Valiant: The Covenant Chronicles

[Covenant #20: The Covenant]

Log Date: 2/28/12764

Data Sources: Jayta Jaskolka, Raikaron Syntaritov

Event Log: Jayta Jaskolka

The House of Regret: Hall to the Study

5:51pm SGT

Every morning, I wake up at seven, and roll out of bed.

I get up and get dressed into my uniform - black pants and a buttoned and collared shirt, with gold trim and cufflinks. I put my hair in a bun, slip on my shoes, and put on the bracelets that my Lord gave me as rewards for my service. I grab my work coat and put it on, even though I know I’ll end up shrugging it off in a few hours. Then I go downstairs.

On the way to the kitchen, I usually see the harpies in the hall, and say hi to them as I pass them by. Once I reach the kitchen, I greet the kitchen staff while I’m picking up the tray that’s been put out for Mek. From there, I navigate back through the halls of the House to the library beneath it, and make my way through the labyrinth to deliver it to our librarian. If he’s asleep, I just leave the tray on one of his tables; if he’s awake, I may stay for a bit and chat with him before heading back.

When I leave the labyrinth, I head back up to the kitchen and grab my breakfast, taking it to the dining room, where I usually eat alongside the harpies that are awake that early in the morning. Even though Cinder has her food and water bowls in the corner of the kitchen, she’ll come to the dining room with me and rove about, looking for scraps under the table. There are usually plenty to be had, mostly on account of the harpies and how messy their eating tends to be.

After breakfast, I’ll take my tray back to the kitchen, and grab an apple before heading to the living room, where I exit through the back door into the backyard. I’ll cut across the dead grass on my way to the shed, grab the axe and the splitting wedge, and for the next four hours, I’ll split and stack firewoood out beside the shed.

By the time noon arrives, I usually have enough steam to keep going, but I take a break anyway because lunch is only available between twelve and one. I’ll head back inside, go to the kitchen and pick up my lunch, and depending on how cold it is outside or how hot I’m feeling, I’ll either eat it outside on the back porch, or I’ll eat it in the dining room. Sometimes I’ll see Danya during lunch break, though our conversation is usually kept to a minimum unless she’s got a task for me.

After lunch, I head back out to the shed to keep splitting logs — and that's what I do for the next four or five hours. I split logs until I hit my wall, and then I take a break to gather myself, and have another go at it. I usually have to throw in the towel around nightfall, because my splitting gets sloppy and I start mangling logs. Though I’ve made progress on the number of logs I’m splitting per day, I’m still stalling out around fifty, and struggling to get past that to the sixty I need to finish that part of my training.

So I’ll put away the axe and the wedge around the time the sky starts to dim, and go inside. Dinner is usually from five to sixty thirty, and depending on how I’m feeling, sometimes I’ll get dinner before I get my shower. Other times I want to get clean before I eat, so I’ll take my shower, then come downstairs and get dinner. I eat in the dining room along with the girls and Danya, and once I’m done, I’ll go get the tray that the kitchen has prepared for Lord Syntaritov, and take it up to her.

That’s what I’m doing now, heading down the hall leading to Raikaron’s study on the upper floors. Today, I got my shower before getting dinner, so I’m all fresh and cleaned up. After months of taking Raikaron’s dinner up to the study, I’ve got the tray effortlessly balanced on the fingertips of one hand while I use the other one to knock on her door. “Your dinner, my Lord.” I call through the door.

There’s no response, but the door unlocks and swings open. Within, Raikaron is standing behind her desk, examining a folder; stepping inside, I close the door behind me, crossing the study to the desk at the far end.

“How are you doing this evening, my Lord?” I ask, carefully setting the tray down on her desk. I made the mistake of setting it on the side table only a couple times before, and found that it would usually be forgotten there. Raikaron needed a reminder the food was there — literally sitting in the middle of her desk — otherwise she’d get so wrapped up in work that she’d forget about it, and consequently, forget to eat.

“Second verse, same as the first.” she replies, glancing to the side as I set the tray down. “There’s been an uptick in damned souls arriving to Sjelefengsel; I was just taking a look at the ones that have been assigned to my jurisdiction.”

“Are any going to be working in the House?” I ask, taking a step back from the desk.

