The distant howls of weres upon the moors were an eerie siren to the night's advance. They wove together in an indiscreet tale of alarm and warning. "Danger!" those howls echoed. "Danger! We are here! We are watching!"

Cuxiel's ward hummed in chorus with the wolves as the iridescent whorls glimmered with the air's constant moisture. Bullfrogs croaked in the thrushes and the creeks lay silent with their waters encrusted by slush and ice. The crows were absent from the trees.

The Sin of Envy paced the line of the ward, careful to keep his hands well away from the barrier and its damaging touch. The dormant bracken snapped below his leather shoes as he walked the perimeter. He'd walked the boundary a thousand times in the past month and maybe a million more times in the past few centuries.

No weaknesses existed. No holes in its flawless defense—and yet there was an entrance. He just couldn't find it.

Aggravated, Balthier suppressed the urge to strike ward. Doing so would only attract Cuxiel's attention, and though distracting Sloth provided the occasional amusement, Envy wasn't in the mood to exchange barbs with the other Sin.

He was in the mood to shed blood. He had been denied and outmaneuvered far too often of late. Someone would answer for his indignation.

The weres were trailing Balthier, though they remained unaware of his presence. Something had the beasts riled and on edge. To Envy's best knowledge, the average patrol of the manor's grounds happened every six hours or so, and yet the wolves had been sniffing at the border all day and night.

Something had changed.

Gravel crunched as he crossed the road at the lane's mouth. The iron letters of the manor's name taunted the sulfurous creature.

Someone stood at the gate, waiting. Waiting for Balthier.

Envy recognized the boy, and he knew him not to be a boy at all. The Sin had last seen the svelte man numerous decades ago, before Cuxiel's ward had been rendered. His black hair was slack and listless about his drawn face and his hands were painted in a vivid red. The red wove through his veins in a network of pulsating spider webs.

The sweet, cloying smell of roses rotting on the vine met Balthier's nose. The scent stirred his memory.

The man stared squarely at Envy with an expression of pure loathing.

"I know you," Balthier asserted as he pointed at the rain-drenched creature and sifted through his recollection. "Which is odd. Very few mortals survive meeting me."

The man's eyes glittered with animosity. "We happened upon one another briefly when you murdered the Kyra woman."

The recollection solidified in Balthier's mind. He held the fleeting of image of seventeenth century attire and heard the swish of skirts accompanied by the whine of violins. A ballroom. A dance. The man, then a boy, understanding Balthier's nature with no more than a glance.

"The Vytian prince," Envy said with a snap of his fingers. "My, my...you still live."

Anzel Vyus said nothing in reply. He stood at the precipice of the ward, only inches from crossing its barrier, and the rotten floral scent grew heavier as the Sin approached.

"Such a night to be out in the marsh," he crooned as he reached out and waved his hand just shy of the ward's surface. Though his face was far too near the Sin's caress for comfort, the Vytian didn't flinch. "Waiting here, as if expecting someone."

"Your presence beyond the manor's grounds is well known," the princeling spat.

"Is it?"

"Yes."

The ward protested Balthier's presence, sending a spark of unleashed energy through his fingertips. He withdrew just enough to avoid the coming crackle. Already he grew tired of his verbal joust and wished to return to his solitary march.

"Be brief, Vytian. My time is precious."

Anzel sneered and stepped across the ward. Not quite believing the princeling was that stupid, Balthier surged forward and aimed to knock the entitled fool's head from his shoulders—when he recalled the smell of decaying flowers yet again. It was quite distinct, and when coupled with the strange coloration upon his hands, it evoked a specific memory.

Blood. Green magic running wild and unrestrained. Screaming. One of the second-borns shrieking in his death throes as a black-haired man with hands painted scarlet ripped him apart.

Envy recoiled before reaching the Vytian, then put space between himself and the man. The Vytian continued forward.

"Cunning thing you are," Balthier tutted as the princeling raised his hands and the red veins pulsed. Death magic. Someone had died to fuel the Vytian's power—and Envy had witnessed the fallout in the past. It was not something he wished to experience again.

"I have one demand of you, creature," Anzel confided as his hands quivered and his eyelids flickered. "Does she live?"

Balthier's brow rose. "Who?"

"Don't fuck with me!" the Vytian yelled. "He came for her! Tell me if she still lives!"

Envy had no idea what the fool was talking about. His gaze roved over the magic-stained hands, along the veins tainted with someone else's blood. Balthier's tongue flicked over the sharp points of his teeth as he considered what the Vytian was saying.

He came for her.

"Came for whom?"

Anzel twisted one hand in a circle and Balthier felt a corresponding pain rupture in his chest. He stumbled as fluid coursed into his lungs and issued between his lips. Had Balthier been a lesser Sin, the damage would have been devastating.

