I leaned upon the railing of the mezzanine, watching those who meandered below. 

In the hour that I had been lingering there—unwilling to pass by Peroth's office on the way upstairs and unsure if I should venture downstairs—I had seen more than a dozen people cross the foyer and go about their morning routine. Most were of a slender, dainty caste, their hair long and glossy, their faces slender and symmetrical. Each was invariably pretty. The men were effeminate, and the women had voices like small bells chiming on the harness of a sleigh. 

Fairies? I silently questioned as I watched a couple saunter by as they left the dining room to duck into the curtain of crystal beads. Aos Sí? In the myths, they were always quite mischievous and deadly to weak-minded humans. Perhaps I have only become inured to strange things, but these people do not appear so perfidious. 

I tried to rationalize the differences I deciphered in the svelte creatures. While they were all uniformly lovely, various groups and individuals had different characteristics. The ones with darker hair were generally lighter skinned and had silver markings on their throats or faces. Those with light hair had warmer, deeper skin tones. They ranged from gold to bronze to russet. One slender man had skin so rich in hue it was almost indigo. When he glanced upward, I saw he had vivid, cat-like green eyes. 

From what I gathered, the various Aos Sí had different lineages and origins. They spoke different dialects, and didn't mesh well with one another. Their dislike wasn't flagrant nor openly obvious, but I could detect it in the shift of their bodies when one group would come near another, and in the way their eyes would narrow or their lips would come together into tight, irritated lines.

Whatever the reason for their mutual dislike, the Aos Sí all lived in Crow's End. I couldn't fathom why. 

I rested my head against the wooden rails as my eyes slid shut. I tried remembering more of what I had learned about the Aos Sí and their original myths, but my thoughts were disorganized from jet lag and anxiety. The manor's heat pressed at the back of my neck, leaving small spots of perspiration, and a hand touched my nape, ghosting over the fine hair like an exhaled breath.

Startled, I sat up with a reprimand ready—but I was alone on the balcony. The lights suspended within the wall sconces seemed to laugh at my confusion. 

"This place isn't right," I mumbled under my breath, placing a protective hand against my neck. The house radiated cynical amusement with an edge of violence. It sensed that I was an outsider, and it did not know what to make of my presence, so it mocked me. 

I bounced my forehead against the rails. I was going mad. I had ascribed sentient attributes to a house and was internally debating the pros and cons of introducing myself to the manor to see if I could win its favor. I was going utterly mad. 

Or dying. The thought came unbidden to my mind, and I slid my hand from my neck to my beleaguered ribs. The wound there was not getting better. It wouldn't get better. As Amoroth had explained, Balthier had laced the cut with liminal magic. That magic would not allow the injury to repair itself or for other forms of magic to mend the wound. It would persist until it killed me.

People at death's door often have odd or crazed thoughts. Remember imagining there was a beast consuming all sounds and noises just before Darius saved your life?

I bit my lip and dug my fingers into my side until the bruises protested. Stop it, Sara, I told myself. You're not dead. Not yet. Figure out what to do to help Darius survive this.

The tap of shoes upon the steps brought my head up. A familiar man paused at my side, gazing down the length of his straight nose as he considered me. He wore canvas pants and a buttoned shirt with a waistcoat hanging open on his shoulders. I knew him from the night before. I recognized his raven hair and piercing, steel colored eyes.

"You're Anzel," I said, not bothering to straighten from my slouched posture. "Anzel Vyus."

His lips drew apart in a smooth, effortless smile. Anzel was similar to the Aos Sí in the way that tigers are similar to lions. They may be cats, but they are inherently different. I didn't understand how exactly I knew Anzel was not sidhe. He simply had a unique bearing, and there was an almost imperceptible tingle of energy hovering an inch from his skin, as if the man's pores literally exuded magic.

He reminded me of someone I knew. I couldn't distinguish why, or who.

"And you're Sara." Before I could ask how he knew my name, Anzel continued. "Your friend called you that yesterday."

I grimaced. Dammit Darius. "Yeah, I'm Sara."

Anzel crouched, the scent of wet earth and broken leaves falling over me. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," I responded as I watched him from the corner of my eye. "Did you want something?"

He simpered as if I had said something funny. "Many things. At the moment, though, breakfast. Breakfast would suffice."