“Unlikely. I keep the House staffed with contract demons, not damned souls. The only reason Harro and Mek reside here is because they were personal assignments handed down to me by Lust.” she answers, going back to thumbing through the roster. “Most of these are small-time offenders; they’ll be doing a few decades, then they’ll be able to apply for reincarnation or dissolution.”

“That’s good, I suppose.” I remark. “At least you won’t have to worry about dealing with serial killers or war criminals.”

“Make no mistake; we do have some exceptional cases in this batch.” Raikaron says, flipping over to another page. “There’s a recent arrival by the name of Anselm Grimes; he’s quite a piece of work. Had a nasty habit of kidnapping people, extracting their souls, and selling them for profit on the arcane black market. A terribly unforgivable sin, since souls sold on the black market usually end up destroyed by the spells that they’re eventually used in. Made quite a tidy little business out of it; absolutely unrepentant. I think I may meet with Greed soon and see if he would like to exchange him for one of the damned souls in the batch he was assigned.”

“Souls… can be destroyed?” I ask, somewhat unsettled by this new information.

“Well, rarely in the sense of obliteration.” Raikaron says, folding the manifest shut and setting it on her desk. “But in the sense that a soul can be converted into energy, into fuel, thereby erasing the information it held, or reducing it to its constituent parts — yes, a soul can be destroyed in that sense. Like burning a book, if you will. Setting it alight will release stored energy and convert it into ash; the information contained on the pages will be lost. For obvious reasons, stealing a soul and using it as fuel for magic tends to be a rather universal sin.”

“Yeah, no joke.” I murmur. “Doesn’t Sjelefengsel get its power from damned souls, though? What if it runs out of souls?”

“There’s a difference between burning up a soul for fuel and imprisoning it. Sjelefengsel does the latter.” Raikaron explains, beginning to organize the papers on her desk so there’s more room for the dinner tray. “Destroying a soul produces a very sharp spike of power in a very short period of time, like a bomb going off. By contrast, imprisoning a soul and harnessing the energy it passively generates is like getting heat off a bed of coals. They’ll simmer at a low temperature for a long time before going out, and ultimately produce more energy over the long run than destroying the soul outright. For obvious reasons, Sjelefengsel utilizes the latter approach.”

“Makes sense.” I agree, watching as she organizes her desk. “I… also wanted to ask you something, if you don’t mind.”

That catches her attention, and she glances up at me. “Go on.”

“I was wondering if I could have my dinner and lunch brought out to me while I’m splitting wood tomorrow.” I ask, bouncing nervously on my toes. “I’m going to make an early start of it, and work late. Going to see if I can grind through all day and hit sixty logs by the end.”

Raikaron’s mouth curls at the corners in faint bemusement. “You thought you needed to ask my permission for that? You are a demon of the Sixth Circle, Jayta. Simply give the order to the kitchen and they will do it.”

“Oh. Really?” I ask, surprised. “I thought something like that would have to come from you or Danya.”

“You rank above the demons in the kitchen, and your station as this House’s avenger gives you the authority needed to make such demands. They will comply.” Raikaron says, reaching over to lift the lid off the tray and study the tray’s contents. “There are also lanterns in the shed, if you intend on starting early and working late. They will provide the light you need before dawn and after nightfall.”

“Oh. Alright then.” I say, somewhat surprised by how easy that was. “Well, uhm. Thank you. That’s all I wanted to ask. I’ll let you be now.”

“By all means. I imagine you’ll need a good night’s sleep before you embark on your marathon tomorrow.” she says, picking up her parfait glass and holding it out to me. “Here. You ought to have something sweet before bed; sweet treats before sleep are a recipe for sweet dreams, as Miqo would say.”

“Oh. Thank you.” I say, reaching out to take the parfait. “Who’s Miqo?”

“A family member of mine, from the Dreaming. You may have the chance to meet her in the future.” Raikaron explains. “As I presume I won’t see you until tomorrow, sleep tight and don’t let the nightmares bite, Jayta.”

I smile, cupping the parfait to my chest. “You as well, my Lord.” With that, I turn and head for the door, trying to mask the skip in my step.

I’ll admit, sometimes it’s nice to get a little extra attention from a demon Lord.

Event Log: Raikaron Syntaritov

The House of Regret: Raikaron’s Study

10:51pm SGT

“…and we also received notification of a compliance audit being scheduled in three months’ time.” Danya concludes, lowering her phone. “I think Spite may have made a complaint to trigger the audit. Our last one was just three years ago.”

