your words. “Exciting is an understatement,” he mumbles. His hands raise to rub the sides of his head and he shakes himself as though ridding some unpleasant thought. “Too many power hungry demons if you ask me.” Putting his hands down, he reaches to collect his book, but hits the pencil and it flings off the table.

You bend over to grab it, holding it out to him and he takes it, uttering a grateful thanks as he slides it inside the spiral binding. Smiling, you carefully touch the back of his hand without startling him though he merely watches you expectantly. “I hope your night goes well,” you say.

Min returns your smile though it’s still rather somber. “I wish the same for you.” He stands and heads to the door, but pauses at the edge of the sofa, hesitating. “Ms. Y/N?”

“Yes?”

He licks his lips, fingers tapping the wooden frame of the loveseat. The soft click of his nails are an unsteady staccato until he flexes his hand into a fist. “Red isn’t a good color for you. I’m sure you’re already tired of seeing it everywhere.”

“Just a bit, but I think my eyes are getting used to it. And actually I’ll be wearing blue tonight.”

“That’s good. I’m sure you’ll look lovely.” He opens the door, glancing at you once more. “Enjoy your evening, Ms. Y/N,” he says before going outside.

Later on, you’re in your room with Lhaine as you both get ready for the ball. She slips on the simple black dress and you help fasten it in the back though she has to guide you on how to tie the straps correctly. It takes a good ten minutes before you finally finish and she tosses her long hair back.

“Remind me to teach how to tie a dress,” she says, sitting on your bed to tie her shoes. Her foot slides into the heels effortlessly avoiding the straps as she ties the black ribbon around her ankle.

She completes one and moves onto the other while you cautiously step into your own dress. “Hey, we use zippers to make it easier.”

“Those are boring.”

“They’re convenient,” you fire back, struggling to tug the fabric up your body.

“Too simple,” she says and walks over to you. Her heels click sharply on the stone as she stands behind you, gripping the dress so she can pull it until it fits comfortably on you. “Take a deep breath.”

“Why?” You ask, but do so anyway. The dress tightens around you, but enough to where you still have room to breathe properly.

From behind you can feel her fingers looping the ribbons into place, the fabric lightly brushing against the skin of your back. “So you don’t faint from lack of oxygen, obviously. If you have to be carried out like some damsel, you know Miss will be pissed.”

“True. But I don’t know how you’re going to dance in heels on this floor,” you reply, motioning to her feet.

When she’s done, she turns you around and does a short dance, feet smoothly gliding on the floor. She even does a quick twirl, coming to a stop with her arms crossed. “It’s not that bad, trust me. Now let’s see,” she steps back to stare at you, tongue pressing against her cheek. “We can’t wear fancy jewelry, but ribbon is acceptable.”

“Not too much, I hope.”

“No way!” She scoffs, her lip curling in disgust. “I’m accessorizing you for Hallow’s Evening, not some stupid tea party.” Grabbing a blue ribbon, she wraps it around your wrist, twisting at the ends so it curls.

Digging into her small jewelry box, she finds a thin black ribbon and ties it around her neck. “What do you think?”

Glancing in the mirror, you see your reflection as the scattered rhinestones glitter around your torso. “The dress is pretty and the ribbon works. I think you look gorgeous,” you tell her.

Lhaine extends her leg, causing the slit in her dress to reveal her hip. She nods in satisfaction and grins when looking up at you. “Thanks. You’re looking pretty hot too. Enough to catch the eye of a prince, I’d say.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laugh. You’re able to get your shoes on without trouble since they’re not as tall and only have one strap to fasten around your ankle.

“Are you ready?” She asks, checking the mirror a final time as she pulls more of her hair forward to cover her face.

“I think so. What do we do when we get there?” You ask when she opens your door. You walk out into the hall, the clicks of your shoes reverberating with each step, making your way to the stairs.

“Blend, first of all. Act like we’re invisible, but be at the ready to serve. Once dinner is completed, clean fast, and then be at the ballroom.”

“We need to serve dinner?” You ask, not remembering that as part of the agenda for tonight.

She shakes her head. “No, the Faegel are taking care of that. We’re just going to clean up,” she reassures.

You descend the staircase, following close behind her and she takes you to the kitchen where Chef is there rushing to set desserts into little cups while Bren and the others quickly collect them before hurrying back into the dining room. From inside, you can hear boisterous laughter and cheering coming from the guests. Washing your hands, you assist Chef with plating the odd red gelatin, scooping it into the crystalline glasses to give to Lhaine who helps serve them.

When all the dessert has been delivered, you turn to the older cook in search of more work. “The prisoners haven’t received anything tonight, so they’re probably getting antsy by now,” she gruffly answers.

Grabbing the bucket, you load it up with the cans, adding a few more just in case and head downstairs, mindful of the chipped steps considering your current footwear. Reaching the bottom, you go inside and find all them standing up. Frantic hands stick through the bars, their palms slamming harshly against the metal. You quickly hand out the gruel and a few push and shove each other as they try to take the others’ share.

Hakyeon elbows his way between those fighting and wordlessly holds his hand out. “Hope you weren’t waiting long,” you tell him and he snatches the can before cracking it open to take a drink.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he sighs, watching the others curse and argue. “Long enough, but I’m sure the kitchen is busy with the lovely guests,” he hisses distastefully.

“A bit,” you say, handing out the few extra cans you had packed.

He takes another container, lifting it in thanks while continuing to drink the first. “Figured as much. Also I must say you do look quite wonderful in the dress, I’m surprised Miss allowed you to get away with it. Of course, even she has to follow what the royal family says, yes?” He grins, sharp teeth on full display.

“I’m not even going to ask.”

“Then you shouldn’t ask anything when I say to be on guard tonight.” The demon’s tone has changed completely; all traces of humor having vanished.

“I will, but what makes you say that?”

“Given the amount of powerful demons up there that have surely participated in Siragar, there’s always the possibility of war or sex, depending on the mood.”

“Thanks for the warning,” you say, turning to head back to the stairs, but his hand grabs your arm.

His bright red eyes regard you gravely, the grip of his fingers digging into your bones. “I don’t say this lightly when I say take care. Even the others down here are more erratic than usual.” His eyes seem to fog over as he thinks about something and then they’re returning to normal. “Just, be cautious and make sure to talk with others. I think some of your old friends might be here as well.” He gives your hand one last squeeze before releasing you.

Murmuring a small thank you, you watch him carefully though he says nothing else and goes back to his meal. You head upstairs, your footsteps eerily echoing in the corridor and you feel your hair stand on end until you return to the kitchen.  Hakyeon’s warning reiterating in your mind, you put the bucket away and Lhaine tugs you along to help clean up all the dishes. After every single utensil, glass, and plate is collected, you go to the ballroom next. Music can be heard through the concrete walls though you can’t tell what kind is currently playing. She opens the doors wide enough for you to both slip inside and you’re hit with the full array of sounds consisting of people and music.

Inside the ballroom, all sorts of creatures either dance or mingle on the side together. Musicians are gathered at the front, merrily playing their classical instruments that nearly drown out the shouting and laughter. The resounding music is a fast-paced upbeat tune as couples dance around the room. Lhaine ushers you to the side where you go to stand in the far corner, continuing to observe everyone. About half of the guests are wearing intricate masks revealing their bloodshot eyes and parts of their lower face. Some have varying limbs such as wings, tails, or even hooves and horns. All range differently, the wings being mostly leather while some have feathers, and each with various colors. Those with hooves, seem to be similar from what you can tell, but the horns are different lengths and sizes. The tails are from other animal species as well.

Peering through the crowd, you catch a glimpse of the Queen standing off to the side with Dust who holds her hand while she twirls the little girl around, pure delight on both their faces. The little girl’s black dress contrasts well with the Queen’s white gown that is laced with light pink. It’s the first time you've seen her so at ease and full of joy compared to her usual stoic nature. Suddenly there’s a sharp pinch in your arm as Lhaine draws your attention away from them to somewhere else.

Looking over across the space, you see V and Min talking brightly to each other. While Min wears a red suit and tie that matches his now lace red blindfold, V’s suit is more muted, his white button down beneath a grey overcoat. The prince says something to him and he laughs loudly, briefly covering his mouth with his hand. When he composes himself he leans toward him and whispers something to him.

V scans the room, his gaze traveling through the crowd until his eyes eventually find yours. And then he’s walking towards you. The prince weaves between groups of people and there’s no time to prepare yourself before he stands in front of you.

“Your highness,” you say, bowing along with Lhaine.

“Ms. Y/N, Ms. Lhaine, good to see you this evening,” he greets warmly. “You both look lovely. I hope you’re enjoying yourselves tonight.”

“Thank you. Hopefully you are too.”

“I am.” He hesitates slightly before clearing his throat. “Ms. Y/N, would you care to dance with me? If I’m not interrupting that is,” he says, looking first to you and then Lhaine.

“No, no, go right ahead, Your Highness,” Lhaine insists, taking the initiative to lightly shove you forward.

Smiling shyly, you take his outstretched hand and let him lead you to a spot somewhere in the middle of the floor. Unsurely, you lift your arms and wrap them around his neck while he rests his hands against your waist. The music has calmed to a slow melody, everyone swaying languidly to the rhythm.

“Do you dance, Ms. Y/N?”

“Not really, no. But I think I can follow along.” Thankfully it’s not difficult to keep up, merely staying in sync with the prince’s movements as you step in measured turns.

“Have I mentioned you look incredibly beautiful tonight?”

“Yes, you have, thank you. You look handsome as well.”

“That’s very much appreciated. I will say though that it can be stifling at times,” he admits, lifting his shoulders to adjust himself.

Your fingers tap the back of his neck and you feel him shiver slightly. “Are your wings feeling cramped?”

“Just a bit, but it’s not a problem. Give it an hour or so and everyone will be antsy to rid themselves of any civility. Perhaps even sooner judging by the state of some,” he notes, observing the room.

You glance around and see a couple dancing not too far from you. The woman rapidly blinks her bloodshot eyes, her hands gripping the man’s shoulders while his head leans near the crook of her neck. He bites and licks the skin, causing her to giggle excitedly.

“I heard things could get intense.”

The corners of V’s mouth lift slightly. “Yes, they usually do. Sometimes it goes well, other times not so much. Brawls are the messiest and most difficult to clean up.” His upper lip curls at his words as he reminisces to whatever times he remembers.

“I can only imagine,” you say, not wanting to know any explicit details.

“It’s rather uncommon, if that’s any comfort,” he reassures.

“It is. Are you planning on participating in any of the activities?” You ask, the words coming to a crawl at the end, unsure if it’s appropriate or not.

“No, not this time. I didn’t even join in Siragar hence no wild scarlet eyes.” He motions to his eyes, remaining the same warm chocolate brown as usual. “It’s not an issue really. So long as everyone else is entertained, that’s all that matters.”

Mostly everyone is reacting similarly to the couple, but in different variations. Though a few are glaring and even seem to be hissing quietly to one another. You notice the King talking with Sir and some other man with sharpened horns protruding from the top of his head, the latter being the only one fully at ease. Hard creases form along the King’s forehead as he pays no interest to whatever the man says, Sir being the one to engage in the conversation.

V notices you staring.

“My father isn’t one for celebrations like this, but mother is insistent and she has fun with the people.”

“She seemed really happy when I saw her.”

You feel his tightened shoulders relax when you mention her, a gentle smile appearing on his face.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He spares a glance at the King and his facial expression turns forlorn. “If father would stop working, maybe it could be the same, but I have my doubts.”

“He looks like he could use a break,” you say, watching the King who looks ready to go on a murder spree any minute. The glowing of his red and black eyes are ablaze as he silently fumes in annoyance, the man and Sir still conversing. “Who’s he with?”

“You’ve already had an unpleasant encounter with Sir, the collector of souls. The other man is a senator. They’re most likely discussing policies for all I know.”

V twirls you at that moment and you spin around, your dress swishing in the wind. You laugh slightly, surprised with yourself, but the prince warmly smiles as well. Staring ahead, just over his shoulder you notice the Faegel talking to one another while they glare at you and the prince. Just beside them, you catch a glimpse of a man with a twisted neck.

“The Crooked Man is here too?” You ask, having trouble swallowing the lump in your throat.

When you turn again, he inconspicuously steals a glance at him. “I don’t think he’s still angry. His leg seems better at least.”

“Not helping,” you hiss. Risking another peek in his direction, you watch how he eyes the crowd, observing everyone’s movements. Your eyes lock with his blue and green socketed eyes, a grin stretching across his face while you manage something more along the lines of a grimace, shivers prickling on your back.

“He won’t try and approach you.”

“I might need to though.”

“Why?”

“Just something about his forest. I’m just curious,” you say.

“Is there some way I can help?” He asks.

Before you reassure him that it’s fine, someone taps your shoulder. You turn to find Rae standing beside you, timidly clasping her hands together. Her black dress quivers as her right foot taps rapidly on the stone. “Would you like to dance, Your Highness?” She asks, hand reaching for her braided red hair as she pulls it to the front of her shoulder.

“Are you asking for yourself or for Bren, truthsayer?” The prince wonders, focusing directly on the girl who instantly freezes.

She blinks, her shaking fingers playing with her braid. “Mmm,” she hums, the words catching in her throat, “Bren, Your Highness,” she eventually spits, wincing once answering. Off to the side, you see that Bren is seething, fists clenching her dress tightly.

“It’s okay, I should go anyway,” you interject, pulling away from the circle of V’s arms. “I don’t want to keep you from dancing with others.” He opens his mouth, but you shake your head and give a short bow. “Thank you for the dance,” you tell him before quickly turning and leaving.

The Crooked Man isn’t where he was originally, so you make your way through the crowd, passing by Bren and Mel, picking up a little of their conversation.

“You should’ve just gone instead of her!” Bren snaps to Mel, who rolls her eyes, neither paying you any attention as you pass by. She huffs upon receiving no response and storms off, attempting to calm herself while walking towards the prince.

Then you see the man’s twisted neck in the far corner. Carefully avoiding the dancing mass of people, you slowly make your way to him until someone bumps into you.

“My apologies, sir,” you say, glancing up only to find him staring down at you.

“It really is a shame, Ms. Y/N,” he sighs, smoothing his tied hair though no strand is out of place.

You’re frozen, not trusting his calm demeanor for a second, and when your brain regains control of your body, you move to step around him until he blocks your way.

Sir holds his hands up in surrender. “Let me be clear when I say that I hold no grudge against you.”

“That’s nice,” you curtly respond, but he again stops you.

“I’m not finished. If you were to ever grow tired of this place, you need only ask and we can come to an agreement. No contracts whatsoever.”

“I’m not interested.”

His bloodshot eyes narrow just before closing. “Understood, I had to ask regardless,” he says, opening his eyes again. “Have a good rest of your evening, Ms. Y/N.”

“You as well,” you murmur, finally going around him and continuing towards the Crooked Man.

When you approach him, his neck turns, creaking while doing so and you bow once in front of him. “Good evening,” you say.

His multicolored eyes languidly roll to look at you, his lips curl into that familiar eerie grin. “Hello,” he rasps.

“I’m sorry about before.”

“It’s fine.” He slowly pats his leg, now without any protruding bones. “All healed.”

“I wanted to ask, have noticed anything odd in your forest recently?”

His neck pops, the vertebrae clicking from the movement, head turning to each side. “No.”

“Have you seen or heard about anything coming near or possibly inside the castle gates?”

Again, his neck crackles some more when he shakes his head.

“Nothing suspicious at all?”

“Can’t be suspicious if they’re already inside,” he wheezes, decaying breath fanning your face and you do your best not to cough, clearing your throat instead.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

The Crooked Man’s eyes slide up, fixating on to the bustling groups of people. You watch them too, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Among the dancing couples, you see Lhaine and Jin in the middle. Lhaine smirks up at him and he does the same to her, letting her twirl as her lithe figure moves with ease. The music gets faster, the tempo increasing the speed of the dance and everyone follows along.  

A red light suddenly catches your attention. It’s difficult to pinpoint and you think it’s someone’s jewelry reflecting off the crystal chandelier until you see the reflection in one of the metallic vases on the drink table. Glancing up, you see a hooded figure partially hidden behind a pillar on the balcony above holding a gun. You follow the red light only to see it pointing directly at V’s back as he stands talking with his friends.

You react without thought as you shove people aside, ignoring their grunts and curses while you rush towards the prince who remains completely unaware. Adrenaline surges in your veins and you desperately run forward, colliding into him just as a loud crack pierces the air.

The force of your projection has you falling towards the ground, your shoulder aching from the impact, but you’re caught by the waist before you hit the cobblestone. Head hanging low, you suddenly see crimson dripping to the floor, liquid pooling on the grey stone. It takes all your effort to raise your head and you see everyone staring with bloodlust deep in their red eyes before chaos erupts as they begin shoving and fighting each other, screams and roars sounding all around.

And then your body is lifted as you float into the air.

———

<— Previous | | Next —>

“Do humans typically enjoy studying us?” He’s watching you now and you do your best to remain composed.

“Some, but not many,” you answer, diligently focusing your task by watching the feathers collect dust from inside the leather lampshade, “probably not enough to convert them into worshippers.” Despite your low voice, you know he hears by the intensity of his watchful eyes, even as you fix your own gaze to the traces of red liquid flowing along the lines of wires.

Only when he snorts do you finally move, placing the lamp back down and adjusting the soft, circular shade before turning to look at him. “As if we need more worshippers,” he chuckles to himself. “No, I was referring to a different use.” He catches the obvious confusion on your face and turns his attention to the lamp.

You wrench away, stumbling over the rug beneath you as you stare at the tanned lampshade. The smooth, unmarred sensation could still be felt on your fingers even though you’re frantically wiping your hands on your uniform. It shouldn’t be surprising and yet, that isn’t the most concerning to you. What’s concerning is the part of you wondering how you didn’t recognize the texture, especially since this place seems to be almost entirely decorated by human remains.

“Do you really need that much skin and bone?” You swallow thickly.

He looks at you and understanding dawns across his face. “Ah, it’s not so much the material that’s needed, but rather the blood coursing through it.” Lifting the leather lampshade to show the luminescent inner workings, you watch what you now recognize as blood flowing through the wires. “It’s a necessity, you see.”

Tentatively, you lean towards it and observe the blood streaming inside the mechanism to provide light. Questions circulate your mind and yet all you ask is, “Why blood?”

V shrugs. “It provides great ambience and combined with a bit of craft along with our reagents, it lasts relatively long.”

“Is it all human blood?”

“Most of it is, I believe. But I’m sure there’s also some animal blood mixed in as well.” His fingers stroke the sides of the covering and you look away, disgust viable on your face.

“Do you really have to pet it like that?” You huff.

He stops. Pulling his hand away, he intertwines his fingers and stares up at you. “It bothers you.”

“A little bit, yeah. How are you okay with this? Even if you’re not human, that used to be a person.”

“I’m aware.”

“Do you just not care then?”

“It doesn’t matter because this person’s body is serving another purpose now.”

“Don’t you think it’s disrespectful to do?”

“Is it not similar to how a hunter stuffs and displays an animal? This is a mere decoration,” he states.

“But. . .it’s different. Us humans can’t just do that to each other, to us it’s wrong and cruel. I’m not really a fan of taxidermy, but they’re animals and we’re human.”

A wet splat sounds beside you as Ink appears with a stack of books. “Exactly. Humans are just animals to us.” He hands them to the prince, who takes them and inspects the bindings. “Your kind are lesser.”

“Still, we’re not the same species, but there are some similarities between us.” Your poor attempt of reasoning is disregarded as Ink suddenly materializes on top of the side table.

He leans close, glowing white eyes piercing with contempt, his lips curling into a snarl. “Similarities? Just because your kind doesn’t display your own dead, you think we don’t either? Every body has a use. Doesn’t matter what kind it is, if there’s a purpose then it will be served. Mine included.” Ink holds his hands close to your face, fingers outstretched. On the right, you count four fingers and on the left only three.

You say nothing, your tongue immobile inside your mouth.

“What? No questions?”

“I didn’t want to be rude,” you whisper.

He rolls his eyes. “Oh please,” he snorts before waving his left hand in your face. “These two are currently sitting in a bottle, so a senator can use it for his pretty red writing quill. And this one,” he continues, switching to the other hand, “is floating in a glass paperweight on the King’s desk. Just like that, we have one body with two other uses, besides my own.”

“Does it make you angry?”

As if the air is sucked from the room, your muscles stiffen upon watching the whites of eyes glint pitch black for a short second, but it seems like an eternity. His face comes closer until his nose nearly touches yours. “Doesn’t matter,” he hisses, “multiple people are finding a purpose for it. I’m just sharing the wealth.”

“Don’t you wish you could keep your body intact? Or at least choose where the pieces go?”

He smiles, though it’s unpleasant, a maniacal sneer to say the least. “Sure,” he laughs, “I’d rather be on public display in et Voluptatum Dolorem, but that’s not happening anytime soon.”

A whoosh fills the room and the library instantly descends into darkness as a curtain of shadows fall over the both of you.  “That’s enough, Ink,” V reprimands, the prince now standing tall, his ebony wings spread wide. He’s still, almost a statue if it weren’t for the faint tremors radiating across his form. The torn remains of his shirt slide down his shoulders, revealing his collarbones and back.

You and Ink back away, the boy jumping off the table before giving the prince a deep bow. “Forgive me, Your Highness, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The prince shakes his head. He shuts the book he was inspecting and sets it on the table. “It’s fine,” he replies with a smile though the haunted look in his eyes says otherwise. “I should go change.” He attempts to collect the shredded remains of his clothes though there’s not much left.

His wings stretch out, clipping the human lamp and causing it to tip over. The metal base clangs loudly against the cobblestone, jarring all three of you. V curses, forgetting about the remnants of his clothes as he pulls his wings inward, folding them tightly before walking past you and Ink. Opening the door, he stumbles briefly as his wings get caught in between the small gap. When it closes, you hear a thump in the hall before the sound of another door opens and shuts, leaving behind only silence.

Ink is the first to move, picking up the fallen lamp and setting it back on the table. “I blame you,” he says.

“Why?” Your voice reverberating in the quiet room. “I’m not the one who mentioned something that clearly upsets him.”

“Yeah, but you ask too many questions about our home. Not to mention you constantly judge it.” He grabs the books V left behind and starts heading for the door.

“Here, I can take those,” you offer, holding your hand out.

Ink looks between you and your outstretched hand before sighing as he gives them too. “Fine. Just don’t read them; they’ll make your eyes bleed.”

You open your mouth, staring at the cover with odd symbols on the front. “For all I know, you could be lying, but I’m not curious enough, especially if it involves losing my eyeballs.”

Going out into the hall, you see the console table slightly angled outwards, the vases and decorative books haphazardly set. After righting the table and fixing the various objects, you walk up to the prince’s door before knocking three times.

Nothing.

