Time. Was it a concept? No. Hundreds of years of being alive meant nothing. From all the years I spent living alone, all I had from it were memories I couldn't forget and days I couldn't ignore. Being forced to be with the mortals—hiding, blending, pretending—took a greater toll on me than my punishment.

I made a mistake; yes, I acknowledged it. Took me years. And hundreds of bottles of whiskey.

Admitting my faults made me realize that mortal life wasn't for me. Humans were small and insignificant. I'd spent ages memorizing their mannerisms. Their quirks. For what? To talk like them? Laugh and joke like them? I wanted to be far from their pitiful way of life and back into the darkness that birthed me.

I only needed to prove it. And the bumbling fool who followed me home from the club would be my ticket.

Or at least a start.

I need this.

"Wait, no, no, no." The fool stumbled into the inner circle I longed to be a part of again. He crashed into the chair on the left, hissing because demon metal hurt. It burned the skin and, if held onto long enough, ripped it clean from the bone. If the man were smart enough, he'd avoid them at all costs. Not that it mattered.

Cradling his hand, the fool looked at me with terrified eyes. "Hey, you said you had a few bottles, and we'd share." He bit his lip. "That'd we'd score some chicks, take 'em home, get fucked up—you said that!"

Keep strong. Don't listen.

"Yes, yes, yes." I hadn't used my Sin power in many years, but it didn't mean I forgot how to lure them in. All I had to do was look into his eyes and see his desires—a nasty little thing. I'd promised him what he wanted to hear. "I did say that, didn't I? Big tits, lots of booze. You were all in."

"Yeah, I was!" he scoffed. "But this?" He gestured around the room, pointing at the seven chairs and the symbols on the floor. His finger trembled as he focused on the statues at the start of the room. Tall, large, and made of obsidian. Him. Her. Our Sire and Mistress of this realm. "Come on, man. Look, if you let me leave, I won't tell anyone—"

I leaned against the seat on the right. My old seat. Oh, how I missed it. Crafted just for me, painted black like my soul. The tint of green was a nice touch, but it'd never been my idea. Yet, it grew on me. Made me envious. "You won't tell anyone, what, hm? That you wanted to go and get high with a random guy you met at the club? Or how have you been thinking about that redhead next door and needed to say hi again?"

His eyes widened. Oh, yeah, I knew that, too. My time away from the Deadly Seven was empty, but I had my powers. It ran through my veins and wouldn't leave, no matter how much I'd bleed—another reason I wanted out of their world. I didn't need to know their every desire when I looked at them. I had respect. And morals.

The fool chuckled nervously. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Mhm." I looked at my nails. "I'm sure you don't."

"I just wanted to smoke. And drink," he said.

"Oh, I know." I patted my lips, smiling. "And you did. A lot. Shit." I had to laugh. "Two bottles of Hennesey? Come on, how bad is your liver?"

I was saying things I shouldn't have known. But if you looked at him, it was obvious. Yellow eyes. Dark teeth. And I knew the dry tint to his skin wasn't a gift or makeup. He was sick and put himself here. If anything, bringing him before the Deadly to kill him was a blessing. If not me, he'd done it himself.

"Come on, I—" Coming close to my seat, he pressed his hands together to plead with me, then hissed when it burned. He stumbled back into another chair. He cried out on impact. His whimpering echoed in the room as he tried to find an escape, moving in circles, circles, circles. It made me sick, and I needed him to stop.

He'll be dead soon. Just wait a little more.

"All right, shit." I rushed up to him, grabbing his shoulder. He crumbled beside me, knees on my feet. I wanted to laugh at his blubbering face but couldn't. Again, I had respect. Some dignity, too.

"Please, just let me go," he whispered as tears blended with boogers, and both slipped between his lips. "I wasn't going to do anything, I swear."

"Mhm." I wasn't looking at him anymore. I focused on the room. The Deadly was never far from home, and home was never empty. Someone must have heard this shit of a human. With the number of sins he carried in him, he was a fucking siren to us, calling us to grant him the abilities he couldn't do on his own.

"I swear, please, I just—"

I glanced down into his eyes. His new thoughts were on the surface. He feared death. Parts of him trembled with regret. Even a tiny part of his heart cried out to his mother because she was always a voice of reasoning for him.

Frowning, I sighed. Don't have a heart now, Octavio. You're on this journey to get away from trash like him.

"Look," I licked my bottom lip and touched his face, "I want you to look up at this ceiling," I pointed above my head, "and ask whoever it is you pray to for forgiveness. This will be over soon."

His mouth opened, jaw damn near hitting his chest. "You're going to kill me?" he gasped. "Please, no, I—"

"Listen to me." I forced a smile. "It may be the only chance you have at redemption."