Anzel rose, and I expected he would depart without another word—but his hand abruptly appeared by my face, held open in silent invitation.

"Come now, you too. You look a bit peaky. Let's get some food in you."

I would have denied him, but I could not remember the last time I had eaten. Hunger would explain the general weakness I was feeling, as well as my delirious thinking. Perhaps Crow's End wouldn't be so intimidating after I filled my stomach, though I was doubtful.

I took the man's hand and allowed him to assist me. His touch was warm with unspent energy. I was hardly an expert on the matter, but I had studied how Saule casted her healing spells and how she evoked her talismans. I had been particularly interested in the magic itself—in the energy she summoned from her soul by burning the mana it produced. I remembered it well, having had the poor witch heal my wounds more times than I was willing to admit.

The energy I sensed within Anzel was similar to Saule's, but not the same. As he was intrinsically different from the Aos Sí, so was Anzel different from a witch—aside from him being a man instead of a woman. His magic was older, almost primitive in its congenital brashness. Saule summoned her magic; Anzel's was just there, ready. Waiting.

He released my hand, dipping into a very brief bow. "After you."

Suspicious of his polite behavior, I nonetheless walked before the unknown creature. I heard his conspicuous steps scuff in my wake. The Sin of Pride's warning concerning the occupants of Crow's End continued to ring in my ears as I led the way to the dining room. My hand upon the stairs' railing twitched.

It was a relief to enter the dining room and find others seated at the table. The groups of superficial, glamorous sidhe were engrossed in their own conversations, but their presence was reassuring. I began walking toward the kitchen—but Anzel tapped my shoulder. "Don't worry about that. Mattie brings out the food."

Frowning, I sat at the end of the bench by the cold hearth with Anzel next to me. Across from us was another man, dressed quite well considering how early it was and how casually dressed the others were. I guessed he was approximately forty years of age, at least in appearance. His black hair was short and combed back from the sharp planes of his face, the lines of his attire severe, while his wintery eyes were a soft contrast. The wide collar of his pea coat was tooled with silver embroidery, and his navy ascot was kept in place by a simple, unadorned pin.

In close proximity to the man, I felt a whisper of his magic brush across me. It was the same as Anzel's.

"Hello, Lord Anzel." The man nodded in greeting, a slight crease appearing between his brows. "Your breakfast will be here shortly."

Lord? I sighed internally and leaned upon my elbows. Of course. He couldn't be a normal pseudo-fairy, could he?

"Elias." Anzel acknowledged. "Sara, this is my friend Elias. Elias, this is Sara."

The man pressed his hand to his chest and bowed his head. "Greetings. I'm Elias, Anzel's servant. He...enjoys being familiar."

Anzel tsked as he tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear and smiled. "Elias often forgets such formality is odd here. Forgive him."

Elias's lips thinned, deepening the fine lines about his mouth and eyes. Mattie came in from the kitchen, carrying two servings of cooked eggs and potatoes. She set one before Anzel, chastising him for stealing toast off the plate before it reached the table. He winked.

Mattie scowled, but said nothing as she went to serve Elias. The older man touched her wrist, stilling the movement. "Serve her first if you would, Mattie."

"Oh, no," I protested. "I'm perfectly capable of getting my own—."

"Nonsense, dear." Mattie brushed my protests aside. "I won't allow anyone but me in my kitchens, so you'll have to make do with being served."

The food smelled divine, so I buried my stubborn inclinations and took the meal without further complaint. Mattie went to check on the others at the table while Elias straightened his cuffs and Anzel polished off his toast. The former regarded me as I stuffed the first bite into my mouth.

"Are you Vytian, by any chance?" he asked, eyes sweeping over my dark hair and my puzzled expression. "I could not help but recognize certain resemblances...."

I shook my head, chewing.

"Valian, then? Wraith kin?"

Again, I shook my head. 

"She says she's human," Anzel told him. Elias's brow rose and the pair shared a significant look I did not appreciate.

I swallowed and reluctantly set my fork aside. "I've heard that term before. Valian. I don't know what it is, and I don't know what a Vytian is," I admitted, unable to meet either of their gazes. "I'm just...human."