Leaning your ear close to the wood, you don’t hear anything and wonder if he went somewhere else or just didn’t hear your knock. Pushing the door open, you carefully peek inside, finding his bedroom empty only to see him standing out on the balcony. The glass doors are shut and so you walk forward, setting the books on his desk before lightly rapping on the panes.

He jumps at the noise, feathered wings spreading out and banging harshly against the doors. Turning carefully, he opens the door and you step outside.

“You left your books in the library, so I just wanted to bring them. I left them on your desk.”

V nods. “Thank you. My apologies, I didn’t mean to leave abruptly like that,” he says, ruffling his hand through his blond hair. He pulls his wings inward and they fold tightly against his back.

“It’s fine,” you reassure. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m alright. I just. . .needed a moment. Normally hearing about that place doesn’t affect me too much,” he shakes his head, “apparently that was not the case today,” he sighs.

“It doesn’t sound pleasant,” is all you say, not wanting to prod about this place nor wanting to upset him further despite your range of questions.

“Eh, depends on who you ask,” he chuckles, gripping the railings tightly, his head downcast. “There are some who experience much pleasure when visiting the museum. Who wouldn’t want to come see the royal family’s descendants on full display?”

“Is that where your family goes when they die?” You ask, horrified at the notion of him lying immobile in a coffin as some morbid exhibition for all creatures to see.

“Well, not the whole body. Usually there’s a specific part chosen that is meant to showcase our power. In my case, it would be them,” he says, his black wings rippling before going still once more.

“Why?”

“To show our people the powers we possess. It’s a sign of strength so to speak.”

You walk forward and stand beside him, admiring his posturing and the magnificent wings that beat behind him. His stance alone is enough to evoke authority with ease. He raises his head, steadily looking ahead while his shoulders straighten and return to their confident position.

“And your family’s okay with this?”

“For my mother not so much,” he winces, keeping his gaze to the blood red horizon, “but father says it’s necessary to uphold the traditions as it ensures our bloodline remains in power.”

“I’m sorry, V,” you whisper, almost reaching a hand out to meet his on the railing, but pause at the last second.

He shifts his attention to you, an enthralling gleam in his chocolate irises. “You actually addressed me by my name. I don’t mind,” he reassures before you’re able to apologize and correct yourself, “it’s the others who will become suspicious if they catch you. But I won’t tell, little thing.”

“Thing?” You ask with a raised brow.

He blinks once, seeming to register his words. “Right, forgive me, I’d forgotten about our previous conversation. Well,” he sighs, “what shall I call you, little human?” He wonders, propping his chin in his hand while leaning an elbow against the railing.

“Well,” you reply, mimicking his posture on the handrail, “at least I’ve gone from a thing to a person. That’s fine by me, honestly. Any other name might piss off the wrong people.”

“True. I’m sure the demon world is the complete opposite compared to yours,” V says with a knowing smile.

You smile. “As far as terms of endearment, yes. Mostly we just call each other honey, baby, or something like that.”

V squints, distaste evident on his features. “That’s sickeningly saccharine,” he says, licking his lips as though he had just sucked on a lemon and the acidity was causing his mouth to curl inwards.

“Yours are basic and boring,” you jokingly fire back.

“We choose names that are simple.”

“And boring.”

He turns to you, an amusing smile playing on his lips. “Then what do you suggest I call you since all we have are such boring names?”

His question causes you to pause, any type of witty comeback you have flitting away from your mind. All you can do is stare blankly at him while he watches you in return. You shrug awkwardly. “To be honest, I don’t need a nickname. My name is just fine.”

“While your name is absolutely wonderful, I’m already used to calling you something different. It would be so strange for me,” he confesses pitifully.

“It hasn’t been that long since you’ve known me,” you laugh.

“No, but don’t I reserve the right as prince to call you by a special name?”

Crossing your arms, you rest your hip against the railing and stare drily at his casual smirk. “So you’re playing the royalty card now?” You sigh. “I don’t know. Something respectful, but also something where neither of us will be scrutinized by everyone.”

He stares intently at you, contemplating something he sees within your irises. “What about little dove?”

“Little dove?” The words roll off your tongue with ease. “It’s nice, but won’t others question it?” Surely, you don’t need any more scrutiny from the rest of the castle.

He playfully smiles. “It can be our little secret. The others don’t need to know,” his wings flutter at the notion and you can’t help but slowly grin as well.

“Okay, if you insist, Your Highness,” you laugh.

“Even if others do overhear, maybe it can signal them to refrain from causing trouble,” he notes with an underlying promise of retribution. “At least a name is less conspicuous compared to a tangible symbol,” his tone light, but his eyes narrow, focusing on whatever he’s thinking.

Shifting to the side to where you’re in his line of sight, you catch his attention and hold it. “Why does it matter if they try to cause trouble?”

He blinks a few times, swallowing once before answering. “There’s already enough trouble going on outside these walls, I’d rather not deal with any of it inside my own home. It’s tedious, not to mention pointless,” he scoffs, shaking his head at the thought.

“Understandable.” A beat of silence passes. “Why are human pets hated so much? Or is it just pets in general that are despised by other demons?” You wonder aloud, not even expecting an answer to your questions.

V’s grip on the railings noticeably tightens, veins flexing beneath the skin in response. “It’s usually only the human ones,” he sighs audibly, returning to gaze at the forest ahead. “Like Ink said earlier, humans are considered lesser, even by the lowest of demons, simply for what you are.”

“I’ve noticed,” you say with a shrug. “Not many people here like me much.”

His head whips towards you. “Have you been having problems with others in the castle?” He asks, voice tight as his wings seemingly bristle in response.

You dismissively wave a hand. “It’s nothing. Mostly just some passive aggression, but it’s more so annoying than problematic,” you reassure. The Faegal and their rude comments aren’t worth bringing to his attention.

He stares at you, eyes probing for any indication that there’s further issues needing to be discussed. If he notices something, he doesn’t ask anything more.

“If you say so, but please don’t hesitate to notify me if something is wrong.”

You nod. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he hums though it’s easy to catch the hesitation when he bites the inside of his cheek. Before you can ask, he clears his throat. “Please know that this is a genuine question I ask, but how do mortals protect those they care about?” He glances to the side, turning to somewhat face you as his fingers lightly rap against the iron rail.

A simple question and yet it takes several seconds for you to come up with an answer. So many factors to consider. Realistically, you can’t, but there’s so much more than that.  “Supporting them to the best of our abilities, physically, emotionally, mentally; whatever way we can. As far as actual mortal danger goes,” you shrug helplessly, “there’s not much we can do besides trust and hope those we love will be okay.”

His brows raise. “You don’t have anything to ward off those who wish to harm you or someone you wanted to keep safe?”

“No, not really. Of course, there’s good luck charms and other things that can be significant for someone, but it’s not like with the ribbons here. Even then nothing is going to stop someone from being hurt or killed.”

“How do you handle it?” He wonders, lips pinched at your matter-of-fact response.

“All we can really do is accept it,” you shrug. “It’s just the way it is.”

“And yet, here you are,” he muses.

His words cause you to jolt, your spine stiffening at the implication. “We can accept that things happen, but that doesn’t mean we won’t try to do everything in our power to fix it.” You stare directly at him, practically challenging him to continue pressing further, and he cocks his head to the side.

“So I see,” he notes, his casual aloofness igniting irritation that begins burning inside you.

Your fists tighten, but when he amusingly glances at them you unclench them as you force your muscles to relax. Sighing wearily, you shake your head, releasing the rising frustration dwelling within. “Look, I’m not giving up on my sister, not like this.” Your hand drags along your face. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmurs apologetically. “Is there anything you want to know about me or my world?”

There are hundreds, if not thousands of things you want to ask, but you choose the one that prods at your mind. “Excuse me for being blunt, but why are you so concerned about protection?”

V leans against the railing, propping an arm on top of the curved metal. “I’ve briefly studied about humans, but there’s much to learn.”

You purse your lips. “Perhaps I should specify, why are you so interested when it comes to my protection?”

He stills, his once comfortable posture stiffening and he pushes himself up until he’s standing straight. Uncertainty lingers within his irises, long enough for them to become increasingly noticeable by the both of you, before confidence returns to cloak them with secrecy once more. “You see, it’s extremely rare, almost unheard of, for humans to leave here unscathed. Therefore, if you want a strong chance of escaping, I need to ensure you’re well protected in order to do so. Next,” he says, disregarding any further probing questions you may have.

When you open your mouth, he repeats the word again, effectively ending that part of the conversation. Biting your tongue, you sniff at his dismissal. “Fine then. How do your wings work, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“They work just like all the others, I can fold them closed,” his wings pull inwards and press into his back, “or I can stretch them wide,” they push out, easily reaching the width of the balcony. With his ebony wings, he looks even more alluring, a powerful demonic prince who could easily lure a saint towards temptation. “And if I move them very fast, then I can fly,” he adds wondrously, his wings beat a few times and the small wind brushes against your face.

“So you can choose when they can come out or not.”

He abruptly stops, midnight wings returning to their stoic position as they almost shrink into his back. “Usually, though certain emotions do have the tendency to unexpectedly summon them.” His hand brushes in his hair, ruffling his blond locks in the process as the strands splay across his forehead.

You step closer and his hand drips as he looks away, refusing to make eye contact as he pointedly stares at the metallic railings. “Your emotions cause them to react.”

“Perhaps,” he mumbles under his breath.

“It bothers you.” Your realization disarms him by the mere mention of this sensitive topic. His wings twitch ever so slightly and you wish you could gently caress them to soothe the faint tremors.

He finally turns to face you, meeting your eyes for only a moment before focusing somewhere else. “A little,” he admits. “Though it upsets my parents more. It was cute as a young boy when he got too excited and flew around the halls, but now, it’s rather unprofessional to have a man suddenly lose control because he’s unable to reign in his temper.”

“It upsets your parents even though your wings are a part of you?” You repeat.

He nods, crossing his arms as he returns his gaze to the vast forest below. “I can’t exactly blame them. It’s unprofessional and a sign of weakness. Plus,, “it can be troublesome when vases, lamps, or any other furniture gets caught due to my lack of perception,” he winces, most likely at some resurfacing memory.  

“How do you handle it? How do you maintain control?”

“I keep them hidden. If I want to stretch I can come outside.” To further emphasize his meaning, the ebony wings extend outwards, rising above your heads and pushing to the sides until the area is draped within the shadows.

You smile wanely at him, at the feathered wings who long to be free without consequence. “I’m sure it feels nice,” you murmur.

“It does.” Folding his wings, he leans against the corner of the wall so his wings can move with ease. Though there’s plenty of space, the edge of his right wing clips the potted plant on the ground and it grinds against the stones, nearly tipping over before he catches it with his leg. “Keeping them away isn’t the problem, it’s putting them back,” he admits. Ever so carefully, he relaxes himself against the wall once more, waiting to make sure his wings won’t hit anything else before fully getting comfortable.

You walk closer to stand beside him. His wings are wide enough that they could wrap around you both, soft feathers cocooning you within the softest downy blanket. One of the black feathers lightly brushes against your arm and you admire the black vane, noticing faint dashes of silver lined in between. “Probably because they’re meant to be free,” you reply.

V shrugs, reaching to pluck out a loose feather from his wing. “Perhaps. But, I don’t have much control when they are out, so it’s best they stay hidden. They can be quite intimidating when necessary,” he says, releasing the black feather over the balcony. It flutters in the air until the warm breeze pushes it further out into the sky.

“I guess they won’t be out for the ball coming up?”

He shuts his eyes and lets his head thump against the wall. “Please don’t remind me,” he groans. “And to answer your question, no, they’ll be hidden away.”

“You don’t seem very excited,” you note while thoughtlessly plucking a feather that was sticking out from the backside of the wings. V immediately stiffens and you back away. “I’m sorry. There was one sticking out in the back and I wasn’t thinking,” you hurriedly explain.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I can imagine what the back coat looks like, I’m sure there’s a disarray of feathers that need tending to anyway. Mother used to check them almost every night when I was a child, but no one else has done it since.”

While not an expert of birds, or demons with wings, for that matter, you’re sure that it’s bothersome to be unable to see your back or reach places that need tending. “If it doesn’t bother you, I wouldn’t mind helping you with your wings,” you offer.

A contemplative look crosses his face. “That’d actually be nice,” he admits. “Though you probably already have enough chores on your list.”

“It’s no problem,” you reassure, though his assumption causes you to freeze when you catch the blazing sun already high in the sky. It’s nearing lunchtime and you haven’t even done half of your tasks. “Speaking of which, I should probably go.” Turning to leave, you pass the balcony doors only to be stopped by a warm hand on your wrist.

V keeps his hand on your wrist, his grip loosening before returning to a firm grasp and you can see the hesitation within his irises. “Could you do it today?” He asks so faintly you almost miss it. “Unless you have other things to take care of, I know Miss must be overwhelming you with chores to prepare for the upcoming party.”

“It’s okay, this can count as my lunch break,” you reply, going back outside with him.

He goes to stand in front of the railing while you stay behind and begin the process of removing the feathers from his back. “Lunch is still important, little human,” he reminds.

“I’ll make sure to eat, Your Highness,” is your teasing remark though your hands slow when you graze your fingers along his wings. “I’m going to be honest, Your Highness, I’ve never exactly preened feathers before,” you confess.

He turns to look back at you with a smirk, much to your chagrin. “It’s not difficult. Just run your hands across my wings and carefully pinch, then pull any stray feathers. I can let you know if you find some that may not be ready quite yet.”

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you focus on moving your hand beneath the layers of wings and the feathers raise up at your touch. A shiver runs through him as he releases a sigh, relaxing beneath you. Thankfully, the feathers separate easily as you remove them before letting them fly away. Soon, a trail of midnight down glides along with the wind and vanishes into the distance. You’re both quiet in the peaceful silence and you cast a peek at V, only to find him with his eyes closed as he relishes in contentment. It reminds you of the time you found him asleep and you wish he could be at ease more often, even if for a few minutes at least.

Despite your slow, yet hopefully thorough work, time passes quickly and step back once you’re finished. “That should be it,” you gently  announce. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Opening his eyes as though waking from a nap, he shakes his head. “No, little dove, you did very well. Thank you,” he says, closing his wings and turning around to face you.

He’s more relaxed, the tightness gone from his face as he stretches both his arms and his wings. His joints creak a bit and something pops, which causes him to grunt in satisfaction at the release of tension. Once he’s finished, you watch in wonder as his wings pull back, shrinking in size until they soon disappear into his back. When he catches you still staring over his shoulders, you whip around and rush inside, not giving him a chance to ask where you were looking.

You step back inside and the shining sunlight causes a  glint of metal to pull your attention towards it. “Isn’t that one of Chef’s knives?” You point to the blade on his desk, the dried bloody tip peeking out from underneath the sprawling papers.

He picks it up, twirling it lightly between his fingers. “If you mean the knife you stole when you went on your little escapade, then yes, it is.”

“Why do you still have it?”

He shrugs. “I forgot.”

Huffing slightly in faux annoyance, you smile, reaching for the blade. “Then allow me to take it off your hands,” you say.

As you hold your palm out, he stops spinning it and gently sets it in your hand. His fingers graze along your wrist, the tips of his nails tracing along your skin, causing a slight shiver to tickle your entire arm. In response, your thumb brushes the side of his fingers. His wings flutter a bit and curl around you both.

“Thank you for preening my feathers,” he murmurs faintly and you catch a crimson splash his cheeks.

“Of course.”

Three knocks sound from his bedroom door, breaking the quiet air as his wings bristle in response before Bren comes inside with a tray of food.

“Your Highness, I have your lunch,” she calls, a gleaming smile upon her face until she sees you and her eyes fill with horror upon noticing the knife between your hands. The smile vanishes instantly as drops into a sneer before she quickly composes herself, the facial expression gone in less than a second.

Clasping your hands tightly behind your back, you clutch the knife and you bow to the prince. His smile is courteous while you hurry towards the door. Sidestepping Bren with a nod, you don’t miss the fire boiling within her ice blue eyes just as you exit the room.

Hurrying straight to the kitchen, you notice Mel and Rae snickering as they eat their lunch. Thankfully, they pay you no attention and since Chef isn’t here you go to the sink to clean the dirty knife. Due to the blood having dried days ago, you have to chip away pieces while scrubbing the metal harshly. When it’s finally clean and nearly in pristine condition, you shut the water off and turn to put the knife away, only to find Bren standing directly behind you.

“What’s with the knife, maggot?” She sneers, leaning close, her hand reaching for the blade.

You pull it away, backing yourself further into the sink. “What’re you talking about?”

“I’m not blind.” Her rising voice draws the attention of the other two girls, who’ve now stopped their giggling as they latch onto your confrontation with eager interest. “Why do you have a bloody knife and why was it in the prince’s room?”

“Why is it any of your concern?” You fire back.

The three of them have you cornered now and you hold the knife outwards, though only in a defensive manner. Bren snatches your wrist, twisting it up so the tip of the blade is pointed in your direction. “Everything about the prince is my concern, now answer me,” her teeth grinding together roughly.

Testing her strength, and your luck, you push forward only for her to immediately shove back, the counter digging painfully into your side. “He gave it for me to clean,” you say, “it was probably from another lunch or something.”

“Liar,” Rae sings, reaching to pinch your jaw between her fingers as she shakes your head rigorously, “wretched humans can’t lie at all,” her high-pitched voice grating your ears.

Mel gasps softly, “Could it be you created a blood promise with the prince?” She smirks at her own speculation.

Her words only piss Bren off further as her eyes glow a bright cerulean, her grip excruciating on your arm, the bone giving a painful pop and you groan at the increasing pressure. Between the hold on your wrist and the belittling hand on your face, you kick out at them, struggling to get free.

“Ohh, such a cute temper tantrum,” she coos, her finger poking into your lip and you instinctively bite it, but your teeth only catch the tip of the nail. She whines in disgust, backing away along with Mel who merely watches in amusement.

Flailing violently, you fight against Bren’s hold and amidst your jerking movements, the knife ends up slicing across her forearm. She shrieks in rage, shoving you away from her now, your hip slamming into the opposing counter as you and the stools tumble over. Her arm drips with blood, a scarlet line trailing down her skin as she clutches beneath it to prevent it from staining the grey cobblestone. Rushing to the sink, she holds her arm under the running water, crimson and clear liquids mixing between each other. Rae runs over to help staunch the wound while Mel hands her a cloth to cover it.

Pulling yourself to a stand, you can only watch as the trio clean and tie the injury. The knife is still clutched within your fingers and you release it, the metal clattering against the counter. With shaky breaths, you right the fallen seats, not saying a word.

When the sink cuts off, Bren whips around to face you with a glare, eyes dimmer than before, but still filled with menacing fury.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, fear clutching your throat as her eyes glow brightly for a split second before darkening to their usual state.

At first you don’t think she heard you until she slowly steps toward you. You inadvertently flinch as she comes closer, but she merely leans her head close, face mere inches away.

“Don’t think I won’t forget this, leech,” is her only response.

Gulping a few more breaths, you watch her back away slowly, deliberately. She takes the knife and touches the edge beneath your chin while you force your body to remain immobile. The blade presses further into you until she pulls it away, turning and tossing it into the sink, the echo of metal loudly resonating in the room.

“You’re lucky she heals quickly,” Rae says, which prompts Mel to slap the back of her head hard, causing her to moan in pain.

“Shut up!” Bren snaps as she shoves past them before exiting the kitchen.

The other two girls merely scoff at you and go to follow her. Mel pauses at the doorway, letting out a small laugh upon seeing your pathetic state before finally leaving. Once you hear their footsteps fade away, do you let yourself heavily collapse against the countertop.

~*~

Desolate wasteland stretches out before you. Plumes of smoke waft across the mounds of ash. Charred bodies lie scattered about, the stench burning your nostrils and causing your vision to blur due to your stinging tears.

Not again.

Covering your mouth and nose with your hand, you make your way forward through the mass of burnt remains pierced by splintered wooden beams. The ground is hot, the rocks almost like coals burn the soles of your feet. Avoiding the flames licking from random piles of bonfires, you step through the hills of fire until you find her.

She’s waiting for you this time, lying against the scorched base of a tree. There’s not much left of her, bones and skin are all that remains. Her veins are traced black as though someone had traced along her body with ink. Her head lies awkwardly to the side until she catches your approaching figure and stiffens immediately in anticipation.

“Finally,” she sighs, heaving her skeletal body upright. “I missed you,” she says with her usual eerie grin.

You don’t even bother resisting as she lunges for you and drags you to an unoccupied bonfire. Though your practically deadweight, she doesn’t have much trouble pulling you around.

“Why so limp tonight? Cooked flesh won’t taste as good if it’s filled with resignation,” she badgers you, shaking you hard, “We need to stir up some fear in you.” Gripping your chin, your neck is bent back until you feel the fire close to touching your skin.

Without much force, your hand slaps her cheek in an attempt to get her away. “Just get it over with already,” you plead.

Your sister snatches her wrist and you prepare yourself for the onslaught of pain, only for her to still. She zeros in on your palm and a hysterical laugh shudders from her brittle frame, her cracked lips peeling into a horrid smile. Her blackened veins bring more emphasis on her jawbone. “Oh, we really are sisters,” she giggles.

Twisting your wrist, she forces it close to your face and you barely make out the same traces of black outlining your own veins.

“Seems they’ve got a hold of you too. Good. It’s been getting lonely down here, so let’s speed this process up.”

And with that, she shoves you onto the wooden stake. It pierces just below your shoulder, missing vital organs in the process. The flames eagerly licking your flesh, searing your skin beyond repair, and you screech in anguish. There’s no solace when you catch faint remorse within your sister’s haunted eyes before it’s swallowed by pure satisfaction.

You wake in bed, writhing in the sweltering covers as you throw yourself to the ground, body cooling down in relief. Scrambling for your lantern, you have to focus on keeping a steady hand when lighting the flame. Holding your wrists close to the light, you find only unmarred flesh with no inked veins in sight.

~*~

Needless to say, sleep didn’t come for the rest of the night. Breakfast passes in a haze, but you’re sapped energy gets a boost upon seeing the new task added: Report to the prince in the afternoon.  

You frown, wondering why you would need to since the royal family already has servants at their beck and call. Regardless, you continue your work, paying no attention as you deflect a multitude of worrying thoughts along with sleep’s insistent pull to come visit the land of dreams.

A burst of energy appears when you knock on the wooden door. Having finished your other tasks, you save his for last, though still made sure to arrive in the afternoon as requested. The door opens to reveal the prince, who opens it further upon seeing you.

Bowing to him, you murmur a small hello in greeting.

“I take it Miss updated your task sheet,” he says, shutting the door behind you.

“She did,” you answer, turning to face him.

“This doesn’t bother you, does it? If this becomes a daily task for you?”

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Then why do you seem so hesitant?”

“I guess,” you pause and he stares back attentively, “I was wondering why you wanted me to help you rather than Bren, who’s already your personal servant,” you finish awkwardly.

He quirks a smile. “Ah, that. I thought you’d be worried about something else. While I could ask her I’d rather you do it instead.”