"Is Sara still alive?!"

Sara. The Sin glared at the Vytian as he slid his fingers over his bloody chin and wiped them off on his lapel.

He came for her.

Sethan. If the girl was no longer at the manor, who else could the Vytian possibly mean? Berour was dead. Danyel didn't have the gall to challenge Balthier in this manner. Envy had expected such an act of defiance on Sethan's part, especially considering his deranged need to kill Darius, though he hadn't thought the mad Sin would be able to so aptly enact such a scheme.

He has my host. Perhaps his usefulness has run its course.

"Answer me!"

The second lash of the Vytian's magic struck with tremendous force, hewing flesh from bone and spaying the road with a curtain of red. The magic wandered through the Sin's body like an explorer hacking through a jungle, but Envy grinned and bore the agony with perverse amusement.

"Perhaps...but why the interest, boy?" he queried as the rips in his lung knitted together once more. "Why take such precautions and approach me?"

The Vytian trembled. It wasn't fear that gripped him, but exhaustion. The magic he employed was exacting its toll upon his body. It wasn't a tool to be employed without deliberation. "Because I want her released."

Balthier harrumphed—then dodged the third wave of unseen force emanating from the man's hands. The heat of its passage brushed Balthier's face, then struck a tree a number of feet off the roadside. Its bare canopy exploded in a shower of sparks and wood chips.

"If you think your nifty tricks are enough to cow me, you are mistaken." Balthier bit his lower lip and allowed the barest rill of his Absolian gift to penetrate the night. Anzel faltered, his knees weakening—then a construct applied with thin, clear paint upon his throat flared. The Vytian's gaze harden with anger and hesitation as the creature's construct ate away at the disease filtering into his system.

Too cunning to live. He's learned our tricks from observing Cuxiel.

The princeling swallowed and licked his lips. "I have something you want."

"You have nothing I want." Balthier stalked nearer and the Vytian wisely backed away. He had courage in his withering heart, but no amount of courage could bolster his natural instinct. The need to bow to an apex predator such as Balthier was a primal urge in lesser creatures. No one could meet his gaze and hold his ground.

Anzel bared his teeth and clenched his fists. "I can let you through the ward."

Balthier froze, his ability flagging. "You lie."

But he wasn't lying. Had the Vytian been lying, Balthier would've been able to taste it in the essence.

"I've lived in this blasted manor for centuries. Do you really think I wouldn't have discovered all of its secrets?" Anzel crossed his arms. Balthier could sense the ward only a foot or so behind the soaked Vytian. Envy couldn't grab him, couldn't coerce him. Not with that vile magic covering his hands.

His control, and he wasn't sure if he cared. He didn't care that the Vytian saw the naked ferocity on his face or the desire in jade eyes. Oh, yes. He wanted inside the ward.

"Tell me," Balthier raged, his patience unraveling faster and faster. "Now."

"I will. Oh, I will." The smile on the Vytian's face was purely vitric. "But you'll do two things first. You'll let Sara go—then you'll send us home."

"Home? You mean....?" His eyes rolled toward the manor and the mist it hid behind.

"No," the Vytian denied with vehemence. "To the Vale."

Ahh...so that's what he wants. Balthier should have assumed as much. When he had first seen the Vytian in the manor before it lost its fine veneer, the princeling had been angling for a return to Vyus. Envy was surprised Cuxiel had withheld return passage for as long as he had.

But maybe...maybe this would work in Balthier's favor.

It was unfortunate he had no intent to release Sara once he ripped Sethan's head off. He dares touch my host? I warned him. He will see what happens when one betrays me.

"Hmm. How do you know I can send you home? That's not a well-known secret."

Anzel's eyes dipped and slid away as if guilt were plaguing him. "Something I heard. A comment briefly given, stating that both you and Sloth could open the way. It was a recent discovery. It doesn't matter. Will you do as I say?"

Balthier wouldn't do as he said. Balthier obeyed no one.

"I am amenable to your...request." Again his tongue flashed over the lengthened tips of his devolved teeth. Excitement quivered in his middle, rose like a specter rises above its grave. Give me, his thoughts rebelled. Give me. Give me. Give ME. "But I must ask...you do understand what I intend to do once I pass the ward?" He spat. "Who I intend...to kill?"

Unflinching, the Vytian tucked his hair behind his angular ear. No remorse shone upon his face. His eyes were akin to newly honed blades balanced upon the delicate flesh of a throat.

There's no mercy to be found in this creature's heart.

"Yes."

Balthier smiled and slowly, carefully, extended his hand with his fingers splayed. "Then...lets strike a bargain. What do you say?"

The wolves still howled warning in the distance as the night persisted.

Expressionless, Anzel nodded.