Darius took hold of my arm in a bruising grip. He stepped through the Realm without warning, throwing us through the cloying brume. Pain ignited in my lungs as I inhaled a mouthful of the black, smoldering ash. It only lasted a moment, then Darius dragged us both from the Realm and into a vacant hallway.

The Sin grunted and stumbled as he released my arm. The toll of going through the Realm with me in tow, even for such a short jump, was visible. He clutched his chest and leaned against the nearest wall, his fingers digging into his flesh until red spots blossomed on his t-shirt's front.

"Darius," I said as tried to pull his hand away. The Sin's features were sharpening, his bared teeth elongating, his eyes blackening. His bones cracked as his frame gained several inches of height. The shadows writhed between the illuminated sconces interspersed along the hall. "Darius, stop!" 

The creature moved. My back was slammed into the wall as Darius's fingers wrapped themselves around my throat. He leaned into me, his mouth hovering at my ear so I could feel the heat of his breath hit my skin and hear the click of his sharp teeth coming together. 

"Why—!" he demanded as his nail lengthened and began to needle my skin. I stood on the tip of my toes in an attempt to mitigate his strangling grasp. I swallowed, though it was difficult with his hand in the way. "Must you try my patience?!"

"Get off of me," I demanded, refusing to struggle. Struggling would be useless. I could not match the Sin's strength. "I swear to God, Darius, if you don't get off me—!"

"Swear, then!" A terrible power resonated in his voice. It lashed out, striking my flesh with the force of a snapped whip. The shiplap paneling beneath my shoulders groaned and cracked as huge fissures were split open. The sconces dimmed, gas sputtering. "Weak, foolish mortal girl!"

I slapped him. The sound of my hand striking his face broke the ominous white noise of the Sin's latent power. The action shocked him, as Darius's reptilian eyes widened, and the perpetual mask concealing his emotions slipped. I could tell that beneath his assumed visage he was livid—but also scared. Worried.

"Get off of me," I repeated. Darius let me go, and I slid several inches down the wall.

"Idiot," he hissed—though I honestly didn't know who he was addressing. Darius backed away until he collided with the opposing wall. He seemed to shrink in upon himself as his startling features settled and the lights regained their typical brightness. The prevailing cold broke, leaving a trace of dampness upon the carpet runner. 

The Sin's hand went back to his chest, his fingers caged upon his heart as if trying to alleviate a physical pain. It took a great deal of effort for him to lower his arm if the bulging veins threading his muscles were anything to go by. I noticed a lump under the fabric of his t-shirt, just below his breastbone, as if he was wearing some kind of necklace or medallion.

"What was that place?" I gestured behind myself. "I don't understand what that place was, Darius, or even how I wound up there!" 

The Sin seethed as he sank to his haunches. "I told you he could open gates because of the loa spirit he consumed, just like Balthier. What I should have told you was he keeps his gates open, and that it is forbidden to look upon them."

My mouth popped open. "No!" I exclaimed, more in shock than in rejection. "You mean that archway was—?!"

"Yes, Sara. It was the Vale. I hope you enjoyed your brief glimpse of it. You'll not be seeing it again. I'll be making sure of that." 

The Sin rose to his full, furious height and quailed my curiosity. My temper, however, was far from quailed. It was incited. 

"Oh?" I snapped, both of my hands balanced on my hips. My posture conveyed courage I didn't have. Darius himself often reiterated that there was a fine line between bravery and stupidity. Seeing as my current mood was being fed by confusion and fear, I was fairly certain I was encroaching on stupid territory. "What will you do? Lock me up in this refuge? Or is that prison? Well? Which is it, Darius?!" 

"That can be arranged," he said, his voice gliding into a dangerous, silky tone. Gravelly, grumbly Darius was challenging, but snide, smooth-talking Darius was something else entirely. He hadn't used this particular tone with me before, not even when we had first met and Sin had spoken like the devil trying to inveigle Eve. I was instantly wary. "Easily."

He snatched my arm, his hand forming a manacle about my wrist. "Hold your breath."

I didn't do as he said, so I wasn't prepared for our second excursion into the Realm. The pressure took me by surprise and the heat burned a fiery trail through my throat. I fell into the ugly, fuliginous dark, clutching my throat with my free hand. Darius didn't care. His vise-like hold remained upon my arm, forcing me to endure the transport.

In what felt like eons but was most likely only seconds, the Sin let go. I collapsed onto Darius and he, in turn, collapsed into the waiting arms of his dusty armchair. The Sin's parlor was quiet and cool with the window still open to the somber moors. The candles weren't lit, but Darius skin was emanating enough light for us both to see by. I stared at the wavering luminosity as his control over his power waned.