“Why?”

“It’s just easier with you,” he admits, pulling the green silk shirt over his head before tossing it onto the bed. “While some of the servants may have seen me with my wings, I’ve never been exactly close with them to ask them to do such a thing like this.”

He heads to the balcony and you follow behind, the warm breeze heating your skin, though the sun is nearing the process of dipping below the horizon. On the terrace, there’s now two stools and a small table with a book.

Rolling his shoulders briefly, you seemingly watch in slow motion as feather and bone protrude from his shoulder blades. In a snap, his wings push free and expand wide as they stretch magnificently. It’s a fascinating process and you’re enthralled by it.

Cracking his neck with a relieved sigh, he sits down on a stool, inviting you to do the same. Taking a breath, you pull your seat closer, the metal grinding against the concrete before sitting behind him. As you begin sifting through the black feathers, he reaches for the book on the table and begins reading.

For the most part, you remain focused on sifting through his wings as you look for stray feathers, but with each rustle of the pages you feel the urge to take a small peek. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for some useful information about possessions or demons who do that sort of thing, perhaps both if you were lucky. From over his shoulder, and left wing, you can partially see the upper page, though they were in some demonic language, the symbols all completely foreign to you.

He turns the page. “If you keep staring for too long, then your eyes might start bleeding,” he warns, his eyes not lifting from the text.

Quickly, you duck down and return to concentrating on his wings, more so in embarrassment rather than in fear. “You know you’re not the first to say that.”

“I assume you’re referring to Ink and his usual threats.”

“You assume correctly. Though it sounds horrifying enough that a part of me actually believes you.”

Another rustle from the page sounds. “This isn’t one of the ancient texts, so your eyes will be fine. I just enjoy teasing you sometimes.”

“Ha, ha,” you laugh dryly. “So even though I can’t read any of that, it’ll still blind me?”

“Yes, because it will show images in your head the moment your gaze lands on the paper.”

“Spooky,” you murmur, gently tugging an ebony feather free and letting it flutter in the wind. “What did you mean earlier by the way? When you thought I’d be worried about something else,” you explain upon seeing his confused expression.

“Oh, well I told you that my wings have the tendency to intimidate people and I wasn’t sure if that was the same case for you as well.” His wings fold inwardly, curling protectively against him. “Your first encounter with them hasn’t been. . .pleasant.”

“I saw worse that day if I’m being honest. Your wings don’t bother me, V.”

“Even if I could easily hit you by stretching them open?”

“I’m pretty sure it would be by accident or in good humor. Besides, they’re a part of you.”

“It would,” he admits. “At least, humans are relatively similar in that you all have four limbs and a head.”

“True, but even then, we’re still different. Some people have limbs that are unique in their own way or they may be missing those limbs completely. Us humans have our own special qualities too.”

“Really? Fascinating,” he says, shutting the book and setting it aside to face the forest. “What are your special qualities then?” He wonders.

“Apparently preening a demon prince’s feathers,” you joke. He laughs, nodding in agreement, his wings also fluttering lightly in response. “Actually, I’m not really sure. Extracurricular activities were usually too expensive or if they weren’t then I wasn’t good at them. Since my sister was always sick, I tended to just do stuff with her. Mostly just arts and crafts.”

“What would you make?”

“Pieces of jewelry, picture frames, decorations, and sometimes clothing.”

“None of which is with you I assume.”

“Well, there’s this.” You stretch your leg up to show your anklet.

V’s hand gently grabs hold of your ankle, pulling it to rest on his knee as he admires the design, fingers caressing the entwined strings. “Did she make this?”

“Yeah, we both made one for each other.”

“What colors did you use for hers?”

“Light blue and orange.”

“So colorful,” he chuckles. His thumb brushes against your heel, causing a shiver to rise up your leg in response to the soft touch. He notices your touch and releases you, where you then slowly pull it back down onto the hard concrete.

The air is quiet until V shifts and turns his head to the side. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your sister?”

You swallow as your saliva turns to sand. “None of us know. She’s sick and getting worse, but no one knows how to treat it.” You take a breath before adding. “I think she might be possessed.”

“What makes you say that?”

You explain how the books detail certain reactions to a possession and how they’re similar to what your sister has experienced.

He’s pensive, brows creased together in concentration. “It is possible, especially from what you’re describing.”

“The books from the library are helpful, there’s just so much information,” you say, your brain going numb upon remembering all the pages filled with symbols and paragraphs of obscure meanings.

This causes him to laugh, rubbing a hand along the side of his face and he nods with agreement. “Yes, you’re exactly right, little dove. Devouring all of that is a complete nightmare, especially since it’s required for one to take over the throne.”

His admittance prompts a question to invade the forefront of your mind, but you hesitate at the idea of asking. “V,” you say, and he hums in response, “you mentioned once before about having siblings.” Beneath your touch, you can feel his body tighten.

“I did,” he confirms. He’s facing forward, so you can’t see his expression, though the solemness in his voice isn’t hard to miss.  

“If you don’t mind me asking, but what are they like?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that because I’ve never met them.”He sighs, wings drooping as the tips slump to the ground. “They’re dead.”

You blink in surprise. “I didn’t know demons could die.” The words leave your mouth before you can think to consider them and you clamp your jaw shut, appalled with yourself.

“If they haven’t ascended, then yes, they can die.” He winces before his face smoothes into a stoic expression and he reaches for his book. “I’m sorry, but I’d rather not talk about this now.”

You quickly nod and resume your task. “Of course, I’m so sorry for upsetting you,” you apologize, cursing at your blatant disregard.

“It’s fine,” he says. He means it, but the pain is still evident, being kept in place just below the surface.

Sliding along his wings, you check for any noticeable feathers. You’re glad when you find none, wanting to leave before you make the situation worse. “I’m finished, Your Highness,” you tell him as you stand and he does the same.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, stretching his limbs as he yawns.

Seeing him do so, inadvertently triggers the same response from you and there’s no stopping the drawn out yawn that leaves your mouth, no doubt the nightmares being the main culprit to your lack of sleep.

“Have you been sleeping well?” He asks in concern, keeping you from leaving as he closely observes you.

You’re about to say yes, but hesitate when V cocks his head to the side. His narrowing eyes make you rethink your response long enough for him to already assume the answer.

“No, not really,” you finally admit. “I’ve been staying up late reading those books and I think being so close to the forest isn’t exactly helping.” You don’t mention the nightmares, not wanting to mention anything more about siblings, especially since you’ve already ruined the once pleasant atmosphere with your stupid questions. Both reasons are true, so you’re technically not lying.

“We do have guest rooms that are much nicer compared to where you are currently. Perhaps a new room might help you sleep better,” he offers.

You’re quick to shake your head. “No, no, I’m fine. I just haven’t gotten used to it yet, that’s all,” you explain.  

His eyes remain on you for a few more seconds before sighing. “Alright, but my offer will remain if you change your mind. My promise is also still in effect, little dove. You will find a way home,” he reassures.

You don’t respond at first, which prompts him to lay his hand on your shoulder as he nudges your chin up with his finger and you have no choice but to meet his eyes.

“I hope so,” is all you can say and you do your best to smile in return though you’re sure he doesn’t buy it if his worried expression is any indication. He doesn’t press further and instead releases you so you can leave. You quietly excuse yourself and leave his room before moving on to your next tasks. Hope still burns within you, but each passing day only quenches it little by little.

~*~

The desolate wasteland has returned, though it has some new decorations.

Broken, spindled trees sprout sporadically in the ground. The branches are bare, distorted limbs twisted into knots. A giant, menacing tree is in the center, its burnt black roots above ground as they form an odd nest around it. Even from this distance, you can easily recognize the body and its limbs wrapped around the roots at the base of the tree.

Wearily, you walk forward, going closer to the trapped figure. She doesn’t move, but only sits in waiting for your approach. You stop and remain at a distance where she isn’t able to grab you.

“Sis,” is your tired whisper to her.

“I know,” she responds, holding her arms wide to the best of her ability, though they don’t go far due to her wrists being caught. “It hurts me too.”

Her coherent words bring you closer, despite the warnings in the back of your mind. It’s too good to be true, but maybe, the potion from the Queen is working or maybe you’re in luck tonight.

She beckons you with your trapped hands and you take another step. Soon, you’re standing over her lying form.

“Come here, sister.”

And despite all rational thought, you ignore your better judgement to join her within the dead tree. Though you refuse to free her, you hope that your presence can bring her some peace, even if it’s temporary. Your arms wrap around her, cuddling close as if you were both at home in bed.

“Faith, what’s happening?”

“It’s going to be okay, you just have to remember.” Her head nudges your own and you huddle closer.

“Remember what?”

“You know the truth,” she urges, her arms wrapping tightly around you causing you to freeze in horror. “I remember, why can’t you?” She’s squeezing tighter and you fidget in discomfort.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She grips your face, the bones of her fingers digging painfully as she pulls your head up to meet her black eyes. From the corners of them, the blackness oozes forth and spreads within her veins. “It’s time to stop playing. You need to remember what you did,” she hisses.

“Sis, please,” you plead. “I’m trying, but I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?” You gasp, her embrace slowly suffocating you with each passing second.

Your head is pushed roughly into one of the tree’s roots, the bark digging harshly into the back. “Shut up and remember so you can fix it!” She bangs your head and your scalp burns. “Why don’t you fix it?” She shrieks.

Crying out, you push her away, but she rolls until she’s on top. Another thump and your vision blurs before you refocus in time to see her holding a broken branch high in the air. She slams it down into your shoulder, the stick piercing your flesh.

You scream out, writhing beneath her while she screeches in your face to remember, to make it end and you beg for the same. The sky fills with both of your cries as you continue uselessly fighting with no end in sight whatsoever.

Jolting awake, your panting fills the dark room as you desperately clutch yourself. The ghost of your sister’s arms cling onto you and viciously rub your arms to get rid of the horrid feeling. When your heart rate eventually slows, you scoot to the edge of the bed and rush to leave this room, only to stop upon hearing the guttural yowl in the distance.

The sound echoes again and you turn to look at your closed window. Cautiously, you make your way to it and ease the curtains aside. With the help of the light pole, you can somewhat see the edge of the tree line. Squinting, you watch as figures dart in between and around the trees of the forest, with some moving slow while others are a mere blur. Through the glass you can hear muffled animalistic growls along with screams of anguish. The cries of you and your sister echo in your ears and you jerk away from the window.

Rushing out the bedroom door, you head to the kitchen, your new place of refuge in the nights. While making your way down the hall, Cara meets you at the entrance, having heard your footsteps. She calls softly in greeting, hovering on the other side of the counter before sniffing the air a few times.

“I smell blood,” she announces, leaning close to you. “It seems you’re bleeding.”

Feeling along your skin, you eventually find the dampness at the upper edge of your nightgown. Bell flicks on the bright light and you see a shallow scratch on your upper chest as blood slowly oozes from the wound. You pull your gown away, but part of it is already stained red. How are you going to explain this to Miss?

“Do you know how you were injured?” Cara asks, going to retrieve a rag before wetting it in the sink.

“I had a nightmare where I was attacked, but I think I might’ve just scratched myself in my sleep,” you murmur.

“Yes, that must be the case as it is impossible to be injured in your dreams unless the cause were to be in the same plane or realm,” she says, handing you the wet rag held within her strands of hair.

You take it and swipe it across your skin, not missing the connotation of her words and what it means for your sister as Hakyeon’s warning about the little time she has left rings in your ears. The scratch isn’t deep, but it’s longer than you were hoping, the jagged line starting below your neck and leading down towards your upper chest. Biting your lip, you continue wiping the scratch until more blood keeps seeping.

“Bell is coming with some supplies to help clean and dress that wound,” Cara informs.

Before you can object, the other floating head arrives in the kitchen with a bottle and some gauze held by her hair. They help you dress the cut, explaining how there’s apparently a cleaning fluid in the laundry room that easily gets rid of blood. You can’t say you’re surprised.

Thanking them both, you leave to go shower and change while going to sneak your dirty nightgown to wash before breakfast. After cleaning it, you hang it up to dry just as morning call rings in the halls. You go to collect your list of tasks and head back to the kitchen for breakfast.

Lhaine joins you soon after, yawning wide as she gathers her breakfast and climbs up onto the stool beside you. “How was your night?”

Snorting, you rub your eyes. “The usual, sleepless,” you sigh, standing up after finishing off the rest of your water.

She grabs your shoulder, forcing you to stop as she pulls the sleeve of your dress aside. “What happened to you?”

“I think my dreams are getting worse,” you say while she inspects the gauze wrapped around your upper arm.

“This isn’t good. Maybe you should switch rooms. Maybe you’re the one that’s haunted.”

You chuckle lightly. “Did the prince put that idea in your head, about changing rooms?”

She frowns at you. “No. Why would he?”

Briefly, you mention how he had offered you one of the upper guest rooms to stay in as a possible way to ease your nightmares. Lhaine whacks your arm and you wince. “Idiot! Why did you say no?”

“I don’t think a room change is going to do much to help me. Besides, it’s not exactly fair for a servant, who hasn’t been here long, to be living upstairs.”

“Psh, that’s stupid,” she huffs. “If he gave me that offer, I’d say yes before he was even finished. I don’t care who I’m leaving behind, no offense,” she tells you. “You should go and accept it.”

“I’m pretty sure the offer has passed by now.”

Lhaine catches your lie instantly. “And I’m hundred percent sure it still stands, so go ask,” she argues.

“No, I’m not going to do that. I like my room anyway.” That results in her kicking you in the leg while you jump away to retrieve the bucket and mop so you can begin cleaning.

~*~

You don’t see her again until lunch though there neither of you really converse since the Faegal are also there and being rather obnoxious as they whisper amongst each other while letting out high-pitched cackles every five minutes. Lhaine merely sits and glares at them, violently chewing her food while even Chef appears ready to beat them with one of her large frying pans. Though thankfully, their giggling is cut short when you all notice Miss enter the kitchen.

Everyone stands at attention while her eyes immediately find yours. “It appears, Ms. Y/N, that you will be switching rooms as of today. Pack your things once your tasks are completed and report tomorrow at morning call. Just because you’re now upstairs does not mean the same rules don’t still apply,” she warns, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“Yes, Miss,” you bow low, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

Miss swiftly turns on her heel to leave the room, high heels clicking on the stone. Once she’s gone, you ease back onto the seat, staring intently at your remaining bread and water, feeling multiple gazes shooting into your head. Beside you, Lhaine hums, satisfyingly taking a bite of a huge chunk of lettuce. Chef is the next one to carry on without any trouble, easily returning to her dish washing. It’s the other three occupants who’re still glaring daggers at your head.

Risking a peek, you instantly regret it as Bren looks ready to jump the counter and strangle you. Mel’s face is filled with disgust, as per usual, while Rae simply looked like a pouting, self-entitled child, who didn’t get her way.

“You may be worming your way closer to him, maggot, but just remember he belongs to me,” she spits, lips pulled back as she snarls at you.

Lhaine snorts a laugh and you wish you could kick her. Bren’s face turns a splotchy red, ice blue eyes bulging in fury. She shoves away from the counter and disappears through the doorway followed by the other two. In the distance, a door slams and the sound reverberates down the hall.

“I’m going to kill you,” you hiss at Lhaine, slapping her forearm.

“No, you’re not because I just did you a huge favor,” she answers with a smug grin on her face. She collects her lunch and goes to dispose of it. “I’ll be at your room tonight to help you move in. It’s gonna be great!”

You sigh, not bothering to argue with her as she practically skips out of the kitchen. You’re sure that’s the most you’ve ever seen her excited. Grumbling to yourself, you head to V’s room with the intentions of keeping your mouth shut about moving rooms and siblings. Just be polite, do what you’re supposed to do, and then leave.

Knocking three times, you hear V giving you permission to enter and when you go in, you see that he’s already seated comfortably outside on the balcony. Closing the door, you hurry over to him, embarrassed to have kept him waiting.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” you greet.

“Hello, little dove,” he answers. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

“Are you excited?” His question has you pausing, fingers about to comb through his lush, ebony feathers. “I trust you’ve been informed about your room change.” He looks over his shoulder at you with a satisfied smirk.

You release yet another sigh. “Yes, Your Highness, but it’s really not necessary.”

“Maybe not, but unfortunately, the changes are already set in place.” He may say it’s unfortunate, but his still present smile says otherwise.

So much for not mentioning the room change.

You begin sifting through his feathers, silence enveloping the area around you and you finish with the first wing before V speaks.

“I apologize for yesterday,” he says quietly.

You still. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” you tell him. “I should be the one saying sorry, not you.”

“Regardless, I should be able to handle such questions without issue. It’s been years and I don’t even know any of them,” he huffs in frustration.

“Regardless,” you repeat, “it’s understandable for one to grieve over the loss of others, even if you haven’t met them. Sometimes we hear about people we don’t know and wish we could know who they were and what they were like. It’s normal,” you soothe, resting a hand on his shoulder and he stiffens briefly before relaxing under your touch.

“No one talks about them much, but from the few things I’ve heard, I feel like they would’ve been excellent rulers. Unlike me,” he murmurs faintly.

“That’s not true,” you insist. “You’re always working and constantly reading to prepare for when you do take over.”

“Even so, I don’t think I’ll even be able to ascend anyway,” he scoffs.

“Why do you say that?”

There’s a heavy pause. “Because none of my other siblings did,” he admits.

“What do you mean?” You ask, despite already possibly expecting the answer.

“They all died before they could ascend and most are assuming the same fate will happen to me.”

“They were murdered?”

“Some were simply ill, while for others that is possibly the case, though no one is certain.”

“And you’re worried the same will happen to you.”

“A bit,” he sighs.

“Because you have ascended yet?”

“No, not yet anyway.” He rakes a hand through his hair and abruptly stands, his wings flapping behind him.

You stand as well and go towards him at the edge of the balcony. “Look, it’s okay to be worried, but you’re going to be okay. I don’t know the situation with your other siblings, but I’m sure everyone here will do everything in their power to ensure you get to ascend.”

He laughs darkly. “While I admire your optimism, little dove, I don’t think being the thirteenth attempted heir to the throne is exactly lucky.”

You hesitate, which only causes your optimism to slowly shrivel away. “Thirteen is just a number,” you say, though your tone isn’t as upbeat as you had hoped. Your hand rests atop his and he turns to look at you, surprise evident in his eyes. “If you’re confident that I can get out of Hell, then I’m just as sure that you will be able to ascend and claim the throne that’s rightfully yours.”

V watches you in awe at how your eyes blaze with determination and how your voice is filled with passion. “The perseverance you hold for your sister is encouraging to say the least, little dove. It seems like we both have to hold each other accountable then,” he murmurs with a ghost of a smile.

A knock sounds at the door and you both flinch away, hands separating in the process as well. Thorn timidly enters the room, the gardner ducking below the threshold of the door as she slowly makes her way inside. “Excuse me for intruding, Your Highness, but Miss is requesting that Ms. Y/N immediately comes to her office. It’s an urgent matter,” she says with unease.

Your breath freezes in your lungs and you can’t move as anxious thoughts swirl about your head.

“Her Majesty also wished for me to ask which flowers you prefer for the upcoming ball,” Thorn continues, indicating to the coral-colored flowers in her hands.

“Go on ahead. I’ll be down there soon,” V urges.

You follow after Thorn, quickly taking the steps and rushing to the servant’s quarters. Upon entering Miss’s office, you see the Miss and the three Faegal, along with Chef and Lhaine waiting inside. Miss beckons you inside, thanking Thorn for her assistance before promptly dismissing her. She stands from her chair, but remains behind the desk.

“It seems we have a problem, Ms. Y/N,” she says. “This is how I do things. I ask questions and you answer with a simple yes or no. Understand?”

“Yes, Miss,” you answer, your stomach twisting into knots.

“Good.” Miss nods for Bren to step forward into the middle of the room beside you. “Show the wound.”

Bren holds her arm out to reveal a long pink scar marring the skin. It’s fresh, the cut having just sealed itself.

“Bren, you claim that Ms. Y/N is the one who inflicted this wound, correct?”

“Yes, Miss,” she sniffles.

“Was this the knife she used?” Miss holds up one of Chef’s kitchen knives, the blade stained with blood.

Your body runs cold as she nods with a faint yes.

“Chef, do you confirm this belongs to you?”

“Yes, those are one of mine,” she affirms.

“Ms. Y/N,” you flinch when Miss addresses you, “is it true you and Bren were in a confrontation that then escalated?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see Bren bleed?”

“Yes, but—”

“Yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“Were you the one that caused her to bleed by using the knife?”

“No.”

“She’s lying,” Bren interrupts, earning a harsh glare from your boss.

“Be quiet,” she hisses.

“It was an accident,” you’re also met with a dangerous scowl and you clamp your mouth shut.

“An accident implies that you were the one to inflict the wound, regardless of intention.”

“I’m sure she had good reasons to do so,” Lhaine interjects.

“No one asked, spider runt,” Mel spits. “This doesn’t even involve you. Your presence isn’t necessary”

“Neither is yours!”

“We’re her witnesses.”

“Enough,” Miss calls.

“For what?” Lhaine wonders, ignoring Miss and the deadly glare she sends her way. “The fight where Y/N was probably defending herself from the prince’s needy Lusex!

Bren hisses, her eyes bulging. “Excuse me! I haven’t done anything to her, you disgusting freak.”

“You’re just upset that it’s not you preening his feathers.”

Chaos ensues.

You’re tackled before you’re able to brace yourself. All you hear are shrieks and hisses as a rush of wind beats down on you while hands slap your face. “You don’t deserve him, maggot!”

From above, all you can see is a mass of blue feathered wings flapping in a frenzy. You blindly hit back, your palm hitting something sharp that causes the thing above you to screech louder. Somewhere in the room, Lhaine curses though it’s barely heard through all the other noises.

A shrill squawk rings before being cut off. “Quit your screaming, birdbrain,” Chef scolds.

The slaps increase in frequency and your cheeks burn with each smack. Another gust of air swirls in the room and the weight on top of you vanishes before crashing into a wall. The wings above you appear to have darkened as the navy feathers are now pitch black.

V stands beside you, wings raised high above with bristled feathers. “What in Daemon’s glory is going on here?” He bellows.

All commotion in the room instantly ceases. Chef has a death grip on Rae while Lhaine continues crushing Mel underneath her, hand shoving her head against the floor.

Bren moves first, shakily sitting up, her blue wings drooping around her. “Your Highness,” she whimpers pitifully.

He pays her no attention, immediately turning to Miss who remains unperturbed albeit her eyes hold a poisonous glare that is on the brink of spilling over. “Why all the commotion, Miss?”

She bows low before raising her head. “I apologize for the disturbance, Your Highness. We were settling a dispute until one of them. . .lost control,” she huffs. “I will ensure they are penalized for this shameful behavior.”

“What was the dispute over?”

Bren opens her mouth, but a snap from Miss’s fingers instantly silences her. “This one here has stated that that one,” she jerks her chin in your direction and you flinch, “had injured her with a knife in Chef’s kitchen.”

