When I opened my eyes, I knew touching the leaf had been a very idiotic thing for me to do. I knew this because I was no longer in Crow's End. I wasn't even in England.

Egoism demanded I not panic, though the temptation to do so was dire as I spun where I stood, taking in the view of the grassy valley. A summer breeze crossed my face and caught my loose hair in its playful fingers. The sun hung just above the horizon, coating the sky in every conceivable shade of orange and yellow. Crimson highlights hovered upon the border of a monolithic forest where the wide trees were gilded with golden leaves.

Where is this? I silently asked as I held my arms out before myself. Though I felt solid, my limbs were somewhat transparent and ghostly. Is this another dream?

The long grass stalks rustled. I looked up and realized I was not alone. 

They stood on the crest of the knoll, gazing off into the distance toward something I could not see. All seven wore strange articles of clothing, such as knee-high boots and black breeches with wide, knotted sashes slung about their narrows waists. Their shirts were double-breasted and streamlined, the sleeves tight on their wrists and chests. Thin chains of gold were woven through their fingers and connected to bands on their forearms.

I was next to Peroth, of all people. The Sin's keen eyes were the same, but he appeared younger, his hair a lighter brown. His features were also thinner and more fine-boned, his ears tapered into fine, elven points.

He turned, lips quirking with a private thought. "What do you think?"

Startled, I opened my mouth to respond—but Peroth wasn't speaking to me. I did not think the man could see me. The Sin at my back, the one I had never laid eyes on before, sighed and responded. 

"We've little choice in the matter," he said, squinting his deep-set, juniper colored eyes. His light, pallid hair was kept short and braided against his scalp above his long ears. The intricate twists worked into the fine strands were complimented by a thread of blue. "I won't take us back into the Stormwood, and the Black closes in upon us. We'll need to stop here for the night."

Peroth nodded, though I noticed how his ringed hand fidgeted and brought his thumb and forefinger together with a blade of grass trapped in-between.

A familiar scoff hit my heart like an electrical current. As with Peroth, Darius's features were slimmer and more delicate, but I knew it was him. He strode from the opposite end of the knoll, thumb wrapped over the hilt of a single-edged sword knotted in his sash. His dark carmine hair was long and bound at the nape of his neck by a crimped bit of intricate metal. Strands of it fell across his face and brow like blood red scratches.

His eyes were a vivid cyan blue. This has to be a dream...right? I wasn't certain. The quality of the scene was unequivocally dreamlike, and yet it felt real. The wind against my cheeks and the sunlight on my hair was tangible. The world was brimming with robust color and the fragrance of dewy earth. The absence of the terrifying titan and the monochrome fractals ascertained this wasn't a dream, and yet....

I attempted to prod the nearest Sin—Peroth—in the arm. My incorporeal finger passed through him.

Yelping, I jerked away and decided it best to keep my hands to myself.

"We should fight them," Darius stated, his strange eyes intent upon the Sin Peroth had addressed. "Outside of the wood, we have the advantage, Tehgrair."

The Sin—Tehgrair?—gave the well-meaning sigh of an overtaxed parent. "The Black are never without advantage, Darius," he chided. "Kings above and below only know when you will learn caution."

Darius opened his mouth to argue, but another Sin touched his arm, quieting his protests. The other man was an inch taller than Darius, his face a touch more bookish—but the Sin was undoubtedly related to Pride. It had to be Sethan.

"Listen to Tehgrair, brother," Wrath said, laying a calming hand on Darius's bicep. "It is a safer option."

Safer option? Were the Sins running from someone?

Darius's lips thinned, then he scowled and stalked away with Sethan in tow. If there had been any question of his identity, the Sin's standoffish behavior confirmed he truly was Darius. That kind of rancor was unique only to him. 

Peroth laughed.

I tried to follow Darius, but when I lifted my feet and aimed to cross the grassy slope, I found myself tethered in place, as though a rope were tied about my middle. Again I tried to follow, but I could not leave the Sin of Sloth's side. 

