I floated in warm water.

  Not water, exactly - something softer, weightless, like being suspended in nothing at all. My body didn't ache. My muscles didn't scream. For the first time in what felt like years, I wasn't tired.

  It was a familiar sensation.

  I didn't want to open my eyes.

  "Wake up, Damian."

  Charlotte's voice drifted through the warmth, distant but insistent.

  I didn't move. Didn't respond. Just let myself drift.

  "I know you can hear me."

  "Time flows the same out there?" I murmured, eyes still closed. "Or can I relax here? Hour or two, maybe?"

  "Time is distorted here. But not in the way you'd prefer."

  "Sounds complicated."

  "It is."

  I exhaled, the warmth cradling me like a second skin. "What did you mean earlier? When you said I was close?"

  "You've reached the Eleventh Seal of my pathway," Charlotte said. "Or near enough. That thing is trying its hardest to stop it, of course."

  "The shadow man," I mumbled.

  "Yes. But fortunately, it's inevitable at this point. You've already ascended. By the time you wake, I will have regained my control."

  "Good for you," I muttered. "Now let me rest."

  "You need to wake up."

  I groaned internally but didn't open my eyes.

  Then I felt her - closer now, impossibly close. Her breath against my ear, a whisper that crawled down my spine.

  "One more thing, Damian. A little tip for you."

  Her voice dropped, silk wrapped around steel.

  "Lies cannot be seen through red eyes."

  An arm wrapped around my neck, holding me tightly.

  "Now wake up. I need to have a quick conversation with my sister."

  My eyes snapped open.

  ---

  I stood in a hallway.

  Long, carpeted, dimly lit by sconces that cast flickering shadows across walls lined with doors. Each door was labeled - brass plaques gleaming under the faint light.

  0-10.

  10-20.

  20-30.

  Age ranges. Decades of a life, sectioned off and sealed.

  I turned slowly, taking it in. This was Mary's equivalent to my cage. It had to be. But where Charlotte's cage was intimate, oppressive - this was clinical. Organized. Segmented.

  Like memories locked in filing cabinets.

  Most of the doors were sealed tight, handles wrapped in chains. But one stood ajar.

  0-10.

  Beside me, Charlotte materialized - red hair adorned with a crow hairpin cascading down her shoulders, dressed in her usual flowing black gown. She smiled, sultry and knowing.

  "Well," I said, glancing at her. "Where's this sister of yours?"

  Charlotte's smile widened. "She's coming now."

  As if on cue, golden liquid began seeping from beneath every door in the hallway - viscous, glowing, alive. It pooled across the carpet, spreading like veins of molten light.

  "Go see that girl," Charlotte said, gesturing toward the open door. "This conversation should be a private one."

  I nodded once. "See you soon."

  Charlotte's eyes gleamed. "I certainly hope so."

  I pushed the door open and stepped through.

  ---

  The theater was massive.

  Rows upon rows of red velvet seats stretched back into shadow, rising in tiers toward a ceiling lost to darkness. At the far end, a screen - enormous, flickering with grainy black-and-white film.

  The projector's light cut through the air like a blade, dust motes swirling in its glow.

  On the screen, a girl moved - young, maybe seven or eight. She smiled at the camera, curtseyed, performed. But the scenes shifted rapidly, jerkily. Each one showed her smiling, bowing, speaking words she didn't mean. Over and over. The same performance, the same mask, repeated until the images blurred together.

  I scanned the theater.

  Three figures sat among the empty seats.

  One in the front row - blonde hair catching the projector's light.

  Two near the back - shadows, barely visible.

  I started walking, boots silent on the carpeted aisle. My eyes adjusted as I moved closer to the back row, and—

  I froze.

  The Regent.

  Cassian sat perfectly still, hands folded in his lap, a serene smile on his face. His eyes never left the screen, expression beatific, almost saintly.

  "Is that you, Cassian?" I called out, voice echoing through the empty space.

  No response.

  He just smiled. Watching. Content.

  I shivered.

  Beside him sat a woman - auburn hair flowing down her back, beautiful in a fragile, haunting way. She looked younger than Cassian, maybe mid to late twenties. Her smile mirrored his - soft, peaceful, wrong.

  I stared at her for a long moment, then turned away.

  Whoever she was, I'd deal with it later.

  I walked down the aisle, closer to the front. The blonde hair resolved into familiar features - Mary, sitting motionless in the center seat, staring at the screen with hollow eyes.

  I slid into the seat beside her.

  For a moment, neither of us spoke. Just watched the film play out - the girl on screen performing, smiling, pretending.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Mary turned to look at me, her usual golden irises meeting mine. The patterns within them shimmered faintly - beautiful, incomplete runes spiraling through the light.

  "Was my uncle responsible for the massacre?" she asked quietly. "And... are you alright?"

  My eyes still bled red from Charlotte's power.

  I met her gaze and lied.

  "Your uncle was forced to go along with it by the Inquisition. He tried his hardest not to."