“He can make all the complaints he wants. It won’t get him his arm back.” I say, flicking another envelope into the fireplace. “At least we have advance notice. It gives us time to clean up the books so it can go as smoothly as possible.”

“An unnecessary distraction as we are moving into the spring season.” Danya mutters. “At any rate, that concludes my report. Is there anything you require from me before I retire for the night, my Lord?”

I don’t answer immediately, allowing myself a moment to search my thoughts before going on. “A refresh of my memory, if you would. Do you recall when I elicited to spare Gossamer and her Challenger squad during one of my visits to the mortal plane? How long ago was that?”

Danya raises her eyebrows. “Insofar as I am aware, you have never shared this with me.”

“Did I never?” I ask, perplexed. “Strange. I wonder what made me keep it to myself.”

“I cannot begin to guess.” Danya says. “I will hazard a guess and speculate that you showed her mercy in exchange for a favor later on down the line?”

“Yes. The Challenger program sent a squad to destroy a book containing gate permissions for nearly every one of Sjelefengsel’s Lords. A classic compendium, the sort of thing that some batbrained sorcerer would use to unleash a ‘hell on earth’ scenario. Lucifer likes to keep a few copies on the mortal plane just to keep things interesting, you see.” I explain.

“I see.” Danya remarks drily. “And you were dispatched to defend it?”

“More or less. I made short work of the squad, but I recognize an opportunity when I see one.” I say, flicking another envelope into the fire. “We came to an arrangement. I would spare the lives of her and her squad, and allow them to collapse the temple to claim they had completed their mission, even though the book remained intact, allowing me to fulfill my own mandate. In return, she would owe me a favor to be called in at my discretion, at a later date.”

“And what brings this to mind now?” Danya asks.

“The resurgent Challengers have quite handily trounced CURSE, of which Gossamer is now a part.” I explain. “They are, so to speak, ‘back on the scene’, and it is looking increasingly likely that a new organization will be arising out of the ashes of the old one. More confrontations with CURSE appear to be in the cards, and confrontations, as you know, have a way of producing bodies.”

“You are looking to cash in that favor before Gossamer becomes one of those bodies, I presume.” Danya infers.

“It would be a shame if I gave her a get-out-of-jail-free card, but never called in the debt that was owed for it.” I concur. “The problem is finding a use for her. She has to be good for something, but I cannot for the life of me figure out what.”

“My understanding is that she is a competent assassin; is there anyone on the mortal plane who you would like to see fast-tracked to the afterlife?” Danya suggests.

“None at the moment. I have not had many entanglements on the mortal realm in a few centuries.” I say, thoughtfully tapping the final envelope I have in hand. “Besides, I was hoping for a more creative use of her skillset. Sending her to kill someone just seems so… bland. Pedestrian.”

“Kept from hired murder only because it’s an affront to good taste, I see.” Danya remarks wrily. “Well, I am sure you will find a use for her. Having one of CURSE’s Peacekeepers under your thumb has to be good for something. It’s simply a matter of figuring out what.”

“Indeed. Perhaps an opportunity will present itself in time.” I say, flicking the last envelope into the fire, then turning to consider the view of the Hautaholvi skyline through the glass wall at the back of the study. Yellow city lights, glowing in the darkness of Sjelefengsel’s night. “I think she has finally acclimated, Danya.”

Danya follows my gaze to the window. “I have found myself moving towards that assessment as well. The nature of her complaints over the past month have become less strident, focusing more on the process rather than the substance.” She glances my way. “I must commend you on managing to break her, my Lord.”

I allow myself a faint smile. “You make it sound so… sinister.”

“We are demons. It does no good to deceive ourselves about the nature of our work.”

“Our work need not be a matter of malice alone.” I say, leaving the fireplace and walking back to my desk so I can settle into the chair. “I shape and mold souls into something more than what they were before. There is nothing inherently evil in that.”

“Perhaps not, but it would be difficult to ignore the fact that this little adventure began with an incitement to murder.” Danya points out. “Even I struggle to spin that as anything other than the willful instigation of another’s worst impulses for no other reason than the sake of it.”

I lean back in my chair, mulling my counterpoint. “My ancestor would say that there are some destinations that can only be reached by the shadowed paths. Some lessons that can only be learned by treading the dark roads.”

“In effect, that the destination justifies the journey.” Danya infers drily.