“Is that so?” V wonders, offering a hand to you and you stiffly pull yourself to a stand. “Did you have an altercation with her?” He asks, staring directly at you.

Everyone’s eyes are on you, each one weighing you down with varying pressure. You keep your eyes only on his own. “Yes, but it wasn’t intentional.”

He nods and turns to Bren. “That wound looks recent. When did this happen?”

Bren sniffles, blue eyes shining. “Earlier today. She said—”

He cuts her off with a disregarding hand and looks to you. “Is it true this happened today?”

You shake your head. “No, this was a couple of nights ago.”

He nods. “So, you’re lying, Ms. Bren.”

“My wound is fresh,” she answers helplessly, showing the pink scar to the entire room.

“We were there, Your Highness,” Mel supplies, shoving Lhaine off of her and gets to her feet, olive wings opened slightly to help steady herself.

“I’m sure you were, but I recognize the knife in question as I clearly remember the day I gave it to Ms. Y/N to be returned to the kitchen, which just so happened to be two nights ago as she said. Therefore, I have determined that you are lying and your friends are simply covering for you.”

Bren stands up, “Your Highness,” she pleads to him. “Why would I inflict such a wound upon myself and painfully suffer again?”

“Again?” V asks. “So there were two altercations?”

Her eyes widen in horror and she clamps her lips shut.

“Such useless deceit,” Miss hisses. “Punishment must be fulfilled for this insolence. Seven days in the brig for you, Ms. Bren.” She gives her a once-over before coming to another conclusion. “And those wings shall be clipped as well.”

Her decision is met with Rae whimpering in fear and even Mel crosses her arms uncomfortably. Bren crumples to the floor, her wings collapsing limply beside her. “No, please,” she begs to Miss, who stares blankly at her. She turns to V, crawling towards, desperately reaching an arm out to him and he takes a step back. “Your Highness, how could you simply believe her when she has no proof? I have witnesses.” She motions feebly towards the other two girls.

“By trusting her,” he simply states.

“Get up,” Miss commands her. “Pleading will reward you no sympathy.”

“I’m sorry! It won’t happen again, just please, let me keep my wings,” she cries, latching onto Miss’s dress, to which a heel kicks her harshly in the head and she falls in a heap.

“Such a pathetic creature.”

“Wait, yes, she made a mistake, but shouldn’t she be given one more chance?”

Everyone, including Miss, stares at you incredulously.

“I allow no second chances for such avoidable mistakes,” she says.

“I’m sure she’s learned her lesson.”

“This punishment will further prove it then. Besides, examples need to be demonstrated to ensure order is in effect.”

“That’s alright, Miss. Since Ms. Y/N is showing such forgiveness we should do the same as well.”

It’s not a suggestion, that much is clear.

Miss’s lips pinch into a thin line before sighing. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“That being said, as you’ve stated Miss, order should remain and for that Ms. Bren your demotion is irrefutable. As of this moment, I no longer wish to have you as my personal servant. Instead, Ms. Y/N shall be taking your place.”

While crestfallen, Bren remains silent, bowing to the prince and then collecting herself by standing up.

“Your Highness, I can take this from here. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time,” says Miss.

“I’m sure you will,” he laughs. “I’ll be on my way then.” Folding his wings tightly against his back, he turns and heads for the doorway, his arm lightly brushing your own as he passes you.

When he’s gone, the tension thickens, suffocating almost everyone left to face the wrath of your boss. Her hands clench into fists, muscles tremoring with rage that lingers just below the surface of her skin. “None of you even have the slightest inkling of how much mercy each and every single one of you was given” she says, her eyes drilling into everyone involved. “Such disgraceful creatures.”

Beneath the weight of her words, you sink to your knees and bow your head low. From your peripherals, you see Lhaine doing the same though she keeps her back straight with her chin pressed to her chest. Rae fidgets within Chef’s grasp until she’s dropped to the floor in a heap where she stays. Mel makes no effort to change her offensive stance, merely propping herself against the wall with crossed arms while Bren keeps her gaze to the ground.

Miss steps around her desk, the click of her heels slow and deliberate as she comes to a stop in front of Bren. The resounding slap of palm against cheek sends the girl to the floor, neck jerked to the side as she collapses beneath the older woman.

“An embarrassment,” she admonishes. “To let such taunts trigger such irrational behavior is appalling. I lead only civilized individuals and yet you all acted like petty humans fighting, spurred only by jealousy. This won’t happen again, will it?”

“No, Miss,” is murmured around the room, excluding Mel whose posture remains the same.

Miss walks towards her and stops in front of her. “I expect a response, you pathetic bird,” she commands.

Mel’s olive wings flutter in response, eyes staring directly at Miss. “You won’t have to worry about dealing with us,” she mutters.

“Don’t be smart with me. Tell me why.”

“Because it won’t happen again,” Mel answers through gritted teeth.

Miss utters something too low to hear, but you see Mel shakily jerks her head away, earlier bravado now displaced. “Mark my words, if I so much catch any suspicion of underlying ridiculous drama, I will ensure your disembodied head hangs from my doorway as a warning to others. Now get out of my sight,” she spits.

Mel steps around Bren’s fallen form and leaves the room while Rae skitters to Bren and helps her to her feet. She wraps her burgundy wings around her and guides her out without so much as a glance in your direction. Lhaine comes to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder, leading the two of you out together. The girls head to their respective rooms while Lhaine follows you to your own and begins rifling through your closet.

You limply fall on your bed, bringing your feet up to your chest, unable to process the recent events.

“Don’t get too comfortable because you’re helping me with all this. Unless you’re just saying goodbye to your concrete bed even though you’ll be sleeping in a better one that will probably feel as soft as clouds,” she dreamily sighs, throwing her head back dramatically. “Farewell, sweet bed, I hope you burn for eternity.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Oh yeah? Never heard of someone bleeding in their dream and their sleep.”

You wince. “I probably just did it to myself by accident.”

“I still think your bed is cursed.”

You get up and gather your books and notes along with your other belongings while she carries your clothes and shoes, which didn’t consist of much. Letting her lead since she knows the castle better than you, Lhaine takes you to a door directly across from the prince’s own room. She lifts a leg and uses her foot to turn the handle, lightly pushing it open. Following after her, you nearly drop your things.

The room is easily twice the size of the previous one. And much more colorful as well. A gentle indigo covers the room and trails into a private restroom in the far corner. Your new bed takes up a majority of the space, the canopy surrounding it nearly reaching the ceiling. An upgraded desk and armoire are included along with a chaise lounge that sits near the bay windows. You feel a sense of peace as you look around, hope of comfort welling deep within your chest.

“Lucky whore,” Lhaine scoffs, tossing your clothes on the bed and starts hanging them in the armoire.

“Maybe V will make an exception for you to stay here too?” You wonder and she rolls her eyes.

“V? You must be preening his feathers good,” she cackles, slipping your uniform through the hanger. Yeah, not going to happen. It’s bad enough a human is living luxuriously here, no need to include a runt to that.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Oh ho, look who’s gaining some confidence, and power too,” she adds.

“Power?”

“The prince sided with you when deciding Bren’s punishment. She should be sitting in the cells with her wings torn to shreds.”

“Even if she hates me and tries to murder me, I don’t feel the same way. Just leave me alone, that’s all I ask.”

“Don’t hold your breath. Anyway, enjoy your first night in paradise and I’ll see you in the morning. Have a good night,” she sings to you and you wave goodbye in return.

The moment she’s gone, you immediately head to the restroom to clean yourself up and to hopefully loosen the stiff muscles of your body. Tossing your uniform off, you peel the lavender shower curtain back and turn on the facet of the porcelain bathtub. While you wait for the tub to fill, you check the mirror above the sink, which confirms Bren got quite a few good hits in if the light scratches on your very sore cheeks are any indication. Shutting off the faucet water, you sigh in elation as you slide into the wonderfully hot water. You rest your head on the edge, soaking until the water becomes cold.

After dressing, you continue investigating the rest of your new room. Going to the window, you peek through the curtains and look down to find a greenhouse down below. The clear glass panes shine against the receding sunlight. Various flora are scattered about inside,  covering the walls and hanging from the ceiling.  A small pond sits inside, the crystal clear water so still it looks frozen. To the far left sits the edge of the Crooked Forest and you’re glad that this room is farther away from it. If you only look to the right, the scenery before you could almost be tranquil to you. The remnants of sunlight dip below, leaving only the chill of night that seeps through the glass of the window.

You stand and go to bed, letting yourself fall into the satin sheets. Your body sinks into the mattress and your bones practically melt in contentment. Burrowing under the covers, you fall asleep and drift into blissful dreams.

~*~

When you head down the steps, you’re not expecting to find Hakyeon casually propped against the bars of the cell and waiting for you.

“Hello darling, good to see you this fine morning,” he cheerfully greets while you lug the bucket over to the cell.

“Yes, yes, nice to see you too,” you huff before dropping the weight down with a heavy thud. “You seem awfully happy today.”

He smirks. “Perhaps.”

As you distribute the cans of food, a small book is presented to you. “Finished?” You take the game from him and he nods.

Getting comfortable against the metal bars, he cracks the can open and begins eating. “I am.”

“Did you win?”

“I believe I did,” he smirks and you curiously flip through the pages.

“Why’s it empty?” You ask, not finding even a stray mark anywhere.

Hakyeon shifts before scoffing. “I’m a generous player, obviously. It’s no fun erasing previous games before one can even play.”

“Understandable. I’ll go and drop it off at the library then.”

“Thank you, you’re too kind. How’re you doing by the way?” He wonders, tilting his head with keen interest.

“Fine,” you answer slowly.

You and Hakyeon always shared basic formalities with each other, never surpassing business politeness, but this is oddly new.

“No bruises? Soreness? I hear you had quite the scuffle last night,” he grins knowingly.

Of course. “I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

“Did you win?” He perks up.

“No one won,” you say dryly.

Hakyeon sighs. “You lie, damsel in distress.” He wags a finger at you. “Don’t glare at me, we all know it’s true. Always aim for the throat. Go for the feathers at the base or the nose, if you must, though you’ll probably lose a few fingers.”

“I appreciate the advice, but why are you telling me this? I don’t plan on getting involved in another fight that will end up with me beheaded.”

“Remember where you are, darling. Things will always come for you, even if you try to avoid it,” he warns. “Dreams are no exception.”

“Sleep isn’t a problem anymore since I’m now in a different room.”

“That’s exciting. How do you like having your own cozy purple room?”

“How do you know all this? Who told you about the fight with Bren?”

“I have eyes and ears everywhere,” he states simply.

Your eyes narrow. “Are you actually a prisoner here? Or are you an informant or something?”

He gasps dramatically. “As if I would do such a thing here. Unfortunately, I am indeed a convict if you must know.”

“What did you do? Why are you down here?”

“Another day, darling, another day. For now, you should be off before Miss catches you chit-chatting. Don’t want to get in any more trouble, do we?”

You scramble to get the things and quickly leave with a short goodbye. Climbing up the steps, you head straight for the library, putting the book in its proper place before continuing on with your tasks.

The rest of the day is mostly quiet and you have few interactions with others, that is, until lunchtime. One of your tasks for today involves serving lunch and you do your best to keep your composure, not wanting to fail like the last time. As you carry the food with Dust, you go towards the King first to set the plates down while Dust walks with the Queen’s food. After setting his food in front of him, you walk past the Queen, who pays you no attention while she sifts through a small green notebook. The pages are blank, short pencil still being held in the binding as she turns each page.  She snaps it closed when you pass behind her and tucks it into the front of her dress.

“Son, I must ask as to why you decided to infest the guest room with vermin,” the King mentions nonchalantly as he takes a bite of food.

Thankfully your back is to him so he won’t notice your look of mortification. You just so happen to catch V’s eyes and you jerk your head away, silently setting the food before him.

“My previous servant is focusing on other tasks now, so I made some adjustments and wanted this one a bit closer.”

“Servants are supposed to be kept out of sight as that is where they belong. Where are the guests supposed to stay?”

“We have plenty of rooms to accommodate for them. Besides I believe it’s just my friends who are staying and some are planning to share rooms.”

“This castle is our home, not a display for pets.”

“She won’t be displayed,” V reassures.

“No, it most certainly won’t,” agrees the King. “It’s not even properly marked. Didn’t you give it your ribbon?”

“Father, she is not a pet.”

“Gentleman, please, let us simply enjoy our meal without this bickering,” the Queen insists. “Limit this to just one servant, simple as that. There, we solved the problem and came to a compromise,” she decides, taking a rather long drink of her wine. “My King, we should be discussing the arrangements for the upcoming event.”

“Should we start with your choice of colors? Crimson would’ve been preferred, not some hideous pink,” he snarls, glaring at the Queen who stares back in return with equal displeasure.

She sighs with exasperation. “Most of this world is crimson. And coral hasn’t been done by any other family yet. Miss will ensure it won’t be overwhelming to the eye.”

You excuse yourself and head back to the kitchen as their conversation is drowned out by the clanging  of metal and food being cooked. Once lunch is complete, you carry on and don’t see the prince again until it’s time to preen his feathers.

“I apologize for earlier,” he says, breaking the silence that had ensued when you first entered his room. He hadn’t said much besides the usual polite greeting as he appeared to be too distracted by some book he was reading.

Now the book is on the table while he stares at you over his shoulder, face filled with regret.

“It’s fine,” you reassure. “I think I should be the one sorry for causing tension between you and your family.”

He shakes his head. “No, no, don’t be concerned with my parents. Mother doesn’t mind and father will, he’ll tolerate it eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“He can be persistent when it comes to tradition at times. Enough talk of them. How are you enjoying your new room?”

“I like it a lot, thank you. The view from the window is definitely an improvement.”

“Ah, yes, the Crooked Forest isn’t exactly known for its tranquil scenery. You see mother’s garden instead now.”

“That’s her garden?”

“Yes, father and I are the only ones besides herself that are allowed inside.”

“Well, from what I can see it’s very pretty what with all the flowers.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate your comment; she’s worked hard on maintaining it.”

“The pond is gorgeous too,” you add.

“You can see it from up there?”

“A little bit. I almost thought it was fake because it looks so still,” you add.

“That’s just the effects of the glass.”

“I’m going to just assume that it’s not just a pond of water and there’s something more magical to it.”

“Your assumption is correct. It can show you whoever you want to see so long as you dip an item related to them inside,” he explains.

“Like my anklet?” You ask, optimism piquing within your mind at the prospect of being able to see your sister, your real sister and not the nightmare version haunting you within your dreams.

“Yes, that would work,” he carefully answers.

“I know I’m breaking so many rules by asking and probably putting you into an uncomfortable position, but would you be willing to take me to the pond to see my sister?”

“I can take you, though I should warn you that some of the flora isn’t pleasant. I know you’ve seen worse at this point, but it can still be quite gruesome.”

“Thank you. I’ll go ahead and mentally prepare myself now,” you chuckle in an effort to make the mood more lighthearted, which sort of had an effect as V smiles wanly in return.

He stands then and motions for you to come towards the railing. “Unless you prefer to take the stairs instead.”

“That way is probably faster I’m sure,” you say, pointing down the balcony to which he nods. “I mean, if you don’t mind having to carry me again.”

“I was actually going to just toss you over and hoped you’d land in the bushes, but I guess I can help you down.

“You’re so funny,” you say in return. At this rate, you’re never going to be able to live any of your failed escapades or fights down. “I appreciate your help.”

“My pleasure. I get to stretch my wings anyway so I don’t mind,” he reassures.

You step up beside him and he sweeps his arms beneath you with ease. His black wings spread wide before he shoots into the air, flying close above the ground all the way around to the other side of the castle.

Soon you reach the greenhouse and he glides down, hovering over the glass planes before he gently sets himself down on top of the ceiling. He carefully puts you down as well and walks to the middle where he crouches down to fiddle with the latch of the panel.

You go towards him, doing your best to not put too much pressure on the glass, terrified that it’ll suddenly shatter though it feels rather sturdy beneath your weight. “What are we doing exactly? Does the Queen not have a door?” You wonder.

“She does, but I don’t have the keys for it and I’d rather not ask her. It’s fine, we’ll go in this way.”

“We’re sneaking into your mother’s private garden?” You glance up towards the overhanging balconies above, afraid to see her catching you in the act.

“I’ve done this before when I was younger, don’t worry,” he reassures you, jiggling the latch and swinging the panel open. V lets his wings close and they soon shrink and disappear within his back before he drops down, landing lithely on his feet before signaling you to do the same.

Sitting down, you scooch towards the opening and let your feet dangle inside. Ever so slowly, you move forwards, eventually letting yourself slip through as well. The wind whooshes as you fall and he catches you, setting you to the ground right after.

Inside, the greenhouse is nearly filled to the brim with all sorts of plants, ranging from small bushes to flowers with all sorts of colors. Tables lay around the edges, with a long one in the middle, all holding a multitude of plants while some hang from above. A bench sits on one side, giving a clear view of the outdoor landscape extending out past the castle. The room seems to be divided between the plants you do recognize such as hydrangea, tulips, a few roses and the rest being completely foreign to you, their shapes twisting while the colors are extremely macabre.

Though the plants that you can’t identify aren’t appealing, you inch your way towards them to get a better look. V follows directly behind you, keeping close while you examine a splotchy grey flower. Its stem is a seemingly thin wire leading up to dull petals that spiral together. You lean forward and the petals snap open to reveal miniscule sharp dagger-like teeth reaching towards, causing you to jerk back.

“Most of the plants on this side do have the potential to harm you if you get too close,” V says, as the metallic flower slides closed once more, guiding you to stay away from the tables and remain in the middle of the aisle.

“I can see that.” You keep your distance while you walk around, afraid of going near any of them.

A small box of dirt is on the middle table holding half a dozen flowers, their stems made of bones, human arms to be exact, beginning from the forearm and extending up to the wrist where the fingers hold up the unfurled petals. From the color, you recognize it as skin, which combine with the white bones of the fingers at the base of the petals. The morbid flower sways, though it looks more like twitching from the wind. Only there’s no breeze here and you realize with horror that the wrist is causing it to move, the skin wiggling along with the bones attached to it. You shudder at the sight and V pulls you away as you back into him, feeling nausea writhe in your stomach.

“Those were gifts from my father,” he says, urging you to continue forward and you go around to make your way towards the other side where the normal plants are. “Personally, I don’t particularly care for any of the flora on that side, I prefer the more vibrant ones here,” he continues in an attempt to distract you.

“Yeah, I can see why,” is all you can say.

“Do you want to know which ones are my favorite?” When you nod he points to where a handful of flowers are enclosed, the nearly unfurled but not yet complete.

“They’re nice. What are they?”

“4’o clocks. They only open once at night before wilting by morning,” he explains, delicately caressing the bud. “Judging from the growth I assume they’ll be in full bloom tonight.”

A glimmer appears in your peripherals and you look to find the pond in the corner. Its water is crystal clear, aqua blue nearly transparent. You walk towards it, but V grasps your wrist, slowing your determined gait.

“I know you want to see your sister, but just remember that there’s a possibility she may not be in the best condition. From what you’ve told me so far, she’s not well and things can always change for better or worse.”

“I appreciate the warning, but she’s my sister; I have to know she’s doing.”

“Alright then. Take the item you’re going to dip into the pool and hold it with your fingers. The pond will show her current state as of this moment.”

You nod in understanding, reaching down to slide your anklet off and kneel beside the water. Pinching the colorful strings, you slowly submerge it, keeping only a small piece of it above with your pinched fingers. The water ripples where your anklet is before it cracks into fragments, like glass shattering, until it begins shimmering, as if tiny crystals are just below the surface. Now the entire pond is glittering, shining brightly just as an image forms within the water. It’s blurry at first and then it becomes sharper as a dark hospital room comes into view. Your sister lies in a hospital bed, her frame still and unmoving except for her shallow breathing. She’s much thinner from when you last saw her in person, her bones protruding through her skin, and she looks so frail.

As you watch, you wish you could move closer to touch her and comfort her or at the very least to see her better rather than watch like an indifferent spectator. Your parents enter the room at that moment, they’re faces drained from exhaustion. Your mom’s eyes are red with tears and your dad isn’t faring any better judging from the forming bruise beneath his jaw. He adjusts the pack of ice to position it better and your mom helps hold it.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” She asks worriedly.

“I’m fine, she just got a good hit in that’s all,” he gruffly reassures her, keeping his eyes fixated on your sister’s still form.

“That’s all?” She asks incredulously. “Our daughter tried to attack you and your only answer is ‘that’s all’?”

“What else do you want me to say?” He asks in equal exasperation. “That she somehow managed to muster enough strength to shove a security guard into the nearest wall and almost bit one of the nurses?”

“Four security guards had trouble restraining her and two doctors had to help sedate her. She had to be tranquilized like some animal and yet nothing is helping her here in the slightest,” her voice rising in volume before she lowers.

They both look to the bed, but your sister doesn’t stir in the slightest. Your dad sighs and rubs his hand tiredly across his face. “The doctors are doing everything they can to find out what’s wrong. We just need to be patient.”

“They’ve run so many tests and stuck her with who knows how many needles with no potential idea of what’s causing this. They’re going to keep going until there’s nothing left of her. And still they won’t find anything.”

He goes to sit down, letting himself collapse heavily into the chair. “What are you suggesting? We take her out of the hospital and move her somewhere else?”

“No, nothing like that. What if we looked into finding a priest or someone who could possibly cure her spiritually?”

It’s silent for a beat. “You watch too many of those ghost shows,” your dad scoffs.

“Think about it. No one should be able to have that much strength when they’re practically wasting away.”

“Adrenaline. Or just pure instinct brought on by fear. This isn’t some possession we’re dealing with here.”

“Even if we’re not, maybe having someone here to help calm her down and put her at ease.”

“Then we’ll get a psychologist or a counselor for that.”

“Okay, we can do both or all three, whatever works. I just need to do something to help because I can’t sit here doing nothing but wait.”

“I know, honey, I know. It’s killing me too. We’ll talk to the doctor in the morning and see what our options are.”

She goes to sit in the other chair beside him, leaning against his shoulder while he holds her hand between his own. “It’s going to be fine,” he murmurs.

You jerk your hand away from the water and the image fades before the water returns to its still form once more while you drop the anklet on the ground, not wanting to touch it anymore. The quiet air is deafening and you feel a sense of urgency bubbling within you.

V crouches beside you. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay,” you shudder. His words are filled with sympathy as one comforts another who’s grieving the loss of a loved one and you feel cornered within the greenhouse. “I need to go,” is all you manage before bolting for the door.

Your trembling hands fight to undo the latch as you shove it open, running across the sparse grass back to the castle. You don’t stop, barreling through the front door and nearly plowing into Lhaine who has a basket of laundry in her arms, but you keep going up the stairs as she calls after you until you’re finally inside your room. Slamming the door, you rush to bed and curl yourself tightly into a ball. The visions you saw are still in the forefront of your mind and though you clench your eyes closed, the image of your sister being restrained still there. A part of you shouldn’t even be surprised, she looks exactly the same in your dreams, but you had hoped it was just stress making your thoughts run rampant. If only that were the case.