He was crying. Hard. He grabbed my legs so hard that he pushed me into my seat. The pain should have made him run when his elbows hit the chair, but he didn't. He stayed, pleading, spitting all over my new black jeans. My guilt worsened every second.

If you want to get back in here, Octavio, this needs to happen. He's only got a year to live. Max.

I looked away from him. There was once a point in my life where I could look at a human and feel no remorse. It was my life as a member of the Deadly. We sought the sinful and urged their desires to the surface. And to keep the balance, we destroyed those with souls made of light, immune to our evils. Was it a good life? When it was all I knew, I loved every bit of it.

Then I met her, and it changed. But I reacted to a sin that wasn't mine and ruined a chance within my grasp. I only returned to this room out of loneliness.

I never learned, but I cannot be alone. This is a different kind of darkness.

"Hello!" I called out to the darkness. "Is anyone home!"

For a minute, there was nothing but silence from within the room. The temple had been built to keep the sound of the world from seeping in; to be out of sight and mind of mortals. In my state, it was an awful adventure searching the world for the walls I once called home. It forever moved, an enigma to a single location.

But I was here. I found it. And I would only leave once someone spoke to me.

I tapped my watch against the corner of my old seat. The clattering silver echoed. "Hello!" I called out again. "I know you hear me!"

Ah, footsteps. The slow movement approached. I looked toward the sound, listening to the shoes hitting the floor. Judging by the pace and the lack of urgency, I knew who it was. And it wasn't the Sin I hoped would greet me.

Biting my lip, I waited for a silhouette to form beneath the shining light of the moon slipping in through the temple's peak. Long, raven hair overpowered the shadows. Then came the glowing yellow eyes.

Forcing a smile had been my skill of the night.

"Sloth!" I faked enthusiasm, lifting an arm into the air. "I wasn't expecting to see you."

I wanted to see Pride.

Sloth hadn't changed, not that he would've. When a Sin was selected, their form remained; unless selected as children. Sloth had been a grown man when he left his mortal life—a short-grown man.

The barely five-foot-tall, once a thorn-in-my-side, walked toward the Deadly seats with his hands in his pocket. He cocked a hairless brow and shook his head. "Is there a reason you're making all this noise?" he asked.

"Well, no 'Hello,' then. Straight to the point." I cleared my throat and motioned to the man still groveling at my side. "I was looking for Pride."

"He isn't here, Octavio," Sloth said. "And you shouldn't be, either."

They won't welcome you back so quickly. You need to prove yourself.

"Yes, I know I'm banned, but," I stood, lifting the man with me, "I brought a soul as an offering."

"A soul?" Sloth pursed his lips.

"A SOUL?" The fool tried to pull away. "You ARE going to kill me? Why? Why me? Please, please, PLEASE!"

My heart thumped. A small light flickered in the corner of my eye. I wouldn't glance at it. It wasn't real. It was a memory. Her memory. There wasn't a reason to turn and hope to see her standing there with her arms extended, gesturing for me to fall into her embrace. The last time I'd done that, I nearly fell off a cliff.

She wasn't there to pull me away from my sinful actions. And that was my fault.

Go on, keep ahead. This is your only chance.

"Yes, see?" I shook the fool. "A soul! He isn't the best, but," I glanced at him, cocking a brow, "his intentions for the night are evil enough to grant me an audience, right?"

Sloth sighed, approaching his seat—third from the right. "As I said, Pride isn't here. And him?" Sloth pointed at the man who struggled in my arms. "We've grown beyond the pests of this world. If he had any good intention in life, it may have been acceptable."

"I—what?" My eyes widened as I looked from Sloth to the man who cried. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing more tears onto his lips. I looked at him for a moment, trying to remember the rules of old.

All souls were valued as energy for the realm. I hadn't been out of the Deadly for that long. Could one hundred years make that much of a difference?

"So, no one hunts filth anymore?" I scoffed and dropped him. "Wonderful. What am I supposed to bring then?"

A small smile tugged at Sloth's lips. The yellow tint in his eyes shimmered. "A soul you couldn't kill."

My heart thumped again. Her face came to mind, her luscious lips. I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to push away the incoming sounds of her happiness. Her sighs. Noises I wasn't allowed to have then, nor would I ever have again.

I opened my eyes again, looking at the one Sin who lazily hated me from afar. "That was unnecessary."

"So was bringing us this thing." Sloth pointed at the man as I dropped him. "Do you know he's killed someone? Multiple people."

I licked my bottom lip as the fool grabbed my leg. There he was, pleading again. His fingers continued to dig into my jeans with his dirty nails. I glanced down at him to see the darkness I'd seen before, the reason I lured him out of the club. I couldn't see the murders, just the intent.

I was that far from my powers, wasn't I?

Don't let this stop you. You are alone. You need your family. If it hurts you so, let the man go, Octavio.