  Relief flickered across her face - small, but genuine.

  "And I'm fine," I added. "As always."

  Mary held my gaze for a heartbeat longer, then turned back to the screen. Her expression smoothed into detachment again, distant and listless.

  "I enjoyed this movie," she said quietly, voice flat. "It was my mother's favorite."

  I watched the film, equally numb. The girl on screen kept performing. Kept smiling.

  "Is that your mother next to the Regent?" I asked quietly.

  Mary looked back slowly, listless. "Ah. When did my uncle get here?"

  I blinked. "He wasn't always there?"

  "No," she said softly. "But Mother's been there a long time. Ever since my eyes awakened." She turned to me. "Would you like to see how?"

  I hesitated. "Are you okay with it?"

  "I've already forgotten most of it," she said simply. "So it's fine."

  The film changed.

  The black-and-white shifted to color - muted, dreamlike. A child's perspective.

  A woman with auburn hair swept a little girl into her arms, spinning her through the air. The child laughed, golden hair streaming behind her, joy lighting up her face as the wind caught her mother's hair like wings.

  "My mother showered me with love for as long as I could remember," Mary narrated, voice soft and distant. "Always by my side. Always giving me time. Even when she was busy, she would attend to me with any spare time she had."

  I watched the scene unfold - pure, innocent, untainted.

  "She sounds like a good mom," I said quietly.

  "She was," Mary replied. "But she wasn't without her problems."

  The scene shifted.

  A door, slightly ajar. Through it, a woman hunched over a desk, hands clutching her head. Blood seeped from her scalp where she'd torn at her own hair, muffled sobs breaking the silence.

  "My mother hated my father," Mary said. "Though I had no idea why. He never paid me any heed either. So I always craved a father figure."

  The scene changed again - a warm memory. The Regent, younger, playing with Mary in a sunlit garden while her mother watched, smiling for the first time in the film.

  "My uncle would come often," Mary continued. "And Mother always seemed so relieved when he was around."

  The warmth faded.

  "Then one day, he disappeared. The Empire was reunifying the Valcarian Islands - I realise now he'd been sent to fight. I was sad he never said goodbye. But Mother seemed extremely stressed about something."

  She paused.

  "I thought it was because he wasn't there to keep me company. But he wasn't there to keep me company to begin with - he was there to protect us."

  The film shifted to imperial gardens - vast, beautiful, surrounded by high walls.

  A young Mary tugged at her mother's hand, laughing, pointing at flowers. Her mother smiled, tired but genuine, following her daughter through the pathways.

  "That day, I'd nagged to visit the gardens," Mary said. "Mother had kept me cooped up inside for so long. I finally convinced her."

  Her voice dropped.

  "Which was bad, because-"

  The scene erupted into violence.

  Mary's mother shoved the child backward, holding her at arm's length. Blood poured from her mouth. A knife protruded from her chest.

  Behind her stood a man in a black cloak, face hidden by a porcelain mask. His sword rose, gleaming in the sunlight.

  "I love you," Mary's mother whispered.

  The blade fell.

  "-she was killed in front of me that day."

  Her head separated cleanly, rolling across the grass as her body crumpled.

  Young Mary stood frozen, eyes wide. Guards shouted in the distance, sprinting toward them.

  Mary slowly looked toward her mother's decapitated head - brown eyes still open, reflecting the child standing before her.

  In the reflection, Mary's eyes glowed pure gold.

  The final frame showed: the assassin's head exploding on his shoulders, the body collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.

  "I was lucky my eyes had always been golden," Mary said quietly. "So no one knew. But after that day... being able to see everyone's lies and deceit... I realized what it really was."

  I watched in silence, stomach tight.

  "You had it tough," I said finally. "Very tough."

  "Yes," Mary agreed. "To this day, I still remember the day I forgot my mother's smell. But it wasn't all bad, after all... Mother's always been here."

  I looked back at Cassian and Mary's mother sitting side by side, watching the screen with saintly smiles, almost like dolls.

  "I'm sorry."

  "It's fine," she said. "At least I can cherish memories." Her gaze shifted to me. "You have none, do you not?"

  I nodded slowly.

  "Are you hollow because of it?" she asked, still listless.

  "It certainly doesn't help."

  "I see." She turned back to the screen. "After Mother's death, the immediate grief was slowly replaced by emptiness. That was, until my uncle appeared again a month later."

  The scene changed.

  The Regent burst into Mary's room, closing the door behind him. He moved slowly toward where Mary sat at her desk, head down, motionless.

  "Uncle?" she asked, voice numb.

  He didn't answer. Just pulled her into his arms, holding her tight.

  "The only indication my uncle was crying," Mary narrated, "was the wet sensation on my shoulder."

  When he pulled back, his face was dry. Composed. His eyes met hers - resolute, burning with quiet determination.

  "I love you," he said. "And you will never have to feel afraid again. You're safe."

  On screen, young Mary's expression cracked. She broke down, sobbing into his chest as he held her again, whispering that everything would be alright.