A knock sounds at the door before Lhaine pushes it open dragging behind her laundry basket behind. “Hey, what happened?” She asks, taking in your fetal position on the bed. Leaving the basket by the door, she walks over to you and climbs into your bed, crawling until she wraps her arms around and pulls you close.

“I saw my sister,” you whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“V took me into the Queen’s private garden to let me use the pond.”

“How is she?” She tentatively asks.

“Not good, but she’s still alive, for now at least,” you mutter, nudging your head lower beneath her jaw.

“That’s good. And she’ll stay alive because you’re going to find a way to help her.”

“Your optimism is very much appreciated.”

The two of you sit in the quiet room and you slowly let your eyes droop shut.

When you wake up again, your bedroom is dark and you turn to look at the window, which shows it’s now nighttime where moving shadows wander freely around the walls. Lhaine is long gone and you assume she must’ve turned in for the night even though you’re not sure what time it is right now. The light rapping sounds again on the door and you realize that’s probably what caused you to wake up. Crawling off your bed, you walk to the door and when you open it you find the prince standing there.

His head shoots up in surprise. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“Is this a bad time? I wasn’t sure if you had already turned in for the night, so I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No, it’s fine. I was just resting,” you say, motioning him inside and he walks past you while you shut the door. “Also I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to run off like that.”

“It’s no problem. I understand this is probably all overwhelming for you,” he answers with a soft smile. “One of the reasons I came is because you left this by accident and I wanted to return it.” He holds out your anklet and you gratefully take it.

“Thank you.” You slip it back onto your ankle. “Wait, one of the reasons?”

“Ah, yes. I was hoping that if you were still awake I could show you something if that’s alright.” When you nod for him to continue, he pulls his shirt over his and walks toward your window and unlatches it. “Wait here please,” he says before jumping out. His wings unfurl as he gracefully lands on top of the greenhouse.

You watch as he opens the panel and slips inside. Using what little moonlight there is, you can see his shadow walking around the garden until he finds whatever it is he’s looking for and then flies back up, though he has to be mindful of his wings when climbing up. He flies up to your room with two sets of flowers in his hands. The first bunch he gives to you is a handful of small multicolored flowers, the petals a combination of swirling white and pink with hints of yellow sprinkled about.

“Are these the 4 o’clock flowers you were telling me about?” You wonder, raising them to your nose and sniffing them briefly and catch a whiff of sweet lemony citrus. “I like how they smell and they’re very pretty.”

“Yes, the variety of colors and their scent are mostly why they’re my favorite. And since they only bloom at a certain time, particularly in the night, is another reason. You get a small chance of seeing them in all their glory before they disappear. I think it makes them more special and enjoyable that way.”

“What about that one?” You ask, indicating to the other blossom in his hand to which he also gives to you. It’s beautiful, the trumpet-like blossom spreads open and you caress the waxy white petals as an intoxicating aroma encompasses you both.

“This is a Queen of the Night. It also only blooms at night before wilting by morning, but this one grows at different intervals so tonight it looks like we’re in luck.”

“While I’m very grateful for these gifts, are you sure the Queen is alright with this?” You can’t help but worriedly ask, wanting nothing more than to avoid any more conflicts within this place.

“Don’t worry, there are plenty more of these flowers that will bloom in due time. If she has an issue, she’ll ask father or I about it. I’ll let her know I borrowed some for personal reasons,” he reassures.

“Thank you, V, these are really pretty.”

“My pleasure, I’m glad you like them. I should let you rest now, tomorrow will be a busy day for you I’m sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“My friends, guests, will be joining us tomorrow morning and I can imagine Miss will have everyone prepare the castle before they arrive,” he explains.

“Oh, I see. Her task sheets will probably be twice as long,” you laugh.

“Goodnight, Y/N, and sleep well.”

“Have a goodnight, V.”

Once he leaves, you get ready for bed and leave the flowers resting on your nightstand. After bathing, you pull back the sheets and hear the sound of shuffling at your door. You look to see a paper sliding underneath with a stick or branch partially beneath the frame. Opening the door, you see no one, having just left the items here. Picking up the paper and what appears to be a flower, you read the note which simply says, “Enjoy the tuberose. Sweet dreams, V.” You look up and see what appears to be a male shadow turning the corner of the stairway. When you follow after it, the person and their shadow are gone, though you feel a rush of air that instantly engulfs you in a chill. Quickly returning to your room, you set the tuberose with the other flowers before getting into bed and hiding beneath the covers, wishing for sleep to come fast as you shiver under the blankets, body chilled to the bone.

~*~

Music and laughter fill your ears. Dazzling jewelry sparkles from the bright lights. Flashes of extravagant dresses and tailored suits dance before your eyes. Mysterious faces linger as various masks hide everyone’s true forms. Darkness engulfs you and the colors and sounds fade away. The weight of darkness presses heavily against you until you feel yourself slipping away into nothingness.

When the sun cannot find me, you shall succumb to my every whim. You are nothing and I am everything.

~*~

You have to resist the urge to groan when Miss hands you the paper that has tasks written on both sides. If only you could eat your predicting words from last night. As you head to the kitchen to collect the cans of gruel for the prisoners, you do a double take when your usual task is suddenly replaced with something different. Feed Zelda and other horses. Zelda, as in the prince’s zombie horse who wasn’t pleased at the fact you had to ride her the first time you met in the Crooked Forest. This should be interesting.

When you get outside, you’re happy to actually see the bright sunlight, wanting nothing to do with the night. Especially after having woken up in a cold sweat from the strange dream. It wasn’t its usual horror filled nightmare, but drowning in a never-ending sea of darkness is unpleasant to say the least.

Thankfully, you don’t have to go far to find the horse stables as they’re positioned just in front of the entrance to the castle. You step inside the stables, glad to have some shade to keep the blazing sunlight off your back, and carefully eye all the horses. Most aren’t bothered by your presence, ignoring you as you walk towards them with the bucket of spoiled vegetables. Going up to the first horse, you pinch the stem of the carrot and carefully hold it out to it. The horse sticks its head out the gate, chipped teeth biting into it before the vegetable is quickly chewed and swallowed. You do the same with the others with no issues at all.

That is, until you come up to the enormous black steed that glares down at you with empty sockets. Chef had said both the King and prince’s horses were to be fed three vegetables rather than one. Grabbing one carrot, you shakily extend your hand to it and the horse snatches it away, ingesting it quickly before reaching for another. Hurriedly, you feed the next two carrots to it and the horse snorts, the hot stench of its breath flares around you, causing you to cough from the smell.

Moving onto the next stable, you see Zelda already waiting for you. She whips her head impatiently, the remaining tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck shaking as well. You hold out a carrot, but she snaps down to where you have the bucket and you jerk away fearfully. The horse takes another bite at the air, her legs bumping against the gate keeping her in place, causing it to shudder from the impact.

“Zelda, no need to be rude,” V scolds from the entrance of the stable. You bow in greeting and he does the same to you. “Is she being difficult for you?” He asks.

“I think she’s just hungry,” you tell him. Even if the horse can’t understand, you don’t want her to get in trouble because of you and have her hate you more.

He hums, taking the rotting carrot from your hand and holding it towards her. When she reaches for it, he pulls back and her teeth bite with a loud clack. She neighs in agitation, whipping her head again. “Be nice to the servants and don’t cause any problems. Understand?”

The horse stares at him, her empty eye sockets conveying an array of emotions while he stares back in return. She nods with a huff and he lets her eat the food this time.

“Now you try,” he tells you, offering you to come forward. “She won’t misbehave while I’m here at least.”

Again, you grab a carrot and hold it out to her where she calmly takes it without fuss. When she eats her third one, you back away, not wanting to be too close to her in case she were to try and take a bite out of you next.

“Thank you again for letting me use the pond. And for giving me the flowers.”

“Of course. I’m glad you liked them as well though it’s a shame they wilt so quickly.”

“It is. But the tuberose is still alive at least.”

“Tuberose?” He asks curiously.

“Yeah, you left it at my door after you left along with the note.”

“I’m afraid that wasn’t me.”

“Oh, it had your name on it so I assumed. . .” your voice fades.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know who would have done that.”

“Your Highness!” Someone calls and both you and V turn to find a man standing on the front of a coach being pulled by horses. Another man is with him though he chooses to remain seated.

“Jay,” V chuckles. He turns back to you. “I’ll look into this mysterious person, but for the time being please be vigilant of your surroundings.” You nod and he gives a small sigh before smiling. “Now, shall we go greet my friends?”

Again, you nod and follow after him, wondering who, and what, exactly you’re about to greet.

— — — 

<— Previous | | Next —>

“I can’t believe she assigned me to feed the prisoners again,” she moans. The spoons she’s holding are put with the recently shined ones as she crouches to dig under the lower cupboard for the gruel.

Mel snickers at her friend’s whining. “You should make things interesting like last time. Prepare a special meal for them or something,” she advises.

“Hey, you should toss in a cluster of devil’s tongue. That’ll really spice up their day!” Rae suggests with a wide smile, gesturing to the red peppers hanging on the wall.

Bren rolls her eyes, ignoring the banter while reaching for the cans.

“Your jokes suck, Rae,” Mel scoffs in disgust, twisting the cap tight on the spice bottle. She makes her way towards Bren and snatches a handful of the vegetables from the stem. Cracking open a can of the grey mush, she crushes them within her palm, juice squirting out as it drips into the gruel. It would be easier just to ignore them, to walk away before they even notice your presence, and yet you find yourself doing the complete opposite.

“I can feed the prisoners, if you’d like.” Your quiet offering is met with three sets of eyes, each displaying an emotion of surprise, disbelief, and glee.

Mel is the one to respond to you. “Oh, human. What a perfect idea!” She didn’t have any trace of sarcasm in her voice, which you honestly weren’t expecting.

“I won’t do you any favors in return,” Bren interjects, brows furrowed as she sends you a glare.

You shake your head. “No, no, nothing like that. If you don’t want to go down there, then I don’t mind.”

She shrugs before moving around the counter to assist the other two with the spices. Making your way to the spot she just vacated, you dispose of the tampered cans and take out a new batch of prepackaged meals.

“Human, have you introduced yourself to the prisoners yet? Is that why you’re going down there?” The green haired girl asks out of curiosity.

The counter is stained red from the pepper juice and you grab a rag to clean the mess. “I wasn’t planning on it,” you wet the cloth with water, “I don’t think the prisoners would be interested in knowing who I am.”

Mel gasps at your response, spinning to stare at you in shock. “Of course, they want to know who you are! Why wouldn’t they?” She puts a hand on your shoulder and your arm stops wiping the countertop. “I thought even you humans had better manners than that.” Her eyes are solemn, regarding you with disappointment, as if you had admitted to pissing in their food.

Breaking free from her gaze, you awkwardly move away and quickly finishing cleaning. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

She smiles. “It’s fine, human, just don’t forget to tell them your name. I’m sure it’s very unique.” The dry tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you and so you merely nod in agreement, setting the cans in a bucket.

Moving past them, Bren glances up. Her mouth opens, voice catching as she hesitates and you stop. “You shouldn’t,” the words get caught, as if she can’t decide on how to phrase her sentence. Her blue eyes drop down uncertainly and they linger below at the bucket before they harden like ice. “You should be sure to introduce yourself to number 14, he’ll like that.”

“Okay,” though your affirmation feels more like a question as you walk by her and down the dark steps of the dungeon.

The basement is just as dimly lit as before with flickering lights being your only guide. As you make your way to the confined prisoners, Hakyeon lifts his head upon hearing your approach, yellow irises watching you with interest.

“So you decided to come back, eh?” His teeth appear to shine under the dull glow of the lanterns as you crouch down and give him a can. He yanks on the tab, cracking the metal open before taking a short swig of the thick substance.

The rest of the people scrabble across the concrete floor, fingers desperately reaching for food and you rapidly pass them out. “I did,” you reply, watching the others retreat into their respective positions.

Hakyeon hums in appreciation, scooting closer towards you. “Will this be a common occurrence?” He wonders as he sets the gruel down. His head presses against the solid bars holding him captive and you eye him dubiously, golden gaze peering from between the metallic grey.

You shrug, “It depends on what chores Miss assigns me.”

He scoffs lightly, flicking his hair to the side. “She won’t care if you take over other people’s tasks so long as your own get done.” Before you can answer, his hand slips through the bars to grasp your foot, fingers lightly touching your ankle. “Did you stop by so you could tell me your name, human?”

“No,” you snap.

“Well that’s not very nice,” the man pouts. “You seemed like the type of person who had manners. Shame,” he sighs. His nails caressing your skin send shivers along your leg and you resist the urge to shudder.

Your hand slides down and grasps his own before carefully tugging it away. “It’s also rude to touch people without permission.” You let go of his hand, watching him blink once, easy smile turning up on one side.

“Fair enough. Then you have my apologies, human. I’ll be mindful of your boundaries in the future.” He sits back against the wall and returns to eating. “Nice accessory by the way,” he compliments, side eyeing the ribbon wrapped around your wrist appreciatively.

“Thanks, I think,” you mutter. Standing up, you reach for the bucket. “I should get going.” You take a step back and turn around, briskly walking towards the door.

“Give my regards to your dear sister,” he cheerfully calls and you instantly still, hands gripping on the bucket handle as though it were anchoring you in place.

Your back stiffens, knowing full well that you’re being watched with heavy interest on your reaction.  Turning your head to the side, you look over your shoulder and meet the demon’s eyes. “Who said anything about a sister?” Play his game, but don’t give him what he wants.

Hakyeon drops his head to the side. “That anklet didn’t make itself. And it’s somehow connected to a girl withering away in some hospital bed.” His eyes appear to glow as you walk back over.

Leaning down to where you’re hovering over his seated position, you have half a mind to yank on his head of silky hair and demand that he tells you everything. “Who told you?” Your whisper hisses between your teeth and the molten gold glimmers in his irises.

He gets to his knees, hands wrapping around the bars as he comes face to face with you. “Does it matter? Shouldn’t you be more concerned with the fact that she’s dying? She’s not going quietly either.”

“You know what’s wrong with her.”

“Do I?” His eyelashes flutter innocently, sparking more anger inside of you.

Curling your lips, you ask the dangerous question. “What do you want?”

The man giggles like an excited child, causing a stir among the others as they jerk at the noise. “Now we’re talking.” He practically jumps to his feet and you realize it’s the first time you’ve seen any of the people in the cells stand. Everyone else can barely manage a crawl, as if their energy has been sapped long ago, but not him. This demon looked ready for a dance, a tango that served as a duel between two people. “Tell me your name if you want to build this relationship first. I only work with clients I trust,” he insists.

You also stand at your full height, giving off a sense of superiority. “Who says I can be trusted? Or you for that matter?”

“I do,” he smoothly replies, his cat like eyes observing you thoughtfully. “Mutual trust can’t be acquired if you won’t introduce yourself to me. It’s as if you think I’ll take advantage of you,” his upper lip curls in offense.

“Demons aren’t exactly known for their integrity.”

Your scoff is met with a groan as Hakyeon drops his head against the metal bars, a dull clang echoing from the impact. “It isn’t wise to generalize and group every demon into one category. Now,” he snaps his fingers twice, “your name or get out. I grow bored of this banter.”

Survival instincts tell you to lie, to make something up, anything to keep from relinquishing any ounce of control, but you’re desperate. Desperate for any piece of information and he knows it.

With a resigned sigh, you mumble your name into his ear and he picks his head up. “Finally, we’re making progress. Humans and their qualms, I’ll never understand them,” he laughs to himself as he slides back to the ground, legs spread out on the floor.

“I need you to tell me how I can help my sister, please.” Time was of the essence for both you and her. You didn’t want to bother using it on someone who was just going to lead you on a wild goose chase.

Hakyeon scratches the underside of his chin, contemplating his response. “It seems like she’s dealing with possession, sweet Y/N. Such a nasty experience,” he shudders. The demon steals a glance towards you and catches the horror scrawled across your face.

Tremors wrack your frame as the words fully process themselves into viable sentences. Possession. It shouldn’t surprise you after everything you’ve experienced so far and yet you’re just as lost as before. A sense of déjà vu washes over you when the same questions bubble in your mind. How could this have happened? When did it start? These thoughts swirl manically and you shake your head to unscramble them. Focus on a solution first.

“Okay, so something’s killing her. A demon, I guess?” Your voice quivers as you look to the imprisoned man, surprised to find him watching you with pity.

“So it would seem. Probably by an Engulfed as they’re the cause of most possessions.”

“Does this mean she needs to be exorcised? Will that save her?”

He barks a laugh, “You make it sound so simple. To rid somebody of a demon you’d need to perform a ritual yourself, enough to weaken it and then banish it with positive energy. That could be an old Cross-wielder or someone with their own remedies and charms.”

Your teeth dig into your lip, steeling yourself to continue with your pressing inquiries. “You wouldn’t happen to know said ritual, would you?”

Hakyeon grins and looks up at you. “I’m so glad you asked. Unfortunately, I don’t know the procedure by memory, but I know where you can find it. It’s a specific book you see,” he rubs his jaw and thinks for a moment, “sorry, but the title isn’t coming to me at the moment.”

Huffing, you crouch next to the cell. “What else do you want? I doubt I’m capable of freeing you,” you remark with a glance at the locked door.

Grabbing the can of gruel, he takes another sip. “Oh, you’re definitely capable of escaping, but not without getting caught. Honestly, who trusts the creepy painting in the library?” He notes, his tone light. “Tch, calm down, darling,” he laughs upon seeing your worried expression. “You and your prince’s secrets are safe with me. How about this? I’ll be nice and make this easy for you. In the library there’s a book called Fractum Animarum.It’s going to be on the first level, on the bottom shelf of one of the bookcases. It’s blue, so you can’t miss it.”

“That’s pretty specific for someone who’s stuck down here day and night.”

“I have my resources,” he replies simply. “All I ask in return is for a small book.” His hand dips into the grey ooze. Coating the tips of his fingers, he draws an odd symbol on the concrete. “It won’t have a title, just this picture. Check the side tables for it,” he suggests as he wipes his hand on the floor.

“How do you know I’ll come back? You just gave me all the information I need,” you point out.

His hand slips through the bars and a finger lightly bops the tip of your nose as he smiles with elation. “It’s all about trust, sweet Y/N. Besides, I’m sure you won’t be able to resist coming back later.”

You stand with the bucket and utter a short thanks, heading out of the dungeon with renewed vigor. Your assigned tasks are completed fast and you’re dismissed just before dinner. Taking advantage of the extra time, you head up to the library. The door swings open while you step inside, keeping an eye, and ear, out for the boy that’s surely nearby. Thankfully, you spot him by one of the book carts towards the back writing on the inside cover of some book.

Despite wanting to just find the books and then get out without saying a word, you choose to announce yourself, more so for pleasantries than anything. “Hi, Ink,” you call, though it’s ignored as the small figure continues working.

Shrugging, you head to the enormous bookshelves, ducking low so you scan the rows. After a few minutes, you resort to crawling on your hands and knees as your search takes longer than expected. That demon better not have been lying.

“What’re you doing, you weirdo?” Ink wonders from behind.

You jump at the closeness of his voice and look to find him sitting on the arm of the couch. “Trying to find a book,” is all you say.

“How do you know it’s down there?”

“I have a feeling.”

His white eyes follow you as you crawl past another two bookshelves before you’re finally victorious in your hunt. Just as the demon predicted, you see the blue text resting on the very end of the shelf. You gently tug the thick book out and get to your feet, knees aching from kneeling on the cobble.

Upon seeing the book, the boy quirks his head to the side and reads the binding. “Why’re you interested in a book about possessions?” When you turn to face him, he jumps off the couch, waiting expectantly for an answer.

“Research,” you reply. “Ink, is it okay if I take some books to my room? I promise I’ll keep them safe,” you reassure him when he eyes you with what is obvious skepticism.

“Whatever,” he says before transporting to the other side of the room as he goes back to work.

Making your way towards the library’s entrance, you see a green book lying on one of the tables and you recognize the symbol that Hakyeon drew on the floor earlier. It’s a tiny notebook with a little pencil inside the spiral binding. Deciding to bring it just in case, you grab the book before leaving. You make a detour through the kitchen and snatch two slices of bread, letting Lhaine know that you’re going to turn in early for the night.

Biting into your dinner, you set the books down on your desk and search for the bound paper and ink so you can take some notes. Opening the heavy tome, you go to the first page and start reading.

For many centuries, the art of spiritual possessions has been taught by way of our forefathers. Only those with power and strength within their blood are successful enough to take control of a human being. Beginning with vulnerable mortals is critical for those who seek influence over greater subjects.

This volume is divided into three significant parts: The Desecration, The Conquering, and The Exalted. Each section will guide users on the proper techniques as well as cautionary performances that must be considered to ensure effective ownership of the mind and body.

Regardless of religious affiliation or lack thereof, the host can and must be stripped of rational thought, entering a state of impulses and irrational behavior. Align with particular negative responses the host may exhibit. Higher frequencies of outbursts will wither the spirit quicker. Abstain from holy relics until endurance has been built to withstand the burns.

You sift through the pages and find the subheading titled Demon Species. The first one listed is called Psychlin (L–1) and a small drawing of agremlin with spiked horns is sketched underneath.

Those with Psychlinblood are usually the most skilled when taking a host.

Scribbling down each piece of information, you start a list of things that seem important and then some questions you could ask Hakyeon.

–Psychlin typically prey on the living

–Mark the host with three scratches on the skin

–Transformation process ranges from 3–27 days depending on the severity

The next page had Mindweavers (G–2). A creature brandishing fangs snarls up at you.

–Prey on the last souls in Hell

–Leaves bite marks

–Where do these demons live?

Turning the pages, you find the species Engulfed (R–3). This one doesn’t have any sketch. Remembering the demon’s previous words, you eagerly scan the contents, only to find the paragraphs written in an archaic language of symbols. The next couple of pages offer the same result until moving onto the next section, which returns to a discernable language. Maybe Lhaine can help you with translating. While you’re writing, a chill creeps up your spine when you see horrific drawings of mutilated people, souls crying in anguish.

Your head shoots up at the scraping sound. Did your bed just move or was that your chair shifting beneath your weight? The groaning wood had to have just been the floorboards. It’s an old castle, that’s all. You peek a glance over your shoulder, but the dim lighting doesn’t help.

You stand and gasp upon seeing the shadow on the opposite wall. It’s just your shadow. Shaking your head, you halfheartedly wave your right arm so your imagination will calm down. Your silhouette obeys, only slightly to the right of you. The shadow directly across stays still.

Heart pounding, you jerk your neck around, but no one’s there. Facing forward again, you see nothing. Sweat dips along your skin, shoulders heaving as your silhouette pants along with you. Frantically, you snatch the oil lamp and pace around your room, looking for any sign of the shadowy figure.