I realized I was sprawled over Darius's lap and threw myself backward. I landed on the floor with a bang and an exhaled "Oof!"

Darius groaned with the effort to regain control. The lambency dulled and the sharp teeth squared themselves off as he muttered foreign curse words into the hand braced over his face. The creature was struggling. The armchair's leather was encased in ice, as was the floor. My hair had been caught in the amounting frost, so I lay very still at the Sin's feet as to not rip it out by the roots.

Sweat dripped from Darius's temples and his nails carved shallow furrows along his blanched cheeks—but he was calming. Slowly, in grudging increments, the needy sound of his breath issuing between his clenched teeth faded to nothing. His head slumped on his shoulder, and his eyes shut.

The ice was gone but I remained where I was as my wound ached and I did my damnedest to ignore it. In the past, Darius had explained that as I came closer to my inevitable demise, it became more and more difficult for me to traverse the Realm. It was difficult. And painful.

Neither of us said a word. When Darius regained control, he sunk into a silent trance and stared at the untended hearth with black, unfocused eyes. My heartbeat ebbed and battled for dominance with the low murmuring of the wind crossing the windowsill. The floor was cold beneath my sore bones, but I still didn't move. I blew a wayward lock of hair out of my eyes.

"It is a refuge," the Sin finally said, shifting enough to touch the toe of his shoe to my hip. "And it is a prison. The manor is both, and it is neither. Crow's End is exactly what it needs to be for those who live beneath its roof. You can find anything you want here. Anything. The manor has a way of...bringing elements together, of making events happen. Your deepest desire resides in Crow's End, but you must ask yourself; what price are you willing to pay to receive it?"

I said nothing. I lifted my left hand and held it before my face. What little light permeated the room from the window revealed thin lines of crimson and burgundy left behind in the creases of my palm from Anzel's cut. I noted that the star's energy had created a burn, but it was rapidly healing. Frowning, I rubbed at the raw spot. Odd.

"What did you want when you stumbled into that room?" Darius asked, his voice rousing my attention. "What were you looking for?"

I pursed my lips, remembering my earlier anger. "You."

The Sin enacted part of his favorite hand gesture, though the motion fell flat as if he were too tired to complete it. "And here I am. The manor delivered you right to me—but not in a way you expected. The manor is not often straightforward in its designs. It will lead you to what you desire, to what you want, but that desire may not be what you truly seek. It can be quite...confusing."

"Tell me about it," I complained. I was again reminded of the strange, blank library and the tremulous silver leaf. So, the manor had tried to give me what I was searching for, but I hadn't understood the gift. I hadn't understood the message. I was missing too much information.

The Sin leaned forward onto his knees, dropping his head so he could glare at me. "Do you know what your friend Anzel seeks above all else? Why he calls Crow's End a prison?"

"Because he was sentenced here. Because Peroth is his warden?"

Darius scoffed. "Peroth is his babysitter, yes, but not his warden. Above all else, Anzel seeks a way back into the Vale. The only way is through a gate, and the only way Anzel will get through the gate is if Peroth gives him permission. You could say all roads lead to the same destination for the Vytian. Crow's End will deliver him to Peroth over and over and over again, and he will never get a different result. So the manor has become the Vytian princelings cage.

"Our desires become the bars of our cell. The refuge you seek can so easily become a prison of your own design."

A realization dawned upon me, and I sat up, bringing my face closer to Darius's. He blinked but did not retreat. "The Republic asked Peroth not to let Anzel through the gate, didn't they? To not let him return home?"

Darius nodded.

A tinge of sorrow filtered through me as I considered Anzel's plight. He wanted to return to Vyus. He wanted to go home, but couldn't. I could relate, in a way.

"Darius, I saw something else in that room," I said, pushing aside my unwarranted concern for the Vytian. I could do nothing for him. I couldn't tell him where the gate was, even if I wanted to. I had no idea how to return to that room and had no desire to do so.

"Something else?"

I held up my left hand to study the burn. It was nearly gone. "Yes. When I first arrived in the room, it was very dark and there were...stars."

"Stars?" The line between Darius's brows deepened. "Explain."

"Very small stars. Or, at least, they looked like stars. I could touch them. I did touch one, and it gave me a bit of a burn on my palm, but it's going away."

Darius's eyes flicked from my face to the palm in question. "No, not stars. You mean something like this...."

The Sin rotated his hand upon the chair's armrest so his palm was prone. I felt the brackish current of his power rise upward as he concentrated, his fingers tightening into claws. A shadow burbled to life, hanging just above his hand. Inside the warbling, inky shadow were one or two little stars.

"Yes!" I said, no less awestruck by his small stars than I had been by Peroth's. "Yes, just like that! But it was bigger. Much bigger. It covered the entirety of the room."