"You didn't see that, did you?" Sloth slowly made himself comfortable in his seat. "Why are you back here?"

I chewed on my lip. My fingers itched. I knew why I was here. Loneliness tore at my soul. I could only look out so many windows, staring down at cities that had nothing for me for so long. It killed me and destroyed what was left of me.

Go back, Octavio. This may be wrong. You aren't like this.

I couldn't live like this anymore. I refused. There was more for me; I knew it. I only needed to spill blood within the circle and receive an audience.

Go back to the light and seek freedom.

"Shut up!" I shouted—at no one. Sloth's eyes opened wide, a grin forming on his face. He chuckled as I looked back at him, sweat forming on my brow. I rubbed at the side of my head, wishing my thoughts to stop. Clearing my throat, I whispered, "When will Pride be here?"

"Who knows?" Sloth shrugged. "I don't know where he is or what he does. He's his own Sin, Octavio."

My lips pressed into a thin line. I'd planned this meeting for months. MONTHS. Why couldn't this be as easy as it was? My mistake was over a century ago. Someone must have forgotten it. "Fine, if not Pride," my eyes panned back over to Sloth, "then who else is here?"

"Besides me?" Sloth leaned into his palm.

"Obviously, besides you," I turned away and lowered my voice, "shit."

Sloth snickered. I never understood how he found everything so funny. It bothered me. I remembered the meetings and the assignments, and each soul he was given was met with laughter. There was more to the world than smiles.

Let go of the hate, Octavio. I think this is a mistake.

The fool at my foot took the opportunity. He turned, crawling on hands and knees, and moved toward the opening between the chairs. The blood from his blistered hands smeared on the art of the inner circle. Disgusting. Tarnished. I growled as I watched him and rolled my eyes.

Not only had I brought trash, but I also made a mess. Who would want to see me now?

Reaching into the sin of Sloth, I slowly moved to grab the man. Yet, when I lifted my foot, a wind rushed past me. Two gusts. One felt hot like fire, and the other warm, soothing, and comfortable. In an instant, the man was in the air, legs dangling as he wished for the ground again.

"Please—" he began to plead, but it was cut by the sound of his snapping neck. I watched him drop to the floor, splashing in his small puddle of blood and sending red droplets on a pair of white sneakers.

I looked at the shoes, to the pants that matched, before letting my gaze slide up the massive frame I hadn't seen since that day. A small smile lifted my lips as I looked into red eyes. I was happy his beard remained. "Gluttony," I said. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

Before he could say a word, the second gust of wind became a figure, too. Despite the disgusting feeling associated with his sin, Gluttony was the comfortable, soothing air comparable to a hot meal on a cold winter day. The other—the hot, burning, scorching fury—was Pride. Like Sloth, he was short. But his presence was terrifying.

I gulped as I looked into his black eyes. Intimidation hit my chest. "Pride," I said.

He crossed his arms over his black sweater as he looked at me. His appearance was so casual; he'd blend with the mortals more than I ever could. "Octavio," he pressed his lips to his nose as if he smelled trash, "why are you here?"

"He brought us a gift," Gluttony said. He pulled a small towel out of his back pocket to wipe at his shoe. When the blood left a nasty streak, he sighed. "Well, this won't come off easy, huh?"

I frowned. "Gluttony, I—"

"We didn't request a gift, Octavio." Pride moved around the fool's dead body to sit in his chair, the circle's center. He unfolded his arms, allowing his fingers to uncurl over the armrest. With a deep breath, he leaned back. "Nor did we request your presence. Why are you here?"

You can still leave, Octavio. Go home and look in the mirror. It's okay.

"I want back in," I said, despite the thoughts in my head, the voice that blended with mine. Whatever conscience left over from her hold on me did me no favors. Her light forever confused me, her love in my veins. She was dead, and I needed to accept that. Gluttony told me I'd learn, even if it took me hundreds of years.

I was here for that chance. To fall back into the darkness that strangled my heart.

"Why?" he asked.

Go on, Octavio, be honest. It's what you've been aching for.

"I—" I placed my hand on my chest, preparing myself for what I needed to say. Gluttony, still hovering over his shoe, looked up and locked eyes with me. Something shifted in his expression. Surprise? Possibly. He'd been the one to let me leave, and yet, here I was.

I'm sorry, old friend.

"I want to return as Envy." I straightened and lifted my chin. "I want to come home."

Silence fell over the room. Sloth squeaked, covering his face, but he didn't say anything. Gluttony stood, dropping the dirty towel on the fool's dead body. He slowly shook his head.

But Pride grinned at me. A malicious tug at his mouth lifted his cheek. It wasn't long until he laughed, leaning forward in his chair. His black eyes shifted back into a regular blue as he widened them to stare at me. And said, "Bullshit!"