Anzel hummed as he stretched to snatch a pitcher and two glasses from a tray at the table's middle. "Curious, isn't it, Elias?"

Elias remained quiet as he contemplated something. Anzel poured a glass of orange juice, sliding it before me. A smile played across his mouth.

"Apologies," Elias finally stated as he watched Anzel, his hands fidgeting. "I confess that I am surprised Sloth allowed a human to reside at Crow's End. It has been...many years since he did so."

I had assumed there were not many other humans here, but it was disheartening to hear that I was the only one. I suddenly felt much smaller, like an ant scurrying from the descending boot of a giant. Uncomfortable, I shifted on the bench.

"We are Vytian," the man continued, gesturing between himself and Anzel. "It's a small realm adjoined to the Vale."

"She doesn't know what the Vale is, Elias," Anzel interrupted. Elias again apologized, growing more flustered by my ignorance and Anzel's well-meaning but unhelpful teasing.

The younger man propped an elbow on the table's lip and leaned upon his arm. His long hair fell in a curtain behind him, blocking my sight of the other creatures enjoying breakfast. "The Vale is the cornerstone of the universe. It's everyone's proverbial holy land. It's infinitely bigger than this realm. Compared to the Vale, Terrestria is an inert wasteland, a dark closet the Valians use as punishment." Anzel bit into another piece of toast, his teeth coming together with an audible, irritated click.

Punishment?

Elias cleared his throat. "What he means to say is the Vale is quite extensive, miss. Its lands are seemingly endless."

"Endless?" I asked. How could a realm be endless?

Elias nodded. "The Vale is quite a bit older the Terrestria and its miles have been charted for generations, yet no one has come to the world's end."

"The wyrms and dragons don't help things," Anzel muttered as he dusted bread crumbs from his hands. "Eating the cartographers who wander through their territories."

Elias tipped his hand in assent. "As you say. Millions of miles have been charted, and yet the Vale continues. There are dozens of moons, and the seasons coincide with the rotations of the two suns, Vo'lion and Idivar. They are never in the sky together during the same season."

My mind was boggled by the idea of a land so massive it had two suns. 

"The Vale is comprised of a multitude of smaller vales, which is how the realm is divided and conceptualized." Elias cleared his throat again, straightening his posture. "Colloquially, America is referred to as 'the States,' and it is a patchwork of many different states and ruling bodies, is it not? The Vale is much the same."

Anzel sighed and began ticking names off his fingers. "There's the Vale of Waters, a domain of the Asrai. The Gloaming Vale, a domain of the Gwyllion and the Ethereal King. The Vale of Seethe, the Vale of Blades, Vale of the Rusted Edge to the south—no one ventures there much. A highly vicious and intolerant subset of dragons resides there."

"The Krik-non Vale is mostly mountains and deserts, while the Vale of Idivar is a splendid place of sun, sea, and greenery. Many Valians holiday there for several years, if they can manage the journey." Elias folded his hands together as he spoke. "Of course, the Sundered Vale is the nearest vale to Terrestria. It contains a threshold to Terrestria and Vyus—and the Pit, for that matter, though it's not very well used, if you understand my meaning."

"Is the war in the Vale of Sioux'oph still happening?" Anzel suddenly asked as he took a small bite of egg.

Elias scoffed. "Is it possible for that war to ever end?"

Anzel shrugged. "I thought one of them would have grown tired by now. Or bored."

I mulled this information over as I ate. The others at the table finished their meals and departed, leaving their empty dishes behind. I thought that quite rude, especially when Mattie brought the plates out without any fuss—but I gaped when the dishes jerked themselves off the tabletop and hovered in the midair before they began to slowly drift toward the waiting kitchen.

"Did you just—?" I asked, gesturing at the final bowl as wobbled out of sight. The two Vytians paused in their conversation to look at me. "Did you see—?"

Anzel laughed, the sound hitting my ear like church bells calling to their congregation. Elias gifted us with a brief smile, which I gathered was not a regular occurrence for him. Anzel lifted his plate above our heads, and in the weak lighting I could discern a small, shimmering rune painted on the plate's base.

"Mattie's an enchantress," he explained, returning the plate to the table. "A, ah, hermetic witch, I believe they're called." 