You’re just tired. It’s been a long day and it’s late. These reassurances do nothing to stifle the fear clawing inside you as you put your things away before rushing to bed. Blowing out the flame, you bury yourself beneath the covers and shut your eyes tightly, begging for sleep to come quickly.

                                                                 ~*~

The next morning you speed through your tasks. Even Ink can only watch with piqued curiosity as you wipe the tables down with fervor, milky eyes observing you from his perch on the cart. After your lunch, you make a quick stop to your room to bring your books and notes. Except for Chef cleaning the dishes, the kitchen is vacant much to your relief. Holding your things to your chest, you head inside the dungeon.

Hakyeon grins when he sees you and your lips press into a thin line. “Hello, darling! Back with more sustenance?” He wonders.

The demon lithely stands at your approach, but your posture doesn’t ease. “I won’t be able to resist coming back, huh?”

He flicks his onyx bangs aside. “Must be my charms.”

“Not exactly.”

This morning you’d shown Lhaine the encrypted passage and asked if she could read what was written. “Do you think my mom would waste her time teaching me to read Daemon writing like that?” She’d scoffed, brushing her hair with a skeletal comb. “Maybe the Prince could help you when he gets back.”

You didn’t have time to waste waiting on V’s return and you doubted anyone else would be willing to help, which left you with only one option. Return to the dungeon just as the demon anticipated. Opening the text to the unreadable passage, you show Hakyeon the odd symbols, to which he points a knowing finger. “Ah, I wondered if it’d be in the Old Daemon language.”

“Forgot to mention that part,” you scowl.

He shrugs half-heartedly. “At least I pointed you in the right direction. Now, anything interesting for me?” He grips the bars of the cell, casually propping his head on them. You pull out the small notebook with the attached pencil and his gaze immediately focuses on it. “So you did manage to find it,” he smiles fondly.

“I did.”

Hakyeon pulls his eyes away from the book and back to you. “Want to trade?” His hand stretches out while you keep the book close to you, out of his reach.

Gripping the pencil, you turn to the first page lined with a grid. “I could, but it seems like such an interesting game to play.”

His brows raise in humor. “You know how to play Soul Snatch?”

“No,” you snort, “but I could always figure it out through trial–and–error. It’d be a pain to erase all the pages, but I doubt I’d use all of them.” The pencil is poised over the paper and you steal a glance to find him biting his lower lip.

“My my, look at you learning the demon way of bartering. I like it.”

“So you’ll help me?”

He grins. “For the book I’ll gladly repay you with knowledge.”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “In exchange for translating, I’ll give you the unused book.”

Gritting his teeth at your counteroffer, Hakyeon keeps his smile polite while he straightens himself. Adjusting the collar of his thin shirt, he sighs begrudgingly. “Unfortunately, you do have the upper hand, for now,” he amends. “I accept your offer, Ms. Y/N.”

Setting the blue textbook on the ground outside the cell, you both sit on the ground while you gather your notes. As he reads, you do your best to keep up, scrawling bits of information in a daze.

–Engulfed are the first species to ever possess a host

–Will immediately find a new host after losing the previous one

–Like poison, slowly taints the soul

–Host can last a maximum of three years

“Wait,” he pauses and quizzically looks at you. “That last part, about only living three years. . . my sister’s been sicker for longer than that.”

Hakyeon gives you a sympathetic smile. “Engulfed like to play with their toys. If it’s an older one, it could keep her alive for five, possibly ten years, if it so pleased.”

Your hand rubs your face, fingers digging harshly. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

He reaches through the bars and lightly pats your leg. “I’m sorry to say, but she’s already danced on the line between the living and the dead a multitude of times.”

Your blood chills as you raise your head slowly. “What?” Vehemently, you disregard his admittance. “No, she’s not—she can’t be—”

“She’s not dead, not yet, but at this rate it may not be long,” he warns you, golden eyes holding slight reassurance. “There’s still time. I’m only saying at this rate another few months is highly unlikely.”

A few months. Hope is already waning along with your sister and yet even with all this information, it’s not much. How could she have gone from being sick to death’s door so quickly? Something had to have triggered this reaction, a catalyst that could’ve stimulated such negative effects.

“Is it possible for them to be summoned?” You find yourself asking aloud.

Hakyeon contemplates this before shaking his head. “No, not an Engulfed. They tend to do their own bidding at their own discretion. Why do you ask?”

You turn the pages in search of anything related to summoning rituals while you explain your thought process to him. “Before I came here, another demon named Sir met my sister. That’s when she started getting worse.”

“Sir as in the Collector?” He props his head under his palm, fingers tapping his chin. “Even if he did possess that level of power an Engulfed doesn’t follow orders. The energy from his presence could’ve strengthened it, but he can’t directly influence those creatures.”

So much for that lead. “Okay,” you sigh, “does it say anything about exorcising them?”

Hakyeon regards you blankly. “This may be a handbook about Possession demons, but I can assure you an exorcising ritual won’t be listed here. Might as well put a holy relic on the cover,” he laughs.

“Well, what about summoning one?” The laugh dies from his throat and you grimace painfully. “I’m just asking.”

He coughs once. “There is a spell for that listed, but it might be better to have your prince present for that.” Closing the book, he slides it towards you before standing up and stretching. “You don’t want to accidentally set a rare demon loose in the castle.”

As he pops his shoulders, you tuck your notes inside and collect your things. “I’d rather not do that unless there’s no other choice left.”

“Only time will tell. Check around the library, there’s plenty of books I’m sure.” He examines his cuticles though they’re surprisingly in pristine condition. Feeling your stare, his attention rises to you. “Yes?”

“Why’re you helping me?” You whisper.

It’s silent for a moment, the two of you watching one another before he blinks in rapid succession. “You have something I want, why else?” he answers and holds his hand out, palm up.

Slowly, you give him the green notebook and he plucks it from your grasp. “A book where you play games sounds insignificant for someone like you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he giggles. “But I can assure you that the contents in this book makes passing the time in this cell worthwhile.” He flicks the pages in a blur before tucking it into his shirt. “I’ll return it in a few days,” he promises.

Nodding, you head out the dungeon and rush to put the book away before going back to your tasks. Though V isn’t home, you still have to clean his room and as you stack the documents on his desk, you wonder how the trip is going with his father. You pick up one of his chokers from the floor and you admire the silken ribbon adorning your wrist. The bruises have nearly faded, but he seemed insistent that you continue to wear it. Fluffing the pillows on his bed, you exit his room and bump into someone as you’re closing the door.

Rae glares, protectively clutching the Queen’s freshly washed dress. She hisses. “Watch where you’re—” Her retort fades, instead muttering, “Excuse me, pet,” her upper lip curling at the word. Stepping around you, she continues on her way without another word.

Perplexed, you can only do the same, going to the kitchen where Lhaine is already eating dinner. Placing the salty pieces of meat within the cabbage, she rolls the soggy vegetable and bites into it. Chef gives you your rations and you sit beside your friend on the stool.

“Rae apologized to me just now when I was on my here,” you blurt, causing Lhaine to chuckle around her food.

“Bet that was a sight to see. Congratulations, she’s probably plotting your demise.” She glances at you. “I mean, I wouldn’t put it past her,” she adds.

You bite into the red meat. “She was about as nice to me as she could manage, though she did call me pet. Even her apologies are littered with insults,” you remark dryly.

Lhaine tucks her hair aside as she takes another bite of her lettuce wrap. “Obviously. I’m surprised it’s the first time you heard someone call you that.”

Your chewing slows as you turn to her. “Pet?”

She nods and drinks a swig of water. “That’s what you are now, sweetie.” Her eyes drift down as she looks at the purple ribbon.

“I’m considered a ‘pet’ because of this?” You indicate to your wrist.

“Yeah,” she draws the word out. “I guess the Prince didn’t mention that part to you.” Sucking on her teeth, your friend takes a bite of bread and chews for a moment. “Well, you’re officially moving up in the ranks. As best as a human can at least.”

“All because of a ribbon?”

“It’s not just a ribbon,” she retorts. “It’s a symbol of status. The Prince gave you, a human, a ribbon with the family’s color. You’re no longer just a servant, you’re his pet as we call it.” Your fingers play with the silk, touching the fabric until you abruptly untie it. “What’re you doing?”

You set it on the table and continue eating. “Taking it off. He said it was to cover the bruise, but I don’t think it’s necessary. I’m sure everyone already knows what happened.”

“They do,” Lhaine agrees. “I mean; I don’t think he was lying. Supposedly it’s also a ward of protection. No one can harm you while you’re wearing it. Whether that’s in the literal or figurative sense, I don’t know,” she mumbles around her bread.

“I think I’ll take that chance,” you reply.

She shrugs and wipes her mouth of crumbs with the back of her hand. “Suit yourself.”

Later that night, you sit in your bed and look at the pouch of powder the Queen had given you. Worrying your bottom lip, you tuck the blue satchel into your nightstand dresser. You move to your desk and open the book once more, peering over your shoulder briefly only to find nothing amiss. That didn’t mean the shadow couldn’t still be lurking nearby. Though you’ve been reassuring yourself it was just a figment of your imagination, a result of you being delirious, you couldn’t put your mind at ease. Shoving your fears aside, you eventually lose yourself within the demonic text. With each turn of the page, you take little notes here and there for reference, yet there’s no discernable information that’s helpful. You debate on going to the library and seeing what other material you can scrounge up, but watery eyes are disrupting your vision.

Stifling a yawn, you glance at your window, which only showcases endless darkness with looming fires in the distance. You lightly slap your face before collecting your notes and leaving your room. Padding quietly down the hall, you make your way to the library and gently ease the door open. Your feet guide you to the shelf where you originally found the blue book. Sitting down, you pull the books down and begin reading. Pictures and varying descriptions line the colorful tomes, but none providing the information you needed. Most of them pertain to the history and origins of Possession demons without offering anything about banishing or getting rid of them.

There’s a pop from beside you, causing you to jolt upright. “Good morning, Ink,” you say to the boy sitting next to you.

“You moving into the library or something?” He asks, looking at the books scattered before you.

You laugh, shoving a red book back onto the shelf. “No, just doing some homework. You want to help me?”

“Why would I do that?” He leans his head against wall, ink dripping, but not staining the cobble.

“I don’t know. Maybe because you want to be nice, maybe you’re just bored.” Ink rolls his eyes, but says nothing. “Why’re you up anyway?” Hardly any light is seeping through the purple curtains, darkness making a slow retreat as the sun rose.

Ink stands. “I’m an early riser. Also morning call will be here soon.” He teleports to another cart and starts his work for the day.

“Thanks for the warning.” You shut the books with a sigh and go put everything in its original place.

“Whatever,” you hear him groan.

Chuckling to yourself, the wooden door shuts behind you as you head to the servant’s quarters.

“Little thing,” a baritone voice calls in greeting. Further down the hall, you see V standing at the top of the stairwell. His golden blond hair immediately draws your attention amidst his black outfit. How he managed to remain so presentable despite the early hours is beyond you.

“Your Highness,” you greet politely as you approach him.

Leaning against the railing, he cocks his head to the side upon noticing your notes. “What’re you doing up so early? I didn’t think morning call had started yet,” he points out with a gentle smile.

You shake your head. “It hasn’t, I just couldn’t sleep.” When he frowns you wave off his worries. “I’ve been reading a lot, that’s all. How was your trip?”

He huffs a laugh. “Oh, splendid. It consisted of the usual arguments over who should have control over which territories. Eventually we got to the main point of the gathering,” his fingers rub the side of his temple while he rolls his bloodshot eyes.

“Fun,” is all you say.

“Eh, the snide comments make it entertaining.”

You’d expected to hear about something more violent, such as a physical brawl, but apparently rude remarks and insults sufficed well enough for royal demons. “At least it’s over now.”

“True,” he nods in agreement.

Sending him a sympathetic smile, you ease past him on the stairwell until you’re stopped when his hand catches your own. He’s looking at your wrist, thumb grazing your skin. “You’re not wearing the ribbon.” He cocks his head to the side.

Of course he would notice. “I decided to go without it,” you admit.

He stiffens, eyes darting up to you. “Why? Did something happen?” His voice is gruff, a promise of retribution hidden underneath.

“No, no,” is your quick reassurance and he settles once more against the stairs. “I just felt like a possession when I wore it.”

The wrinkles in his forehead deepen. “But you’re not a possession.”

Shifting awkwardly, you nod slightly. “I know, but people started calling me ‘pet’ because I’m human and that’s what the ribbon means.”

“Yes, but it’s more so for your well-being and protection. That’s how we’re able to display our status.”

“I get that, it’s just—” you sigh, “why didn’t you tell me what it meant?”

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder. “I didn’t think it was important.”

“You didn’t think it was important to know that people would consider me as your ‘pet?’”

“I don’t consider you my pet.” “You may not, but that’s the message being sent.”

He looks at you directly then, a glimpse of contemplation evident within his irises as though he were studying a math equation. “That wasn’t my intention,” he eventually answers after a moment of silence. “I merely didn’t want a recurrence of the previous night to happen again.”

“And I appreciate that, but I don’t like the connotations behind the ribbon. Besides I really don’t think I’ve earned any favoritism at this point.”

His lips part to answer, but then a screeching whistle echoes from downstairs and you slip your wrist from his grasp. “Excuse me, Your Highness, I need to get to work.”

He blinks slowly as your departure tugs his attention from his inner thoughts. Nodding more to himself, the prince rubs his reddened eyes and wishes you well. Pushing off the railing, he turns the corner while you head downstairs.

Showering and changing quickly, you set about to complete your tasks. Throughout the day, you’re mostly kept upstairs and so there’s no chance of visiting Hakyeon. With a rag and duster in hand, you go to the library, but briefly pause in front of the large doors. You weren’t assigned to clean his room, yet the purple ribbon is still tucked into your pocket after having taken it off. Hesitating, you glance at his door before going to stand in front of it. Raising a hand, your nails manage a small tap though you know it’s too quiet to be heard.

You crack the door open, allowing a sliver of light to enter the dark room and you can barely see the figure tucked into the mass of blankets. V lies on his stomach, a pillow below him as his onyx wings spread out above him, fluttering calmly in sync. You tiptoe towards his desk, sliding the drawer open so you can slip the ribbon inside. Faintly, you hear the bed shift and you spin around. V throws his leg further over the pillow he’s clutching until settling once more. Witnessing this tranquility from him makes you wonder how often he’s allowed to be at rest, without having to worry about others watching his every move. Feeling intrusive, your feet quickly pad across the carpet as you slip through the door before turning the knob and shutting it.

                                                                 ~*~

Later that night, you’re sitting on your bed with the borrowed book across your lap. After poring through the demonic class and species section, you’ve moved onto the symptoms of a possession. Once properly implanted within the host, resort to subtle influences to begin the desecration. To weaken the spirit, the flesh must also be compromised. Weakening the host body with physical illnesses is recommended.

Thud.

You jump at the noise and carefully raise your head. Everything in your room is still the same. Thinking it must’ve been out in the hall, you’re about to return to your reading until you see your closet door glide open. Besides your clothes and towels, nothing else is inside. If only you could blame it on the wind, yet there’s not even a slight draft for a breeze. What looks to be a black mass appears in your peripherals, but when you turn there’s nothing on the bare wall. Slamming the book shut, you throw it on your desk and yank open your nightstand. Unfastening the pouch, you scoop a spoonful of powder and dump it into your cup. There’s not a chance you’re going to sleep with paranoia at the forefront of your mind. Downing the water, you douse the flame in your lamp and go to bed.

Flashing light burns your retinas. Black feathers drop to the ground in messy clumps. Someone hovers in the air before collapsing to the ground. You sway and the person stumbles. The world shifts and reorients itself. A colorless void stretches forth. The dawn no longer bleeds from the night. V lies in a heap before your feet. Your hands are coated wet, never-ending liquid draining from running wounds.

When the sun cannot find me, you shall succumb to my every whim. You are nothing and I am everything.

You heave a gasp, desperately sucking in air. Your mind is hazy, the humidity suffocating the room as though you’re underwater. Stumbling from the bed, you trip over your sheets and burst into the hall. The short breeze barely cools your skin, a pool of heat steaming across your back as you wobble forward. The thin door careens into the wall when you go inside without knocking. She won’t care.

“Sis,” you pant. The figure mumbles a response beneath the sheets and you poke her arm. “Can I stay here tonight?” You tug at the blankets and she pulls them back up. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you prod her again until she finally sits up.

“Are you sleepwalking or something?” She groans, shoving her tangled hair aside as she blearily looks up from her pillow.

Crimson eyes vanish the remnants of sleep and memories as reality drifts back. The desolate room is identical to your own and yet there isn’t an ounce of comfort to be found. “Lhaine, I—I’m sorry.”

She blindly feels around for the matches on her bedside table and lights one of the sticks. The wick catches fire and she dips it into the oil lantern where a flame awakens. “Another nightmare I suppose,” she says and you nod.

“I had them a lot growing up. Her room was right across the hall like yours.” Your gaze remains fixated on the thin sheets, fingers playing with a hole in the fabric.

Sitting silently, Lhaine puffs her cheeks out in a half-hearted sigh. Pushing the covers down, she pats the mattress. “Come on, then,” she coaxes while sliding herself to the other side of her bed. You don’t move closer, but rather lean away as you go to stand. Her hand latches onto your own, warm grip tight as she urges you back. “You’re already here, might as well stay.”

Falling into the lone pillow, you rest your head up against her own while you both get situated. “Thanks,” you mumble.

She grunts in acknowledgement, glancing at the clock that indicates it’s half past one. “At least we’ll get a few hours of sleep.” You’re about to apologize, but then she’s rolling over the other way. The words fade on your lips as you watch her breathing even out, light snores following soon after.

You press your cheek further against the pillow and pull the covers over your shoulder. Shutting your eyes, it feels like mere minutes pass until you’re shaken awake. Lhaine hovers above you, a towel wrapped around her waist. Her hair is damp, the tendrils dripping water onto her sheets. The lamp on her nightstand illuminates her figure, ruby irises twinkling from the flickering flame.

“It’s barely four, but I figured you’d want to get back before someone sees you,” she suggests, climbing off the bed. She sits down at her desk while you sit up. Yawning, you stretch, joints fluidly popping as you shift your legs over the side.

“Are we not allowed in each other’s rooms?”

Lhaine shrugs, grabbing her comb so she can work on detangling her hair. “We can, but sleepovers aren’t recommended. We’re here to work, not socialize.”

It’s silent, save for the sound of her brushing. “I’m sorry about last night,” you murmur softly.

She doesn’t stop brushing, jerking the comb’s teeth efficiently, though you can hear the strands being pulled taut. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll admit it was actually nice to have someone sleeping beside me again.”

You stare at her back curiously. “Did you used to share your room with someone else?”

Her movements falter, the brush catching only air. “No, not here at least.” Sighing, she resumes once more. “Back home though, I used to share my bed with one of my sisters.” She pauses and sets the comb down while you silently wait. “Age wise we were the closest in the batch, so we stuck together the most.”

“Oh. Did you drift apart after you came here?”

She laughs, though it’s dryness evaporates any humor from it. “If only. Nah, mom ate her.” Glancing at you over her shoulder, her lips barely lift. “She was the runt and only the strong are meant to live. Survival of the fittest and all that shit,” she sneers.

“Your mom ate her?”

Lhaine licks her lips. “Uh huh. Usually it’s the other way around with the spider hatchlings eating the mom if necessary, but nope, my mom’s special like that.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. . .me too.” Standing abruptly, she unwraps her towel before tossing it aside. “Ha, look at me spilling secrets like that. And not even a drop of wine to go along with it.”

“Lhaine,” you say only for her to roll her eyes and wave you away.

She slips her dress over her body, tying the strings with articulate precision. “Don’t worry about me, just go get changed already. I’ll see you in a bit,” she says dismissively.

Her back is to you, so you’re unable to catch a glimpse of her facial expression. Before losing your nerve, you walk toward her and wrap your arms around her waist, cheek pressing against her protruding shoulder joint. She sighs, yet her muscles relax beneath your hold slightly.

“I mean; I would’ve been the first to go if not for her. Yet the wretched maggot lives on,” she mutters under her breath.

You scoff. “You’re more than that.”

“Obviously. I’m a wicked black widow now.” Chuckling to herself, she pats your arm and you let go.

After reassuring you multiple times that she’s fine, you eventually leave to get ready. Shutting the door quietly behind you, you go to your room and gather your shower supplies. As you walk down the corridor, you’re left contemplating the recent news Lhaine had just revealed. It isn’t until you’re standing under the lukewarm water that you let the tears fall.

———

<—Previous | | Next—>

Gasping, you drop the molar and skitter back. While you hated your lack of vision, a part of you was actually glad you couldn’t see because at least you didn’t have to worry about the gruesome sights that were in this cave. Rising to your feet, you using your toe, you drag it around and trace the outline of something hard. It was smooth and as you followed the curved object, you push the human jaw off to the side so you wouldn’t accidentally step on it.

Keeping your hands against the rocky walls, you follow the path until it curves to the left, staying as close as you can while thankfully avoiding any other body parts. You walk further and further, deeper into the abyss until a glimmer of light shines at the end of the tunnel. It is merely a pinprick, a soft blue, and you can’t help but make your legs move faster, excitement filling your body like a caterpillar of hope metamorphosing into a butterfly of relief. You nearly stumble on a rock, but it doesn’t stop your determination as you press forward.

The speck of blue grows closer and you realize the source is coming from a stout lantern, cold flame flickering eerily. It is not until you are right in front of it that you see the figure curled up on the opposing side.

The girl had her back to you, her shoulders hunched as she doubled over, whimpers and soft cries escaping her mouth. If it weren’t for the bracelet wrapped around her ankle, you wouldn’t have recognized her.

Your sister looked frail, a skeleton compared to the last time you remember seeing her, not that she had been in a perfect state of health then either. It was uncanny, the way her bones began to poke at the edges of her flesh, skin purple and bruised. If her body wasn’t shuddering, you would have presumed her dead.

“Faith,” your whisper feels loud as it bounces around the cavern and you wince at the sound.

The cries stop abruptly, the sob cut short as she freezes. You watch the figure turn slowly, barely moving at all, and it seems like forever until you finally catch a glimpse of her side profile.

Pink muscle peeks out from her rotting cheekbone, but it’s not the decomposing face that terrifies you. It’s her milky white eyes. Once kindled with a gentle fire, those orbs only house an empty coldness, free from all life and personality.

You don’t have to time to speak or even form a coherent thought.

The scream that skitters up her throat is wild and animalistic, the hair on your arms flinging upward at the grating sound. She lunges and tackles you to the ground.

“You bitch! This is your fault! You fucking did this to me!” she wails from above you.

You try to push her off, grabbing her arms and decomposing face, anywhere you can to keep her away, but she smacks your hands away. “Faith, wait! What are you doing?”