"He'll be the death of us," the one named Tehgrair insinuated, staring at Darius's dwindling silhouette. Peroth only chuckled, his fingers still fraying the heads of the grass stalks. "There should be accountability among us, Cuxiel. He should be held accountable for the stupid things he does." 

Peroth only laughed more while I glared at Tehgrair. Peroth may have found him amusing, but I heard sincerity in Tehgrair's deep voice. He disliked Darius, and obviously found him taxing.

A sound of a distant horn broke over the dale, stilling the casual, disinterested motions of the relaxing Sins. Darius's head jerked toward the noise, but he did not stop walking. The others came to a silent consensus and swiftly followed him. One remained in the tall grass, head bowed as if lost in thought. 

Tehgrair paused and called out to the straggler. "Balthazar, hurry now." 

The Sin couldn't see me, but I nonetheless shrank behind Peroth as Envy rose from the ground, brushing dirt from his trousers. He didn't sneer or perpetuate any threatening mannerisms. The seemingly young Balthier only nodded his acceptance and fell into step.

I gaped. Younger. That was exactly what I seeing; a younger Balthier. A younger Peroth, a younger Darius. The Sins could modulate their age as they saw fit, but they could not fake the absence of time's irrevocable weight. Darius wore his tribulations around his throat like a lead necklace dragging him down; this Darius did not. This Balthier was soft-spoken and obedient. This Sethan was sane. 

This was a memory. A very old one, I wagered. By taking the leaf, I had been plunged into a memory by Crow's End.

The Sins broke in a steady, controlled run. I did not need to run as I was pulled with them, tethered to Peroth's side. I drifted, feeling the lash of the wild grass against my legs and the gritty traction of the dirt beneath my shoes—though I wasn't consciously moving. I wouldn't have been able to keep pace. 

The Sins kept to a patchy but definite path looping over the knoll and the lip of the dale. They chatted while they ran, their voices creating a low, raspy accompaniment to the thump of their feet. A man of lankier build and blond hair joined Darius and Sethan at the group's forefront, while Balthier and the final Sin I could not recognize joined Peroth and Tehgrair.

I wanted to hear what Darius was saying to his brother, but they were too far ahead.

We passed through a final tuft of woods and materialized on the other side of the valley. The earth sloped downward from the crest of the hill and merged with the flatter lowlands. The hearty, rich colors of the forest bled into the more somber shades of the plains. The sky had deepened in hue, becoming a rich, vibrant tapestry of reds and deep, deep violets.

A solitary settlement came into view, nestled at the base of a scruffy hillock with an enormous carved statue atop it. The statue's shadow fell upon the Sins in a sinuous line of black, the figure's elongated arms like ghoulish branches laying twisted upon the brush and weeds. It wore the visage of a man, but it was distorted. The limbs were too long, and the head was that of a wolf's.

The Sins entered the town at a sedate pace, moving from shadow to shadow to avoid the main route through the village's center. I stared at the buildings, confused by their intricate nature. They were built with complicated architectural designs I didn't recognize and a refinement I had not expected to find in an ancient memory. Their foundations were raised by platforms similar to Japanese engawas, but the rooflines were distinctly western.

The Sins were careful to avoid scrutiny, lowering their heads to those they passed while I plainly stared. I noted one man in particular as he was the only one the Sins made a point to circumvent. He was lean and well-built like most of the others, but his foreign garb was encased in a polished set of armor. A navy cape trailed from one of his shoulders. There were gems and diamonds worked into the loose braid his white hair was tied in.

It should have been feminine—but the man's expression was so fierce, and the energy bowing outward from his person was so massive, I didn't find anything feminine or soft about the man. His cape rippled in the wind, his bejeweled hair shone in the sunset, and I swore he had mien of a person who could use the sword at his waist to rip a body into pieces and not think twice.