I swiveled my fork between my fingers, spying the same small rune on the underside of the tines. I pressed my thumb over it, and felt a very faint spark of a witch's energy leave the fork and enter my fingertip. I picked up the spoon and found the same rune. I placed it against my tongue, wondering if it had a perceptible taste. It did, actually. Amazing!

Anzel and Elias had fallen silent. I glanced at the two—and realized they were staring at me as I licked my utensils like a rube. Blushing, I quickly dropped the spoon and fork onto my mostly empty dish. Elias shook his head while Anzel chuckled.

I sat quietly and drank my juice while the two Vytians continued to discuss some war happening in the Vale of Sioux'oph—wherever that was. They had seemingly forgotten about my ignorance of the Vale and the strange names they kept tossing about. Gavin, Thomas, and another man I did not know entered the dining room some time afterward. Gavin saluted me with a small nod and a grin.

The unknown man spotted Anzel and growled, which alerted the two Vytians to the presence of the werewolves. They made scandalized sounds of mirrored disgust and averted their eyes. Anzel muttered darkly in a foreign tongue and Elias responded.

Gavin and his wolves took their seats at the far end of the table. Other than another sharp growl from Thomas and the unknown wolf, they made no comment on the presence of the Vytians. Mattie emerged from the kitchens and instantly struck up a lively conversation with the werewolves. I noted that she hadn't returned with Elias's meal.

"Dogs," Anzel hissed as he turned away from their small group. Elias sniffed, frowning. "Can't even eat breakfast without them descending in a ravenous pack."

"They were very nice to me yesterday," I commented, not caring if my opinion alienated me from Anzel and his companion. After recovering from my initial shock last night, I decided the werewolves and the barghest had been very polite and welcoming to me. For that matter, so were Anzel and Elias. Darius had warned that the residents of Crow's End were dangerous, but so far they had been nothing but cordial and friendly. I didn't know if I should trust my own judgement or the Sin's.

Anzel patted the top of my head, much to my consternation. "Of course they were, love. You reek of Pride. Sloth's dogs would never insult someone associated with one of the Sins."

I eyed the Vytian, not appreciating the snide lilt in his tone when he mentioned Pride or the Sins. "You don't like them," I guessed, watching Anzel's smile devolve into a sneer. "The Sins."

"What is there to like?" He looked to Elias as if asking for assistance. Elias said nothing, though I did detect an unconscious gleam of disapproval in his eyes.

I rose from the bench, fighting the urge to snap at Anzel. His comment was innocuous and not for my benefit. I shouldn't have been offended. The Sins were not likeable. Two had tried to kill me in the past, and I would meet my end either at Pride or Envy's hands. They were bitter and recalcitrant monsters who killed humans and hoarded the skulls like trophies.

They were not likeable. They were detestable. Terrible. Evil.

Yet, I could not sit idle and listen to someone insult Darius.

"Thank you for breakfast," I said through clenched teeth. "I've somewhere I need to be."

As I moved to retreat through the doorway once more, Anzel caught my wrist. The swiftness of his action caused my breath to catch in my throat. His grip was light but sturdy, holding me in place. I met his steady gaze with an affronted glare.

"I do not know what your connection is with the Sin, nor is it any of my business," the Vytian quietly stated. "I simply offer this advice: exercise caution when dealing with his kind. The Sins are subversive, immortal beasts who do not care for those they break and toss aside."

I snatched my arm out of his reach. "Who are you to offer advice?" I demanded, lowering my voice before we could attract the attention of the werewolves currently stuffing their faces.

"Someone who has been dealing with Sloth and ilk for much longer than you." Anzel sipped his juice, his forefinger tracing the cup's dented rim. "As I said, I only advise caution. It is not my place to tell you what to do, but—." He held up a hand before I could argue. "If you find yourself in danger, do not hesitate to come to us. Unlike the sidhe or the wolves, Vytians are not afraid to challenge the Sins."

The harsh set of Anzel's eyes was shiver worthy, so I shut my mouth and didn't decline his offer. Doing so would have been rude, and I had no wish to be rude to Anzel or to Elias. Instead, I once again thanked the pair for breakfast and left the dining room.

I had either made a very powerful ally or a very dangerous enemy. I wasn't sure which.

A/N: "Aos Sí" is pronounced as "Ace She" for those of you interested ;)