She doesn’t respond, and you only get a glimpse of her elongated nails before they are embedding themselves into your body. Your sister tears into your flesh, soft skin shredding like paper as your hot blood seeps out of you. It burns and you cry out, wanting to get away but it’s near impossible since she’s sitting on you.

“Please, Faith-stop it!”

“You always were looking for trouble! And look who’s paying the price. Should have left you to die!”

She swipes fast, claw severing a vein in your throat. Blood spurts out, covering your sister’s face with a crimson red but she doesn’t even notice as she continues hacking away at your body.

You cough, choking on the metallic fluid. Vision growing dimmer, you attempt to lift your arms to stifle the gaping wound, but your arms are made of lead, heavy muscles weighing you down. Her name is on your lips, a quiet plea for mercy, and yet your blood drowns out the sound, leaving only a rasping wheeze in its place.

                                                                 ~*~

“You look like shit.” The voice comments in the quiet room and you lift your head, a yawn sliding its way up your throat.

“What was that?” you ask, setting the vase back on its pedestal.

“I said, you look like shit. Seriously, what were you doing last night wrestling another Brutedaen or something?” Lhaine asks.

Rolling your eyes, you say nothing and merely go about the dining room to finish cleaning.

After being murdered by your sister, you were woken by the sound of Miss’s whistle, high pitch ringing in your ear. Despite being very alive, it was still difficult for you to drag air into your lungs. You had been disoriented and wondered if you had actually stopped breathing at some point.

Lhaine pauses in sweeping the floor and looks at you. “Tell me your silence isn’t an affirmation.”

You shake your head. “It’s not. Sorry, I’m just really tired.” Dusting the pedestal, you continue working in a mindless haze, body moving robotically as you go through your tasks.

She hums, “I don’t blame you. Especially with that long list you’ve got there.”

After your little escapade, your boss stayed true to her word and made sure you would make up for running away. Chores covered the entire sheet of paper you were given each morning and you worked into the night, dragging your aching limbs into bed before repeating the process once more.

You pull out the slip of paper and stare at each line. Not even half of the tasks were done and it was almost midday. At this rate, you would be finishing late tonight. Sighing, you shove the paper back into your pocket and pick up the duster before heading to the next pedestal on the adjacent wall.

“Well, it’s almost lunchtime. We can finish up here and while I set up you can go do another task upstairs.” Lhaine tells you and you nod.

Going up the staircase, you head to the library with your usual bucket and mop. Pushing the heavy door open, you quietly slip inside and let the wood shut behind you. It thuds, alerting your presence to any occupants in the room. Though you don’t see anyone, you know that Ink was somewhere, probably waiting to startle you again. Usually it was an accident when he popped up beside you, since he needed to shelve the books, but there were a few times you felt a tug on your hair or your skin being pinched. Even if you were on guard, by the time you spun around the kid would be gone.

Despite the annoying pranks he pulled, it actually did help in keeping you awake rather than giving into sleep’s temptation. In fact, you felt that it was almost an unspoken game between the two of you. Not that he knew. No, he was banking on the fact that you would become irritated after one too many pokes and prods.

While you went around scrubbing the cobble floor, you listen for the little pops that sound around the area. If there was one good thing to take away from this game you played, it was the fact that you were focused on something other than your situation or the nightmares you dealt with on a daily basis.

Keeping the mop sliding, there’s a short pop just as you feel a light tug on your dress. By the time the sensation clicks in your tired brain to spin around, the boy is already gone. This occurs multiple times as you work your way around the room and you eventually reach the end of your task when you carry the bucket to the last section of the library.

Glaring at the painting, you set the metal pail down and dip the brush into the water before pulling it out as you mop. The shadows hadn’t moved, not since the secret passage was revealed to you and you were glad, knowing you would probably do something stupid and irrational like hit the damn canvas if the shadow figures so much as made a peep.

Something touches your elbow. Instincts guide you to spin around, mop at the forefront. It makes contact and you hear an audible male grunt which rewards you with a hint of satisfaction. One that quickly transforms into dismay when you see the person standing before you.

V rights himself, hand remaining on the stick of the mop, a look of shock on his face though there’s a hint of amusement lingering within his dark irises. “Why is it that you are constantly flinging water at me? I can assure you I have already bathed, but if I am not being thorough enough then you are free to assist me if necessary.” His lips quirk up at his offer.

Despite his calm response, you can only remain in a state of embarrassment as you bow in apology. “Forgive me, Your Highness. That was thoughtless of me.”

He shrugs. “At least you were smart to go on the offensive. Swing it any harder and you could make use of a wet rag on a stick.” You were still bent over and his hand reaches forward to cup your chin, lifting your head as he does. “Come now, I’m sure Ink is relieved that he dodged such an attack.”

There’s a scoff and you both turn to find the boy organizing books on a cart. Hardback texts thudding against the metal as he moves with precision. “If I knew she was a threat, possibly. Knowing her, she would have missed anyway.”

“Perhaps. Even so, it is never wise to underestimate your opponents. Regardless if you know them or not.” The prince advises and Ink stops what he is doing to look at the older male. His white eyes stare up at him, seeming to process and contemplate the information before he quietly nods in understanding. A second later and he vanishes only to reappear across the room next to a stack of books.

V returns his attention to you. “Before I forget, I have something to show you.” Putting an arm behind your waist, he leads you over to one of the sofas and you both sit down. “I will be leaving on a trip with my father tomorrow. We have some matters to take care of, nothing complex, but it will be a few days until we return. Now, I know Miss will be keeping you occupied with chores and since I will not be here to entertain you with my presence,” his grin becomes deeper when you lightly snort, “I have decided to grant you access to the library should you wish to use it.”

You blink once. “I’m sorry?” Was this another test? To see if you would attempt another escape or was it some cruel joke, a further reminder of your failed actions?

“You seemed to express an earlier interest in learning about the creatures of my world. If you are still curious or merely bored and biding time, you can come to the library. Ink will help you find anything you seek. The only thing I ask is for you to avoid the second floor above us.”

Glancing at the ladder, you eye the green mist wafting around the upper level. V notices your teeth biting into your lip and he is quick to diffuse your anxieties. “The mist won’t harm you as long as you don’t go upstairs. Only a few creatures can enter it and not become ill.”

Your brows pinch together and you glance over at Ink who was writing something down with his finger, dark ink being scribbled onto a leather bound book.

“Ink is an exception,” V explains. “his form allows him to surpass the mist. Not even me or my family can venture upstairs without a charm.”

“Oh, I see.” Stay away from the second landing, that was something you could handle. “Will I be able to read the books?”

The prince nods, “Of course. All the books on the ground level can be read by anyone. Only the ancient texts are written in the traditional demonic language. Those are the ones you must be cautious of.” V grabs a book lying on the table and hands it to you.

The black book was huge, triple the size of an encyclopedia and you struggle to maintain your grip on it, not wanting to drop this on either of your feet. Setting it in your lap, you read the red inscription on the front cover.

Monster Manual.

Seriously? You voice your disbelief and the blond stares at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Monster Manual?” You open the book and skim through the pages, pictures of all sorts of creatures flying by as you do so. “It doesn’t sound…intimidating like a book from Hell would be.”

“Not everything is supposed to be, little thing. Were you expecting something more sinister such as Bloodthirsty Creatures of Hellor Devilish Beings: Inside and Out?” His grin is back and he leans against the cushions while you can only lower your head.

“Maybe. It just seems so basic,” you admit.

He shrugs. “Not all things have to be complicated. Regardless, this book lists every creature ever been found and documents everything that is known about them.”

“So I can actually learn how to fight things should I run into one.”

V laughs, “Exactly! Though I recommend beginning with the lower-tier monsters first.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you snort. Not that you were going to go looking for monsters anytime soon. “Thank you though for the book. I’ll start reading it when I get a chance.” You stand and he nods.

“My pleasure.”

                                                                 ~*~

Saltwater. That’s the first thing you notice. The potent smell tugs on your consciousness, urging you to open your eyes. When your eyelids peel apart, you see a ledge not too far away, a figure standing at the edge.

Pushing yourself up, you unsteadily rise to your feet and walk towards the person. Their clothes were torn, ripped fabric exposing bloody flesh, and as you get closer the salt mixes with copper, the metallic scent stinging your nostrils. Scraggly hair hangs limply in a tangled disarray, but even with the person’s back to you, you automatically recognize her.

As you get closer, your sister falls forward, body stiff as a board before it vanishes over the precipice. You scream her name and run towards the cliff, skidding to a stop right at the edge. Looking down, you are greeted with calm red water. The sea of blood makes no movement; you couldn’t even see a ripple break across the surface. Your sister’s body was nowhere to be found, there was no indication from the still liquid that she even landed.

Something grabs you from behind and you gasp, automatically pushing backwards to keep from falling down. Cold arms yank you around and you soon meet bloodshot eyes. Your sister snarls, lips curled in anger and you feel a hot wave of putrid breath hit your face. The stench reeks of spoiled flesh, it burns as the smell travels up your sinuses and down your throat. Her hand is tight around your throat, nails pinching your skin.

“Do you know what is in the Sea of Sins, sister?” She hisses at you, lecherous grin prominent on her face. Her head jerks to the side, neck twitching as she waits for you to answer.

“B-blood?” you whisper, afraid to raise your voice.

She drops her head forward, nose nearly touching your own as she draws a wicked smile. “On the surface, yes. But do you know what is beneath it? What floats below the shallows?”

You’re barely able to shake your head, the feeling of her sharp nails digging into your soft flesh. One twitch of her thumb and your carotid artery would be severed instantly. She leers at your timid answer.

“Why, the souls of sinners, my sweet sister. It’s been awhile since they’ve fed, won’t you sate their hunger?” she croons, keeping a hold of your neck and hand, dipping you backwards so you can lean over the edge. A sharp sting slices into your palm and your sister lifts your hand up so she can admire the thin cut. “Look, we match,” she says, letting go and holding her own palm up to you. The skin is unmarred, no cut in sight and you can only stare in confusion.

Yanking your limb, she stretches it out and hold it over the water. The blood slides from the wound and a drop falls into the crimson sea below. Once the liquids make contact with each other, you watch the pool ripple as an endless mass of faceless bodies break the surface. Hundreds of arms claw the air; wide mouths open in anticipation as they taste your life force.

Your sister snatches a handful of your hair, jerking you towards her so she can stare into your eyes, diluted and bloody pupils gazing into your wide irises. “Shame that I can’t end your life myself.”

Whimpering, you tremor as she bends you back more, your head nearly upside down. “Please, Faith, don’t do this.” Your voice wavers, tears glistening in your eyes and she grins, lips spreading to reveal jagged teeth.  

She leans in close to whisper in your, “Go meet those who lurk in the depths of your grave. I hear the souls love fresh meat.”

And then she lets go.

You don’t even get a chance to react before you’re falling through the air. The wind rushes up, your sister getting farther away from you while gravity drags you down. Your body hits the water and it’s hot, the liquid heating you instantly. Nothing could have prepared you for the multiple hands grabbing onto you, slick fingers snatching whatever part of you they can.

They pull you down, deeper and deeper into the abyss. Your lungs flood with the copper fluid, scalding your nostrils and blocking your vision. Once their claws are fully embedded, they rip into your skin, tearing chunks of muscles and ligaments. You can’t scream, opening your mouth only invites the hot, metallic liquid into your system and you can only hope that you’ll drown quickly, preventing you from feeling any more pain.

Unfortunately, your conscious refuses to fade away, leaving you trapped underwater as your battered body loses its flesh until you are cleaned to the bone.

                                                                 ~*~

Clunk.

The sound makes you jump, breaking your memory of the nightmare and you turn to see Chef hacking a piece of meat into pieces, raising her cleaver high before bringing it down which causes blood to spatter across the counter. You shudder, feeling the metallic taste burn your tongue like the water from your dream.

Sighing to yourself, you go back to munching on your soggy lettuce. With lunch currently underway, you were relieved that the day was going relatively quickly, you didn’t think you could handle much more in your tired state. Doing your daily tasks were proving to be difficult with each passing day as you continued to lose sleep.

“Just finish your last few chores, eat, and go to bed.” Lhaine advises, watching you through her dark curtain of hair.

You look at her and she stares back, the two of you regarding one another before you groan, rubbing your hand across your face.

“I don’t know if I want to anymore,” you admit, unable to suppress the yawn that pushes its way out your mouth.

“Still having nightmares?”

“Mmhm.” Your head lowers down until it meets the stone table and you don’t even care that the rock digs into your forehead.

“And you say they’re about your sister?”

You hum a tired yes and she nods to herself.

“Well, the day is almost over,” she says and her hand slaps you on the back in sympathy though the force jars you somewhat.

“If you have time to rest, then surely you have time to work.”

If it wasn’t the fact that your boss was terrifying and could do whatever she pleased as punishment, then you would have stayed with your head against the table. Though you weren’t sure if being tortured was concerning considering how you were dealing with vivid dreams of you dying in horrendous ways.

And so you are left with no choice other than to drag your heavy head up to meet the stern eyes of your boss who had her arms crossed in distaste. Her elegant green and black dress was perfectly straight, no creases in sight, and you knew her typical high heels were underneath the veil of her skirt.

“Those who are finished with lunch should move on to their next task.” She lifts a hand to smoothen the tight bun holding her silver hair up though not a strand was out of place.

Standing up, you gather your half-eaten food and bow to her before disposing of it. Miss watches as you check your note for the rest of your chores, sharp eyes following you as get the necessary equipment. Lhaine mutters a low good luck to you and you nod, heading down the hall soon after.

To say that you were a mess was an understatement. No matter how hard you tried to remain focused, your thoughts would drift and you would find yourself dozing off or spending too much time on the same task. In the span of six hours, you had scrubbed the same section of the wall for over 15 minutes, accidentally repeating your mistake in the ballroom and throne area as well, it was a miracle you managed to finish the things you needed to do today.

Serving dinner was the last thing you had to do and then you could be free to head to your room and fall victim to the sleep depriving nightmares. At this point, you couldn’t tell which option was worse.

Picking up the ceramic plates, you feel your arms ache. Even though they weren’t heavy, your body was trying to rebel against you, eyes threatening to follow suit as well and you grit your teeth to swallow the yawn. You let Dust lead, walking to the family and setting the fresh meat along with the ripe vegetables down on the table.

The two males’ had different clothing compared to their usual attire. While the Queen was wearing a satin purple gown, splashes of black decorating the long sleeves and lower skirts, her husband and son were both wearing all black outfits, no other color in sight. V must be leaving on the trip with his father later tonight. Honestly, the prince’s conversation with you felt like it happened ages ago and not within the span of 24 hours.

Neither you nor Dust speak, merely completing your task before returning to the kitchen so the family can eat in peace. When you are collecting the dishes, you can’t help but glance at the prince as you reach for his plate. The blond smiles at you and you do your best to send a small one back.

“Thank you, little thing. Tell Chef her cooking is superb as usual but I will not need dessert tonight.”

You bow. “Of course, Your Highness.”

“Leaving so soon?” The Queen asks, her head cocking to the side.

After his place is clean, the prince stands up and pushes his chair in, the wooden legs lightly scraping the cobble.

“I’m afraid so, Mother. I must finish packing before Father and I leave tonight.” He steps towards her and kisses her cheek in apology. She reaches a hand up to cup his cheek, face void of any expression.

“Good man,” the King grunts. “Be sure you have everything; we will be leaving immediately after dinner has concluded.”

V bows to him just as you go into the kitchen and by the time you come back he is already gone. Holding the slice of chocolate cake and cup of ice cream in both hands, you walk to the King, preparing to set the dessert in front of him. Nearing the table, your slipper catches on the uneven floor and you’re too slow to react.

Your hands don’t even keep a tight grip on the items and the small plate flips over, smearing cake and frosting onto the table cloth while the vanilla ice cream careens across before landing on the Queen’s lap. She swipes the cold creamery off where the cup breaks on the hard floor, shattering into pieces. White ice cream is now coated on the front of her dark mauve dress, a stain already forming as it melts into the fabric. Her face is unreadable, pressed lips twitching and eyebrows raised as she glares at her ruined gown. You can’t tell if she’s stunned, furious, or a dangerous combination of both. Every person in the vicinity is immobile and you catch Dust’s petrified gaze, the little girl looking like she’s about to burst into tears any second now. You take a step forward to clean the Queen’s outfit, but are stopped by the King who shoves the table away from him.

“You insolent worm!” The man bellows, grabbing you roughly and slamming you down onto the hard surface. One giant hand is pinning your wrist while the other wraps completely around your throat, choking off your air supply. The lack of oxygen has your body going into a panic and you involuntarily struggle, but the male pushes you down harder to further restrain you. “You will suffer for your incompetence; the torturer will make sure of that!”

His solid red and black eyes pierce into you and you’re afraid the demon King was seconds away from murdering you without a second thought.

You don’t stand a chance in fighting back, your fatigued body is no match for his supernatural strength but your muscles still resist and push against his weight. Spots dabble across your vision, the darkness spreading rapidly the longer you go without air.

“Dearest, release the human.” The Queen says, not even looking in your direction. “There is no need for violence.” She pinches a napkin between her fingers and rubs it on her dress to wipe off the stain though the damage has already been done.

“She has spoiled our meal.” The King growls, his grip remaining firm on your body but thankfully the pressure is lifted somewhat and you inhale the sliver of air as best as you can.

“I will see to it at that the proper punishment is enforced. Now please, dearest, let her go. You must prepare for your journey.” She snaps her fingers twice and the red tablecloth shakes as Dust crawls out from underneath it, immediately standing next to the Queen though her figure is quaking in fear.

The man before you yanks you close to him, keeping his strong grip tight around your neck so that precious oxygen remains scarce. “See to it that you fix your mistakes, for she has shown you great mercy, servant.” His words hiss through gritted teeth.

You can’t respond, only able to stare into the pool of blood and shadows that serve as his eye colors. He tosses you to the ground and you hit the cobble hard, sore body aching. Greedily, you suck in air, relieved when the darkness lifts as you lie on the floor, afraid to even blink for fear of retaliation. The King’s metallic boots stomp away from you and you hear the door swing open and then slam shut behind him.

Bringing yourself to your knees, you see the Queen stroke the young girl’s hair while holding her close, head resting against her breast as the woman stares blankly ahead. Crawling forward, you carefully approach the two and bow deeply, head pressed down on the stone floor.

Tears drip from your eyes as you restrain your cries to better apologize to the one that holds your fate. “Your Majesty, I’m so sorry for my mistake, it won’t happen again. Please, I can clean your dress and bring it to you tonight.” You can’t hold back the sob any longer and it squeaks out of you, your pleas transformed into pathetic garbles of weeping.

“Enough.” The Queen commands you. “Get to your feet, it is pathetic for one to beg.” Her voice is stern and you quickly push yourself to a stand, not even caring how much of a mess you looked. Finally, she turns to look at you directly. “Now, clean this mess along with yourself. Once that is done come to my suite and I will give you the dress. Do you understand?”

Mutely you nod and wipe your hand across your face in an attempt to dry it. You sniffle, bowing to her and whisper a word of confirmation before sliding the chocolate cake onto the plate and running to the sanctity of the kitchen.

Lhaine is there waiting at the door when you come in and she is quick to bring the dustpan and broom while you get rid of the wasted dessert. “What happened to you out there?” She asks, waiting for you to wipe your hands before passing the cleaning supplies to you.

“I tripped. Lhaine,” you look at the short figure and wish you could meet her eyes through the curtain of dark hair, “is she going to kill me?”

She sighs, “No. I don’t know what punishment she will decide for you but it won’t result in death. You didn’t commit treason or any higher offense.”

You nod and the door opens, Dust coming inside and she seems less frightened though still unsettled as her gaze darts around the room. While you knew you needed to finish picking up your mess, you couldn’t not soothe the already skittish girl and so you crouch down in front of her.

“Don’t be scared, Dust. I’m the one that messed up. You did nothing wrong, okay?” She is barely able to meet your eyes, small orbs darting around the entire room until they focus on you. It takes her a second to utter a soft yes but you’re glad that she understands at least.

Standing up, you go out into the dining room and the Queen is nowhere in sight, much to your relief. Once the room is back to its original state, you return to throw away the shattered cup. Lhaine hands you a wet rag so you can wipe your face and you drag it across your wet skin, cleaning the tears and small bits of snot that had dripped out.

Hiccupping once, you stifle your quiet cries in the cloth and hear your friend sigh. “Look, you’re gonna be fine, Y/N. Just calm down, stop crying, and get it over with.”

“No, I’m not. Even if she doesn’t kill me who’s to say that I’ll make it out alive in one piece.”

Her hand touches your arm briefly and then she’s tugging the rag off your face. “You don’t,” she grips your chin softly and forces you to look at her through her long, ebony hair. “I’m being honest with you. I don’t know what she’ll do or say but the longer you keep her waiting, the higher chance you’ll have of angering her.” Lhaine wipes the fresh tears your eyes produce.

“Gather your wits and be off, girl.” Chef advises, still in the process of cleaning the pots and pans, not bothering to look at you.

Lhaine nods in agreement. “Exactly. You’ll be fine.” Her hand rests on your shoulder, squeezing once before letting go.

Now you have no choice but to go visit the Queen in her private chambers. Dread fills your entire being as you begin the accent up the stairs, knees wobbling with each step you take. Arriving at the door much too soon, you knock three times and hear a short “enter” from within the wood.

You open the door and have to stop your jaw from dropping open.  While the prince’s room held a simplistic elegance, his parents’ room was blatantly regal. A crystalline chandelier hung from the ceiling, dark violet candles fixed on top and lighting the space with a gentle glow. The king sized bed took up almost one side of the room, silver curtains standing behind the black headboard where they stretched out above, onyx metal poles holding up the canopy. A purple couch and matching lounge chair sat above a black rug, the two pieces of furniture angled towards a large bay window. Twin glass doors led out to a balcony triple the size of the prince’s and you could see various pots of plants decorating the area.

“Come here.” The command snaps you out of your gawking and you carefully walk towards the older woman. Your breathing comes evenly, but you are keenly aware of the sweat that accumulates on your palms with each step you take.

The Queen sat at her vanity, dark mahogany desk covered with various bottles and vials, the dark hues of reds, greens, and blues floating inside.  A black box with an intricate design was at the corner of it, strange ingredients grouped together in their own compartments.  She had a mortar and pestle in her lap, the grinder crushing some weird moss into the dry powder. As she mixed the ingredients, the moss lost its color until the mass was soon a dull grey. Setting the pestle on the tabletop, she points to a kettle on the other end.

“Bring that pot to me,” she says, maintaining her attention to the concoction before her.

Walking behind her, you grab the stout kettle by the handle, your other hand automatically cupping underneath it. Flinching back, you yelp at the scalding sensation in your nerves.  

“It’s hot,” the Queen adds nonchalantly, rummaging through an open cabinet at the foot of the vanity.  

Hovering your palm under its base, you return to her side and she sits up straight, short spoon in hand.