One gauntlet was clenched upon a silver chain. That chain was connected to a collar binding a wolf of massive proportions. The beast lay at his master's feet, its breath issuing from its massive nostrils in hazy plumes.

We came to a stop at a tavern. It was not a tavern in a traditional sense, but the headier smells of astringent alcohol and the slouched, tired posture of its patrons was universal. There wasn't a bar, stools, or any tables. A collection of demure pits with smoldering hearths had been built into the raised floor, and the people gathered around these, lounging on stuffed cushions with bottles of darkly colored liquid clasped in their hands.

The Original Sins settled at one of these hearths, going unnoticed by the rest of those gathered inside. A woman wearing a pretty lavender wrap dress came by and Tehgrair intercepted her, slipping two tarnished coins into her milky palm as he leaned into her personal space and whispered in her pointed ear. A breeze pulled through the tavern, bringing with it a subtle chill that sent shivers down my spine.

The woman smiled, blushing as she took Tehgrair's coins, nodded at his words, and sauntered away. Tehgrair's forced smile dissolved and a small flicker of darkness entered his irises.

The Sins sat there for a time, eating and drinking what they were given by the pretty women and her helper. They spoke quietly and, though they were visibly tired, they laughed and ate their fill. Sitting as they were, I was able to drift about their hearth, insinuating myself wherever I could, catching bits and pieces of their exchanged conversations.

They mostly spoke of a town farther away, on the other side of the plains. I guessed it was where they had come from before I had been thrown into this memory. The farther I wandered from Peroth, the more distorted their conversations became. The other voices in the tavern were little more than jumbled murmurs.

I kneeled by Peroth and studied the Sin of Sloth's profile. He had an easy, genial smile, and enjoyed the sappy, oak-scented liquid in the bottle he had been handed. I wanted to listen to Darius, but he was seated too far from Peroth.

I had deduced I was in a memory. That much seemed irrefutable, and it also seemed this memory was centered on Peroth. I sat on the wood floor, legs crossed and elbows on my knees as the Sins shared tales and food. I had been thrust into the room with the leaf, which had been presented to me by the Sin's irascible house. This could be why the memory was connected to Peroth and no one else.

This was his memory, but what was this memory? What was this place, and who were these people? What was the purpose of this recollection? I had gone in search of assistance for Darius in Peroth's library and had been purposefully given this vision—but to what end?

The Sins talked. Balthier smiled and shared his wine with the Sin next to him I didn't have a name for. I noticed Darius liked to speak with his hands, and so did his brother. My Sin didn't do that. He hardly talked at all when he could avoid it. When had this joviality faded? When had these content, brotherly creatures become so...bitter?

A song lilted from outside the tavern, quieting the voices of the Sins and the others. I heard the verse and its sublime, wraithlike quality lifted the hairs on the nape of my neck. The singer's voice was singular, and yet it had the depth and range of an entire symphony. A single note resonated in my chest, in my heart, and it swathed a cloak of magic and energy over the tavern's crowd.

This song...this song is a spell. I remembered Darius telling me bits and pieces about the Dreaming, and about their belief in the Song and the existence of melodies in people's souls. I glanced at the ears of the Sins, at the tapered ends and the bejeweled studs piercing the cartilage. I thought of the strange architecture and that beautiful, haunting voice playing upon my heart and soul.

Peroth's memory was not of Terrestria. It was of the Dreaming and their Isle.

The song continued, but the silence in the tavern became tense as two new people entered, shoving aside the tattered curtain covering the main entrance. Most of the tavern goers and the Dreaming in general dressed in bright hues that complemented the pallid tones of their hair and eyes. These grim-faced intruders were dressed entirely in black.

I had been so intent upon the newcomers I hadn't noticed the Sins had risen and were slipping out the rear entrance one by one. Peroth was the last to go, and so I was able to stay long enough to see the black-clad elves grab two patrons by the main entrance and hoist them upright. The patrons grumbled in protest as the stern elves inspected their eyes.