I open my mouth, then pause, consider what is being discussed, and smile. “…perhaps you are right. I will not defend it. Evil in the service of the grand design is still evil, I suppose.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You mean to imply that you envision a net positive outcome at the end of all this?”

“It is the way of the Syntaritovs.” I shrug, lacing my fingers together. “Heroes are not forged in peace and ease. They are forged in chaos and conflict. By rising above and overcoming.”

“Creating evil for the sake of forcing good to rise up against it?” Danya says. “What is Jayta, then? Is she the evil you’ve created, or the good that’s supposed to rise up against it?”

“A good question.” I say, leaning forward and resting my arms on my desk. “That’s up to her.”

Danya shakes her head. “Service to you comes with many benefits, but moral clarity is not one of them. You intend to warp that girl’s mind beyond recognition, don’t you?”

I reach up, taking my glasses off and folding them up. “Try as we might, Danya, the universe is not black and white. I will give her the tools she needs to see the universe in its richest hues. What she chooses to do with them will be up to her.”

“You may want to be careful with that. She may end up seeing more than you want her to see.” Danya warns, checking her phone again. “At any rate, I must excuse myself. If I do not start winding down for bed, I believe I will find myself quite irritable tomorrow.”

“Naturally. Apologies for keeping you.” I say, leaning back in my chair once more. “Have a good night, Danya.”

“Good night, my Lord.” she offers even as she’s already started towards the door. Only when she’s left and closed the door behind her do I swivel my chair around, turning it to face the glass wall behind me. The view over the House’s grounds, and the darkened valley beyond that holds Hautaholvi’s gleaming lights.

I’ve always found it hard to explain to others the rich satisfaction that comes from creating monsters, and heroes to defeat them.

Event Log: Jayta Jaskolka

The House of Regret: Backyard

3/1/12764 8:19pm SGT

I woke up bright and early in the morning, and go to work.

I set my phone’s alarm to go off at six a.m., and even though being awoken at that hour was ungodly, I got up anyway. On any other day I would’ve gone right the hell back to bed, but I reminded myself that today was the day.

Today was the day I was going to split sixty logs and get back my right to use as much hot water as I wanted.

I got dressed, picking up speed as I went, and was downstairs in fifteen minutes. After getting an everything bagel from the head cook, hot and fresh, I gave her orders to have my lunch and dinner brought to me so I wouldn’t have to come back inside during the day. I’d been expecting pushback from her, but it never came, so I took that to mean that my orders carried the same weight that Danya’s did.

The sky was still dark when I headed outside; the first inklings of dawn were visible on the horizon, but I could still see the pinpoints of red in the night sky. Heading to the shed, I tracked down the lanterns and ignited one of them, grabbing the axe and wedge while I was in there. Coming back out to the chopping round and the pile of logs beside the shed, I hung the lantern on a hook on the wall, then grabbed the first log and put it on the round.

And without further ado, I got to work.

It was slow going at first, but once I got into my rhythm, the hours started to slip by. The sky got brighter until I no longer needed the lantern, but I didn’t want to break my rhythm, so I left it burning as I kept splitting log after log. Ten logs passed by, and then twenty, and then thirty, though by that point I was starting to lose steam. I took a break, long enough to put out the lantern and eat an apple I’d been saving, then I got back to it.

Somewhere around the thirty-second log, I found myself interrupted by one of the kitchen staff bringing me lunch. It was just as well, because I was starting to run up against my wall by that point, so I took another break. This time I didn’t rush through the meal, because I knew I’d have to give the food time to settle and start to process. My body was also starting to develop that all-over fatigue that I knew too well, and I knew that after that point, I would start hitting my walls sooner and sooner. It was now a race against my endurance to crank out the other twenty-eight logs.

Once I was done with lunch, I got back to it, working more deliberately and slowly. There was still plenty of daylight left, and I didn’t want to bungle any logs by trying to rush it. Time seemed to move slower than it did in the morning; the pile of split logs grew and grew, but I noticed I was taking more time between each swing. Catching my breath, working up the strength to lift the axe and bring it down again.

The afternoon grinded by in this manner, with my breaks starting to come more frequently as the sky slid towards evening. By the time dinner was brought out, I was up to fifty-three logs, which was my personal best, but it was still seven short, and I was struggling. I’d been hoping that dinner would give me that burst I needed to push through, but I only got halfway through the tray that had been brought out to me, and I realized at that point that it wasn’t a matter of calories or nutrition. I was tired, and what my body needed was rest, not food.