Darius sighed and the darkness melted into his hand, taking the stars with it. The Sin drooped, his forehead very nearly touching mine. "It's not stars, you daft woman. Though, I guess it must look like that. It's energy from the mana we siphon off souls. I've explained that every soul has its own resonance, correct? When forced to manifest, these resonances will collapse upon themselves while repelling the other energies around them. Hence the tiny, seemingly stellar bodies floating around.

"It's not a common practice. It pushes energy outside our bodies, which is the exact opposite of what we wish to do. It can be done to share energy, though. To be vulgar, it's like spitting your meal out for another to take."

I grimaced at the imagery. Glancing at Darius's empty hand, I decided the effort of expelling such a massive amount of energy would explain why Peroth had looked so tired—but it didn't explain why he had done it.

Nor did it explain what that thing behind him had been.

Darius followed my eyes to his own hand. His fingers curled in upon his empty palm as he muttered, "Peroth has much more energy than I."

Judging by the display I had illicitly glimpsed within the gate room, I would say Peroth's reserves were infinitely deeper than Darius's. The way Darius admitted this fact, though, was alarming. He sounded as if he were confessing to a terrible crime.

I gazed into the creature's stately face. His eyes had shut, though the creases at the edges of his lids remained, as did the furrow between his brows. The Sin was exhausted. He was hungry. His quest for a weapon capable of killing Balthier was consuming what energy Darius retained, chipping away at the immortal being until all that was left was this shell of a demon too tired to be petulant or angry or rude.

I just wanted to help him. I just wanted Darius to live.

Tentatively, I laid my hand upon the side of his face. My fingers brushed over the damp hair at his temples and the cusp of his ear. His skin felt feverish. Darius's lashes wavered before his eyes opened, focusing upon me. Red striations broke the monotony of his blackeyes.

The Sin exhaled as the corner of his mouth quirked. His eyes shut again as he leaned ever so slightly into my palm. "I've fallen far if I am receiving such pity from an idiot mortal girl. King's breath, if Peroth knew he'd mock me for centuries."

I grumbled, and yet I couldn't hide my smile. What kind of fool was I when I welcomed the pithy, scathing remarks of a brimstone-biting hellion?

After a moment, the Sin gently knocked my hand away, having indulged in my pity enough. "Why is it I have such difficulty remaining angry with you?" he queried, capturing a lock of my hair. He proceeded to twist it about his finger as he peered through his dark lashes. "If another human touched me with such familiarity I would make her regret it. You are an indelibly irritating creature. By rights, I should lock you in a room somewhere and be done with it. Why do I tolerate you? Why I am no longer angry?" He tugged on my hair. "Why?"

"If you're expecting a serious answer, one isn't forthcoming—ow!" I detangled myself from his grasp and stood, massaging my sore scalp. "Don't do that!"

"You are not what I expected from a shadeborn."

I froze. "That word," I said, not quite believing Darius said it. I had heard the monster in my dreams say it, and Peroth not an hour before. "That word, 'shadeborn.' What does it mean?"

The Sin relaxed into his armchair, concealing his expression with the heavy shadows cast by the flared wings. "Another time, Sara."

"What do you mean?" I demanded as my voice rose. "Just tell me."

"Sara." My name issued from the dark in a solemn, threatening promise. "I am tired. Do not test my patience further today."

I ground my teeth in aggravation. This reticence with information was a familiar facet to the Sin of Pride, though not one I welcomed. Why wouldn't Darius tell me? I wished to understand. I needed to understand, and not simply because my pride couldn't stand being mired in such ignorance. If I didn't comprehend something as simple as this word people kept lobbying above my head, then what hope did I have in comprehending a way to help him?

Why didn't Darius understand I only wanted to help him survive? I wasn't going to live, but I would do almost anything to help the fool endure Balthier.

I started walking toward the door. Darius stirred like a snake shifting from its chosen burrow. "Where are you going?"

"I'm hungry," I lied. I wasn't, but I decided lunch was the perfect excuse to find a moment to clear my mind.

Darius settled again. "Bring me something."

I glared over my shoulder as I opened the door. "No. I'm not your servant. Get your own food."

The Sin muttered something insolent in response but began to rise from the chair to accompany me.

It wasn't until I had cleared the threshold that I realized the door had not opened onto the right hall. It had opened onto a stone passageway smelling of bitter decay and old, salted stone. Oily light spilled from crackling torches.

"Darius!" I tried to back away, but I was too slow. The door ripped free of my hand and slammed shut. "Darius!"

"Sara!"

The Sin and the door were gone, his voice cut off like a record mid-track.

I was trapped...again.