Then Peroth and the Sins were running. They passed an open temple where the Dreaming's song bounced upon pillars of veined marble and filled the nameless town with its melody. The Sins left the chorus behind as they threw themselves into the night. The sound dwindled and was replaced by the percussive thunder of their moving feet and the beat of their anxious breaths.

They feared those intruders. Why else would they bolt so quickly and so suddenly?

"How did they find us so quickly?" the lanky blond haired one shouted at Tehgrair. "How?"

"They shouldn't have."

The forest's edge neared. The trees were lightless now that the sun had eased below the far horizon. There were no stars overhead. No moon.

Pride hesitated. His skin flourished with light as his boots slid on the wet leaves and he confronted Tehgrair. Power ebbed from him in tangible waves. "There is only two of them. We should fight." Darius's vicious snarl flashed in his shadowed face. "I tire of this! This fleeing! This running!"

Tehgrair placed a hand on Darius's chest, shoving him backward toward Sethan and the blond Sin. "Have you not heard a word I've said?!" he yelled. "You cannot underestimate the Black! We must flee!"

A sudden shriek rent the night air. It struck my ear with tremendous force. Had I been a corporeal being, I would have been laid flat by the sheer mind-numbing pitch of the noise. The Sins were leveled to their knees, clutching their bloody ears as they shouted into the dirt.

The ones chasing the demons—the Black as Tehgrair called them—came upon the group in seconds. Darius had been wrong; their numbers had swelled in the interim between entering and leaving the tavern. Five of the Dreaming Children decked in black armor and obsidian cowls now bore down upon the Sins, seeming to appear from the very shadows themselves.

A beast of a man swung a sword as large as me toward Tehgrair, but he dodged. The edge cut the Sin's arm and splayed blood over the ground.

The demons shot into the trees, scattering in different directions. The five Elves gave chase, two following Peroth and Tehgrair. I was only playing witness to this remembrance, but seeing Darius be swallowed by the forest's obscurity with pursuers only inches away from killing him had my stomach twisted into knots.

One of the Dreaming sucked in a breath and again emitted that horrendous, ear-shattering sound. Peroth clutched his head, crashing into the underbrush while Tehgrair disappeared somewhere ahead. The second elf ran after the other Sin as Peroth's lungs heaved for air and he scrambled over the tree roots. His temples and neck were painted red by the blood dripping from his ears. His flesh was illuminated by his soul's inherent lambency as his control over his own power wavered.

The shrouded elf struck Peroth with a white sword, throwing Sloth onto his back. The elf didn't say anything. I expected a flowery speech of victory, but the Dreaming were not so inclined. Terror had Peroth's eyes glassy and bloodshot. He held his hands before himself in silent placation, asking for mercy when the masked elf showed no inclination of giving it to him.

The elf raised his sword for a killing blow.

I had seen several terrifying people in my quest to get revenge on Tara's murders, but I had not encountered anyone as unflinching and cruel as the Dreaming Children.

Someone darted from the tree cover and collided with the elf. In the dark, I couldn't see who it was. They fought and rolled over the matted leaves and pine needles as the attacked tried to throttle the life from of the Black member. The Sin snarled—and choked when the elf drove the sword through his middle. They continued to scuffle in the dark until a loud crack sounded, and the elf slumped.

"Darius," Peroth wheezed, not quite able to rise again. His eardrums and balance had been shattered by the Dreaming's attack. The Sin of Pride straightened and tossed his head back, face contorted with pain as his white-knuckled fists wrapped themselves upon the sword's hilt and tried to extract it. I reached for it without thought.

My hands passed through his. 

Pride shouted in rage and agony as the sword came free. Darius threw it into the underbrush as, bleeding profusely from an open wound, he stumbled upright and grabbed Peroth by the arm. They shared a protracted look, one of mistrust, confusion, and relief.

Piercing cries and shrill whistles continued to ring in the forest. The two Sins exchanged a pair of nods, then set out after their brethren.

The vision faded, then went to black.