But I had to push through, because I couldn’t stop when I was so close. So once I’d eaten all I could, I got back up and lit the lantern, then grabbed the axe and went back to work. The impact from every swing felt like it was shaking my entire body, and it was a struggle to lift the axe up high enough to bring it down every time. I started botching and missing swings, but I couldn’t give up. Not now, not when I was so close. I had to finish this today, because there’d be no way I could do this again tomorrow. I’m not sure I’d even be able to manage a normal day of woodsplitting tomorrow, with how hard I’d pushed myself today. If I didn’t finish this today, I wouldn’t do great tomorrow, which meant that I’d get even less hot water tomorrow.

So I had to end this today.

I pushed and I pushed and I pushed, pulling out every trick in the book that I had. When I felt myself losing steam, I’d force myself to think about my ex, and that would get me riled up and angry; a short burst of energy that would keep me going. And when that ran out, I moved onto Harro, and the hate that I still felt at his betrayal. And again for Raikaron, for all that he manipulated me into; and again for Danya, and her uptight love of rules and formalities. And when I’d exhausted my anger for all of those, I went even further back, summoning my fury over the special treatment my brother had always gotten that he’d been so clueless about, and how I had suffered as a result.

But even anger had its limits, and when that last spurt of fury burned out, I was still short two logs.

Which brings me to the here and now, knelt in front of the splitting round, with the fifty-ninth log sitting on it, an ugly notch in its rim. It’s dark now; night has arrived and the red stars are out. My last swing landed badly; the axe twisted in my grip, wrenching my wrist in one direction. I’m now holding that wrist, waiting for the soreness to go away, but I’m exhausted. Even if I manage to pick the axe back up, I don’t know if I’ll be able to lift it for the swing. Even if I do, I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it for the next ten or twenty swings that will be needed to split another two logs.

I can’t give up now; I can’t go back inside until I finish this.

But I don’t think I have the strength to finish it.

My eyes start to tear up as I begin to realize that I might not be able to do this, despite all the effort I put into making it happen. I sniffle angrily, shaking my head and wiping at my eyes; I refuse to break down and cry like a child throwing a fit, even though I want to really badly. Yes, this whole thing was unfair, and yes, it sucked, but this was hell and nobody gave a shit about what was fair or not. Crying about it wouldn’t fix anything.

Taking a deep breath, I grit my teeth, and force myself to start struggling to my feet past the protests of my exhausted body, reaching for the axe.

But it’s not there when my hand goes to close around it, and I glance to the side. The grass where I’d dropped it is empty, but there are set of black, shined shoes on the edge of my vision. Looking up, I can see the familiar slacks, the black vest and the crimson tie, the rimless glasses and the toxic green eyes. As I watch, Raikaron finishes unbuttoning the cuffs of her sleeves, rolling them back to the elbows. Then she grabs the axe, which was leaning against her hip, and swings it up and over, splitting the log with a single strike.

I watch, wordless, as she sets the halves of the log back up, and splits those as well. Then she grabs another log from the pile, proceeding to split and quarter that one as well, all with efficient, precise chops. Once those have been split, she stacks the quarters on the pile of firewood, leans the axe against it, and turns to hold a hand out to me. “You are done.” she states simply.

“Done?” I repeat, confused.

“Your task is completed. You met your quota. Sixty logs in one day.” she explains, her hand still outstretched.

“But I only did fifty-eight.” I point out, still confused.

“And I did the other two. That makes sixty in total.” she says. “Do you remember what I told you the last time we were in my garden?”

All I can do is stare at her. I’m blanking hard, mostly because I’m exhausted, but also because we talked about a lot of things last time I was in Raikaron’s garden. Eventually I have to shake my head, admitting that I don’t recall.

“I told you that I wasn’t asking you to succeed. I was just asking you to try.” she reminds me. “And if you tried your hardest and kept trying, that would be enough for me.”

“Oh… oh yeah, I do remember that.” I mumble as that part of the conversation comes back to me. I reach up, taking the hand she’s got held out to me.

“This is our covenant, writ in the contract that you signed.” Raikaron says as she pulls me to my feet and helps steady me. “If you will try your hardest when I ask something of you, and do your best, then I will meet you in the middle and fill in the rest whenever you fall short. You have held up your end, so now I will hold up mine.”