“Now, gently pour the water into here,” she picks up a teacup and proceeds to hold it out to you.

Your movements are slow but jerky as you tip the kettle and steaming water splashes out, narrowly missing her hand as a result. You whisper an apology though she says nothing, her hawkish eyes waiting for you to continue. Again, you repeat the process and the water falls in with a smaller splash. When it’s full, she puts it down and uses the spoon to scoop out some of the powder where she then stirs it in the water. It disappears as it blends with the hot liquid and she delicately brings it to her lips to take a sip.

Lowering the cup, she keeps the last bit of water in her mouth, swishing it lightly before swallowing. “You’ve been here for some time now. And yet,” she places the cup down, “your incompetence says otherwise.”

You lower your head. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I haven’t been sleeping well these past few days.” As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you felt that you should at least give some form of explanation.

The Queen doesn’t seem to pay you any attention, merely staring at her vanity to study her reflection. She runs a hand through her hair, nails stroking her locks before she reaches for her drink to take another sip. “Exhaustion tends to do that to the body. I understand your position.”

The older woman must have sensed your questioning look from beside her as a small smile creeps onto her face. “After my Prince was born he was still quite reliant on me even though we were no longer one blood and flesh. Though it didn’t seem so considering how the little thing was constantly attached to me. Despite the moon still lingering in the night, I took care of him whenever he so much as whimpered, regardless if sleep was calling to me. When he needed to drink from my breast or when I had to constantly hold him while his wings grew from his back, do you think my child ever fell from my arms?”

“No, Your Highness.”

She shakes her head. “No, because it was my duty as his mother to care for him.” Putting her empty cup back down, she gestures to it. “Refill it until it is half full, but do it properly this time. Hold the neck of the kettle when you pour as if you are holding a child.”

Doing as you are told, you try to imagine what she’s saying while also going slowly. Tremors shake within your hands at the image of cupping a baby and the thought makes you more nervous. Your fingers close around the spout and she raises a hand. “Gently. Do not strangle it. Cup the neck, but without gripping tightly.”

You tilt the kettle forward and let it rest against your palm while the liquid softly pours out. It doesn’t splash this time, the stream of water delicately flooding the cup as steam rises up in a white misty swirl. The cup is nearly masked by the vapor but when it looks to be about halfway you bring the pot upright.

Adding another spoonful of the strange powder, the Queen mixes it in and drinks it. “Much better,” is her response though her face remains stoic as she stares forward. “As a servant, you must ensure that you are also doing your tasks properly. Treat important objects as if they were infants and less mistakes will be made.” She grabs an empty vial and deposits the leftover substance inside before capping it shut.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll keep your advice in mind.” Walking around to the other side of her vanity, you set the teapot down and then a small navy blue velvet bag is being presented to you.

Your hand reaches for it, but you stop short, a bit weary to grab it. She sighs harshly and tosses it at you where you fumble in an attempt to catch the mini satchel. “It is a remedy not a daemon,” she scoffs in disgust. “Mix one spoonful of that powder into a glass of water and drink it before you slumber. It will assist you when you sleep.”

Almost speechless at her kind gesture, you pocket the blue bag in your uniform, bowing deeply. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’m very grateful for the gift.”

She nods. “My dress is over there. Clean it and then bring it to me tomorrow.” The older woman orders, pointing a disregarding finger over to the chaise lounge near the window. You see her purple gown lying in a heap on the sofa and you go to retrieve it. “That will be all,” you hear her say.

Hesitating, you pause with the fabric in your arms as you stare at her back unsurely. She had returned to rummaging through the cabinets of her vanity. “Your Majesty,” her movements cease as you approach her and when you are standing beside her a gust of wind leaves your lungs, “may I ask what my punishment will be?”

The Queen smirks at your timid question. “I will not be deciding your punishment; Miss will be the one to do so.”

Your blood freezes in your veins while your stomach drops at the news. Your boss was going to be the one deciding your fate. You weren’t sure if the Queen was showing you mercy or simply enforcing your punishment by having someone worse than her choose how you were meant to pay. From the delightful gleam in her dark brown irises followed by a few quick blinks, you had a feeling that it was the latter.

It was hard to smile and you could only hope it was convincing enough as you bend your head down. “I understand, Your Majesty.”

“Good, then if you have no more inquiries you may see yourself out.”

You have to keep yourself from running as you walk across the vast room, wanting nothing more than to get back to your room. Opening the door, you shut it behind you and sprint for the stairs only to nearly plow into someone.

V grabs your elbows to steady you, wide eyes soon crinkling as he notices your restless state. “Little thing, there you are. I was just on my way to come find you.”

“Oh, were you looking for me?” you ask, tugging on the fabric of the dress you held as you contemplate why he needed you when he was leaving with his father soon.

He nods, “Yes actually, I wanted to speak with you for a moment before I left,” the blond replies, grasping your wrist as he tugs you along. V brings you to his room and releases you while the door shuts firmly from behind. His back is to you and you watch him stand quietly before speaking.

“I heard what my father did to you,” he says after a moment. His tone is tense, jaw tight as he regards you. “I apologize on his behalf. He’s not a very tolerant man.” The prince sighs and runs a hand through his hair, ruffling golden locks in the process. “Are you alright?” he asks, voice soft, the tension lifting somewhat.

You nod carefully. “I’m fine, just a bit shaken up.” Your admittance is accentuated by the way your fingers nervously fiddle with the sleeve of the Queen’s gown, nails lightly tugging at the hem.

His teeth dig into his lower lip, eyes narrowing at your fidgeting and he takes a step closer. V reaches for your hand, gingerly bringing it forward so he can rotate your wrist. His thumb hovers over the discolored skin before he tenderly touches it.

Your slight wince doesn’t go unnoticed as he hears your short intake of breath, his eyes lifting up to watch you though your gaze is focused on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” you hear him whisper. Abruptly, he releases you and goes to his closet. Opening a wooden door, you watch as he sifts through the contents, hangars sliding around and clothes being shoved aside while he looks for something.

“It’s okay. I should have been more careful,” is your automatic reply. You want to move closer and see what he’s doing, but his brusque movements keep you in place.

Closing the armoire, he walks back to you with a purple ribbon entwined between his fingers. “Still, my father shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

You can only shrug helplessly while he picks up your arm and inspects the bruise again. The prince then proceeds to tie the violet strip, wrapping it until there’s a mini bow decorating the inside of your wrist.

“This way your wound will be covered,” V explains, seeing your confused stare.

You look down at the accessory, it was just a thin piece of plastic neatly fastened on your arm and yet you’re oddly touched. “Thank you,” you reply, still admiring the purple bracelet.

V shrugs, “It’s the least I can do. Do me a favor though and keep it tied, I don’t want you to accidentally misplace it.” He slips a finger under the ribbon and lightly tugs it to make sure it isn’t too tight. “Water won’t destroy it so you won’t have to worry when you’re bathing or cleaning,” he informs you.

“Oh okay. Are you leaving soon?” you ask when he proceeds to walk to his desk.

“Yes, actually. We’ll be going in the next half hour.”

The prince gathers some documents, searching through the pile of paper until he finds a sheet with blue script on the front and back. He folds it in half and tucks the document into a dark satchel. Taking the bag with him, he stands in front of you while you stare up at him.

“Have fun on your trip, I guess,” you say. What did demon princes do when they go on a trip with their tempered fathers? Did they bond over how many creatures they killed or simply scavenge random plains for human remains? Surely they didn’t just sit around and fish for souls before having roasted imp by the campfire.

“Thank you, I will do my best to kill the three-headed dragon in the underground caves. I’ll even bring back all three heads as a trophy for you. Would you like the scales peeled or unpeeled?” V asks, impassive expression on his face as he waits for you to answer though you can only stare with a look of horror, words stuck in your throat at his question. You hear him chuckle before he touches your head softly. “I’m kidding, little thing. My father and I are just having a meeting with the Senate.”

“Oh,” is your sigh of relief. “That sounds…boring. Why do that when you could be out monster hunting instead?” your short laugh was high-pitched, borderline hysterical at the idea of encouraging the prince to go on a killing expedition rather than attending important meetings.

V rolls his eyes, turning you around and putting his arm behind you, leading you to the door as you both exit his bedroom. “Exactly. That’s why we sometimes go hunting in the Crooked Forest, it helps us let off some steam and aggravation from time to time.”

They should schedule a day soon, if the King’s violent actions at dinner were any indication. Reaching the beginning of the staircase, the blond stops, giving your frame a light squeeze before stepping away.

“I need to say goodbye to my mother before we leave. Please do your best to stay out of trouble for the next day or so, little thing. I’d rather you be free from injuries when I come home. Understand?” he asks, arms crossed as he regards you, voice void of any humor.

You nod seriously, “I’ll do my best not to piss off any demons while you’re gone, Your Highness.”

Your resolute expression causes a snort to escape him and he quickly covers his mouth a hand, composing himself a second later. “Good, then you may leave.”

A hint of smile is playing at the corner of his mouth and you return it with your own. Already your mood was being lifted after the terrible dinner, the prince’s lighthearted attitude easing your anxious mind.

Going down the steps, you hear a door open and close behind you as he enters the Queen’s chambers. As you make your descent, you see the King discussing something with his men though you can’t hear exactly what he is saying. The man was in his blue and black armor, the helmet already on his head.

Reaching the bottom, you realize that you have to go directly passed them to get to the servants’ quarters. Your gait falters, footsteps slowing as you try to sneak around them without disturbing the conversation. One of the guards asks a question and the King responds right when you are moving behind the mass of bodies.

You make the mistake of looking up as you do and find the man glaring directly at you. His black and red eyes render you frozen, the stone cold gaze appears dead, empty of any positive emotions. That is, until the glowing orbs shift and zero in on the purple ribbon fastened around your wrist. While you can’t see his face beneath the helmet, you could feel the wrath radiating from him. Even the other soldiers shift when they notice the viable energy encircling them though their thoughts are silent.

Not wanting to stay a moment longer, you break your terrified stare from his and scamper to the servants’ quarters. You don’t see any of the other servants as you rush to collect your bathing supplies and run to the showers so you can wash yourself. While you scrub yourself clean, the violet tie remains in place just as V said it would.

Sitting on your bed, after having changed into your nightgown and cleaned the Queen’s dress, you stare at the glass of water and the powder sack beside it. Your hand grabs the spoon on the nightstand, dipping it into the bag as you scoop some of the grey substance out before dumping it into the cup. Even though you have no idea what this concoction will do to you, you find yourself stirring the dust-like ingredient and a burst of white floods the drink before blending with the water. The once clear liquid is now oddly muddled and you cautiously grab the cup, holding it to your nose to sniff it but you smell nothing.

As much as you’d rather not drink it, you were hopeful in the sense that maybe this will rid you of the nightmares. With that thought in mind, you tilt your head back and gulp down the water. Your face scrunches at the bland taste, like crushed granite, but you force yourself to drink the whole thing until it is empty. Slamming the glass down you swallow a few times, trying to get rid of the weird aftertaste. You sit for a minute or two but don’t feel any different, no drowsiness or anything filling your body.

Closing the pouch, you attempt to stand but instantly become lightheaded and you fall back onto the bed. The wooziness remains as you tuck your legs beneath the covers and go to lie down, tendrils of sleep wrapping your brain before you are soon fast asleep.

Wind whistles in your ear and you wake up coughing, nose stinging from the smell of ash. Opening your eyes, you squint at the black dust flying around. A vast landscape of nothingness greets you, dark piles of ash littering the surrounding area.

Standing up, you see your hands are covered in the obsidian substance, powder covering your palms. You wipe your hands together though it doesn’t do much and as you survey the land you notice another dark pile that appears larger than the others.

It’s shaped differently, not a perfect triangular mountain compared to the rest and you begin walking towards the distended mass. As you get closer, instead of powder or dust, the pile consists of burnt remains.

Charred flesh wafts into your nostrils and you cough at the acrid scent it gives off. Most of the body parts are unidentifiable, but you can trace the outline of a leg, twisted hand, and a decomposed foot mixed in between the other mutilated limbs.

Suddenly, the pile starts moving and the top part of the mountain collapses, sending a bunch of torsos and heads rolling off. You back away as something digs its way out from underneath, coming out on the other side, opposite of where you were.

Taking a peek around, you see an arm emerging from the mass, nails digging into the brown dirt as it pulls itself out. It is followed by a head and then a torso before a pair of legs crawl out. The figure kicks out, hitting a limb loose and sending another section of body parts rolling.

Your sister, once free from the pile, stands up and you watch her look around not knowing you are behind her. A glint of silver is at her side and you catch sight of a knife clutched in her grasp.

Knowing what you were getting yourself into, you carefully walk towards her and take easy steps so she can’t hear your approach. You stop, keeping ten paces away, close enough for her to detect your presence but far enough to stay out of her reach in case she decided to lash out.

“Come back for more, sister?” she asks, jerking her head to the side so she can look at you with her peripherals.

“What is going, sis?” You take a step forward. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She abruptly spins around to face you directly, hair in a disarray while dried blood coats her skin. A menacing grin is on her face. “I’m here to kill you.”

The wind picks up at her declaration and you swallow harshly, wrapping your arms tight around yourself. “That doesn’t make sense. You’re not even real, this is just a nightmare.” It had to be. It was the only plausible explanation. A figment of imagination, that’s all.

The confident and giddy expression she holds dips, a flicker of fear brushing across her features. “Not yet.” Then the weariness vanishes and she’s smiling once more. “You won’t last forever, Y/N. It’s only a matter of time before you won’t wake up anymore.” She shrugs nonchalantly, “But until then, let’s play.”

Your sister lunges at you and you dive back, landing on your side harshly while the blade swings beside you. Skittering away, you kick out a leg and hit her hip, causing her to stumble and she trips over a mangled leg. When she falls, you scramble to your feet and dive on top of her, grabbing the arm clutching the knife as you try to pry it out of her fingers.

She’s still partially disoriented from your counterattack, but her grip remains strong and she attempts to slash at you. Both your hands are clutching her limb as tight as you can so she can’t stab you, yet you are unable to yank the knife away. Knowing you won’t be able to last much longer, you bend and sink your teeth into your sister’s skin.

Faith shrieks in pain as your blunt teeth meet soft flesh and she flails, but you don’t budge. Biting harder, the skin close to breaking, you finally feel her fingers loosen their hold. You snatch the knife away from her and stay on top which only agitates her more.

She retaliates by trying to bite and scratch you, her yellow tinted teeth clacking at the air between you which is followed by the swipe of her nails. Avoiding the sharp incisors and claws, you push the blade down and press into the skin of her neck though not enough to draw blood.

Your sister’s thrashing ceases as she stares up at you, her eyes wide in shock. To your own surprise, you watch as the corners of her lips tilt up, the female grinning wildly. “My, my. It seems little sister has found her courage.”

“Stop it.” You hoped your tone was stern enough, but your sister merely giggles in response and you dig the knife in a little deeper. That shuts her up.

“What’re you gonna do, kill me? Why don’t you just go ahead and end this once and for all, sis?” She rolls her head to the side and the movement causes the blade you are holding to cut into her skin.

A thin line of blood beads across her neck and on instinct you pull the knife back, not wanting to actually hurt her.

“What is wrong with you?” you shout at her.

She scoffs in answer. “The clues are right there inside your little head. Surely you’re not that stupid.”

“I don’t know what that means!”

Faith latches onto your wrist and yanks it closer to her, the knife almost stabbing her shoulder but you pull back in the last second. Grunting, the two of you engage in a tug-of-war, both fighting to gain control of the weapon.

You feel your sister release the tension in her muscles and then she drives the blade into your stomach. Crying out, your head drops down and you watch as bright red blood drips from your wound. You’re pushed onto your back, the blank sky floating above you before your sister’s smug face enters your line of vision.

She strokes your head lightly with your free hand while twisting the blade with the other, causing more blood to seep out. “Hmm, maybe you are that stupid,” she comments, tilting her head to the side and continuing to look down at you.

Using what little strength you have left, you force your arm up and grab the hand currently stabbing you. Letting go of the knife, she switches hands so she can seize your reaching hand. She brings the limb up to her face and stares at the purple ribbon on your wrist. You had forgotten about your new accessory.

Her head cocks curiously before her dark eyes light up in realization. “Shame. If only it protected you in this realm. Such a pity.” The mocking tone contradicts her words as she pretends to pout.

Releasing your arm, you watch it helplessly fall to the ground with no resistance whatsoever. Your ears begin ringing, the high-pitched sound increasing in pitch and soon overwhelming you before consciousness fades away.

A handful of seconds later, you are again woken by the ringing sound and upon opening your eyes, you recognize the noise as Miss’s whistle. Groaning, you sit up and feel a sharp twinge in your abdomen. You shove the covers down and pull your gown slightly, checking your torso but find no marks or blemishes.

Moving your legs to the edge of the bed, you slowly stand and don’t feel any pain. Weird, must have been remnants from the nightmare. You rush to get ready, changing into your uniform and grabbing the newly cleaned dress for the Queen, the material no longer stained with ice cream. When you go to receive your tasks from Miss, she has a long list of chores for you on the piece of paper. It is so long that you see her handwriting on both sides of the card. Your boss gives the list to you, one of her eyebrows quirk up when you reach across her desk, bracelet on full display, but she doesn’t comment on it.

“That is your punishment I have decided for you. Now give me the dress, I will inspect it and return it to the Queen myself,” she commands and you wordlessly pass the fabric to her, taking the note and skimming it over.

You have done most of these chores already except there was a new you haven’t done. Feed the prisoners.

“Where are-”

“Find the dungeon yourself,” is all she says. Her heels click on the floor as she exits her office and disappears down the halls.

You sigh, though you’re not surprised by her answer and you head to the kitchen where only Chef and Bren are occupying the kitchen. Neither pay any attention to your presence, both women busy with their own tasks. Chef was chopping some vegetables while Bren was putting away clean dishes in the cupboard. The blonde girl walks across the room to pick up a large platter on the counter but stops short when she notices you.

She opens her mouth to probably spout some snide remark until she glances down to your wrist. Her face twists into a snarl upon seeing the purple ribbon and a loud crack fills the room as the platter she holds shatters into pieces.

“Oi, clean that mess up, girl! That was a good tray,” the older woman grumbles from her position at the sink.

Bren doesn’t respond, scoffing in agitation before going to the closet to get a broom and dustpan for the mess. She sweeps up the shattered remains, dumps them in the trash, and leaves, glare remaining on her face even as she walks passed you.

“Chef, what do the…prisoners eat?” The word struggles to leave your lips, you didn’t want to believe that there were captives actually being held in the castle.

She gestures to a low cupboard on the other end and when you open it, you find unmarked metal cans filling the top and bottom shelves. Pulling one out, you see there’s a tab that opens the can and you tug on it, revealing a lump of dull white mass inside. Taking an experimental whiff, you can’t help but gag at the smell of rancid milk.

“You get used to the smell, girl,” Chef tells you. She was peeling a blood cabbage apart now and you set the nasty can on the table, not wanting to touch it any more than necessary.

“How many should I bring? And where do I go?” you ask, already grabbing another handful of the weird, canned gruel.

“About 10 or so. There’s not that many down there. You can use a bucket to carry everything down the steps. Just go through that hall and the steps will take you to the cells.” She explains all this without so much as a glance to the tiny opening on the far end of the kitchen.

Rummaging through the closet, you grab a hefty looking bucket and start stacking the cans inside. When you lift it, it’s heavy and you have to lean in one direction so you don’t fall over. Going down the steps is a bit difficult since the steps were big and with only a few dim lamps, it was hard to see where you were walking. You manage to reach the bottom without falling or dropping the cans, including the opened one in your other hand.

The dungeon had two guards at the foot of the staircase, both standing on either side of the wrought-iron metal gate. As you get closer, one opens the door for you and you go inside. A large mechanism with odd pipes filled with a red liquid took up half of the room while the other the jail cell sat on the other end. There was another door opposite of the entrance, the metallic shine dulled with the color of blood spatters.

You shudder as you go down the walkway and taking a peek inside the cells which reveal 10 bodies scattered in various positions across the space. Approaching the bars carefully, you near the body who was curled up against them and see it’s a man.

His tanned skin was on full display since he wore nothing but a pair of pants, leaving his torso and feet bare. He seemed to be sleeping, his eyes closed as he laid his head against the stone wall.

You’re about to quietly rouse him, but you don’t get a chance to utter a single syllable before something snatches the open can of gruel from your hand. Yelping, you jump back as the prisoner skitters back to his corner and gulps down the milky substance, the pearly sop dripping down his chin as he drinks.

“Desperate fellow that one.” The sudden voice startles you and you find the man next to the bars awake, bright yellow irises peering from underneath his black bangs.  “6 has always been greedy.”

His remark catches you off guard when he refers to the prisoner’s name with a number. He moves his head and the tendrils of his hair shift, revealing the number 14 branded on his forehead. Looking at the others, you find that they all had a number branded somewhere on their body.

Some of the other captives stir at the sight of their companion eating and almost all of them scramble towards you, arms stretching through the gaps in the iron as they frantically reach for the contents in the bucket. You are quick to pass them out, each person snatching a can and then returning to their former positions.

“Do you not have names?” you ask the man who hasn’t moved. You hold a can of food out to him and casually takes it, but then he sets it beside him on the ground.

“No, we don’t. Prisoners aren’t supposed to remember their names.” The man gets to his knees, hands latching onto the metal bars. “I remember my name. I didn’t forget it,” he smirks.

He beckons you closer and you crouch down beside him, but keep some distance between you two.

“Would you like to know my name? My true name?”

You furrow your brows at his question. “I thought demons weren’t supposed to tell people their names unless they have absolute trust in a person,” you respond.

His hand slowly reaches for you, fingers coming into contact with your cheek. “You’re right,” his hand glides down to your neck, cupping it softly before yanking you forward. The sharp tug has you almost running face first into the bars and his breath hisses in your ear. “but my name has no control over me. I cannot be summoned.”

You’re panting echoes around the space and you wonder if you will have time to scream for the guards before this demon kills you.

His glowing eyes peer at you through the bars, “So I’ll ask again. Would you like to know my name?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles lowly. “Good answer.” His lips graze the side of your ear as he whispers softly. “Hakyeon. That is my name.”

“It’s a lovely name,” you whisper faintly. Your hands touch, fingers slowly prying his away from your neck. While the grip loosens, his hands remain firm against the sides of your throat.

Hakyeon grins happily. “Why thank you! And what is yours?”

“Young lady!” The call has you breaking free from his hold as you scramble to your feet.

The demon pouts, “pity,” muttering under his breath about rude interruption.

Miss stood at the entrance, arms crossed and lips pressed thin as she regards the two of you.

“Speaking with prisoners is prohibited. Return to your tasks at once.” Her voice is stern and you are quick to snatch the bucket from the ground, making a beeline for the door.

The demon in the cell waves farewell at your retreating figure. “Come back and play soon!”

— — — 

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