  "At that moment," Mary said, "it was the first time someone had not lied to me since awakening my abilities. I couldn't handle it."

  The film faded to black.

  "There's not much else to say after that," Mary continued. "That was the last eventful thing in my first ten years. Even the years from ten to sixteen... there's not much to speak of."

  She turned to me, a faint smile touching her lips.

  "Until I met you."

  I blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?"

  She turned back to the screen.

  "The night you met me in the mansion - the night both of us held a knife to each other's necks - you felt extreme fear, did you not?"

  "I wouldn't call it fear," I said carefully. "But I was alarmed. Your age meant you were unreliable."

  Mary smiled.

  "I felt utter joy."

  I stared at her.

  She continued, voice soft. "Because one, I now knew your biggest secret. And two, you'd decided from then on to be yourself around me."

  She sighed, almost wistful.

  "You were such a fresh breath of air. That day at the church, when you asked me for help-"

  "Yeah, I remember," I said. "You seemed pretty annoyed."

  Mary laughed - light, genuine. "I was so happy."

  I gave her a confused look.

  "Huh?"

  "Whenever we talked," she said, "I would feel so light. As though no stress existed. It was the closest thing to bliss I'd ever felt." She turned to me. "Imagine an existence where everyone just panders and lies to you. And finally finding someone who seems human for once."

  I smiled awkwardly. "I... I think I understand?"

  Mary laughed again. "Once we leave here, I'll return to my usual self. And I'll probably be extremely embarrassed by everything you've seen and heard."

  Then her expression turned serious.

  "But I'm serious when I say I want no secrets between us."

  I hesitated. "I'm sorry. For having to still hide things from you."

  "I understand. I'm pushing my standards onto you. It's hardly fair," she said. "But I'm sorry too. Because I've been acting a little."

  I frowned. "What do you mean?"

  She looked away, voice going numb again. "All my life, I've had to act. Whether it be as a noble, as a royal, as a niece or as a friend. I wear so many different masks. But in my alone time, I act like this. Detached. Listless. A bit numb to it all." She paused. "But when you're around... I feel happy. I want to talk more. Do more things. Just be happy around you."

  "Maybe you're just adapting," I said, staring at the screen in thought. "I do it too."

  She looked at me. "What do you mean?"

  "If I could be myself," I said slowly, "I'd curse at every inconvenience. Sleep at every opportunity. Be as brutally honest as humanly possible. The utter definition of crude." I smiled faintly. "But I don't. I put on an act."

  I met her eyes.

  "I don't mind if you want to continue being like that or just be your natural self. I can handle both."

  "Even though I'm uninteresting?" she asked quietly.

  "I find even bugs interesting," I said. "So I doubt you're uninteresting."

  "Even though I'm selfish?"

  "If you were selfish, you wouldn't be baptizing Outer Rim commoners in Saint Patrick's Cathedral."

  Mary's cheeks flushed slightly.

  "Even though I was so rude at the start?"

  "Don't worry," I said. "I'll pay it back eventually."

  Mary smiled.

  Then her expression went serious again.

  "Even though I'm a jealous woman?"

  I blinked. "What?"

  She looked at me with a straight face. "You have other friends, don't you?"

  I frowned, thinking. "I guess... one other one? Adrian."

  "I want to be your only friend," Mary said simply. "Since you're my only friend."

  "Make another friend."

  "I don't want another one."

  "I can't just stop being friends with Adrian."

  "Why not?"

  "Because it would be rude."

  "Then I'll tell him for you."

  "Please don't."

  "Why not?"

  I rubbed my eyebrows. "Never mind. There's no winning."

  Mary smiled - small, victorious.

  Then her expression softened.

  "I'm probably going to be a crybaby when we wake up," she said quietly. "Reliving all those memories, plus this... it's going to overwhelm me."

  "It's fine," I said.

  Silence stretched between us.

  Then Mary looked up, eyes watery.

  "Please don't abandon me."

  I looked at her, a bit surprised by the sudden emotion.

  Where'd this come from?

  I quickly donned a stern expression.

  "I won't. Trust me."

  Mary hugged me lightly, arms wrapping around my back.

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  The world began to dissolve at the edges, light bleeding through the theater walls.

  Then everything went black.

  ---

  I gasped, eyes snapping open.

  I was lying on the floor, cold stone beneath me. My chest felt wet - warm wetness soaking through my shirt.

  Mary was there, clinging to me, face buried in my chest. Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs. Her body shone with a light golden glow, and the room felt serene and calm now.

  Ah, is that why Cassian was there-

  Feeling her embrace me, I hesitated for only a heartbeat.

  Then I wrapped my arms around her, one hand stroking her hair gently.

  "There, there," I murmured.

  Mary's sobs broke into wails - raw, unrestrained, the grief of years finally given voice.

  I only looked at the ceiling, smiling faintly through tired eyes.

  -It's because she's ascended as well.

  I held her tighter.

  And let her cry.