“I’m… done, then?” I ask, swaying a little on my feet. “I don’t have to split wood anymore?”

“You are done. Your quota has been met.” Raikaron confirms. “I told Danya to draw a hot bath for you. It’s waiting for you now up in your bathroom, and after today there will be no more restrictions on your hot water.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, tilting forward to rest my head against her shoulder. “Thank you.” I exhale, closing my eyes.

“Don’t thank me yet. You will have two days to rest, then you will resume your combat training with Aritska now that you have completed your endurance training.” she says, letting me rest a moment before offering her arm to me. “Let’s get you inside. I doubt you enjoy the cold any more than I do.”

“Wait, the things… my tray. The lantern. Needs to be put away.” I mumble, turning back towards everything that’s been left out.

“I will have other servants take care of it.” she says, catching my shoulder before I can turn away. “You have worked enough today. Now you must rest.” With that, she offers her arm out again.

After a moment, I take it, leaning on it and on her as we start to walk back towards the House. “Thank you for helping me.” I say quietly.

“It is our covenant. So long as you are loyal to your Lord, I am obligated to reciprocate that loyalty.” she replies. “Now let’s get you inside, little demon. Your skin’s cold as ice and you could do with a warm bath.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Event Log: Jayta Jaskolka

The House of Regret: Jayta’s Balcony

3/3/12764 9:21am SGT

I am a servant of the Lord of Regret.

Six months ago, I would’ve said those words with resentment. With anger, and spite, and grievance. But now, I say them calmly, like discussing the weather, or remarking on breakfast. Once, those words would’ve brought me to tears; once, they would’ve been my mark of shame and my punishment, all in one.

But now, they’re just my job.

I am a contract demon of the Sixth Circle of Sjelefengsel. I am not damned as such, though the actions that led me here may as well be grounds for damnation. I may not be as monstrous as those who are condemned to this place, but I am not sinless by any stretch of the imagination. And in my defense, I will still insist that if I had not been manipulated and enticed into doing what I did, I would not be here today.

But we cannot change the past, so it matters little.

I am an avenger of the House of Regret, and I act at the behest of my Lord. To herald her arrival, to assist her in all things, to punish the damned and the unrepentant alike. It is not something we do for our own benefit or amusement, but because we live in an unfair universe, and we are part of a system of justice that does its best to balance the inherent inequities brought to us by the gift of free will. It is our responsibility, and our privilege, to work side by side with heaven as we bring fairness to a universe that lacks it.

Though I may be enslaved to the will of my Lord, she permits me freedom and power within it. Though the chains of my contract bind me to her, I have risen above the wretched station I had on the mortal plane. No longer am I a poor, desperate college student with a dream infinitely delayed. I am a captain in hell now, with power and authority to command others, as I was once commanded while working two jobs, trying to scrape by.

I still do wish that things that gone differently. That I had made different choices. That I had not ended up here.

But we cannot change the past. And besides, there are worse ways to end up in hell.

Down below, I can hear the doors of the House open, and the click of heels as Danya escorts Raikaron out onto the path winding through the front yard. Trinity is close behind them, each one dressed in white, fur-lined cloaks, shuffling along behind Raikaron, who has a dark greatcoat with an upturned collar draped about her shoulders. Danya turns around, hitching her hands on her hips, then looks up and catches sight of me on the balcony.

“There you are.” she says with her trademark disapproval. “Well, stop lazing around. It’s a long drive to Hautaholvi and we want to get there before lunch.”

I set Cinder down on the balcony, then grab the railing and vault over it, my wings flaring out from my back briefly to slow my descent to the ground. They melt back into my duster as I land, standing up and straightening out my pants and my shirt. “What are we doing in Hautaholvi?” I ask, skipping a bit to catch up to them.

“We will be having lunch with the Lord of Greed.” Danya explains as we turn and start down the path. A limo is waiting for us at the front gate of the property. “Lord Syntaritov believes she can trust your behavior now in the presence of other Lords, so try not to let her down.”

“Really?” I ask, glancing to Raikaron.

Raikaron merely smiles, and continues walking towards the front gate.

“Yes. And put away that smile, you look far too pleased with yourself.” Danya orders to me as we walk between the budding trees lining the path. “Trinity, come along! You’re falling behind. There will be no wandering off today. If you behave, we may visit the Forbidden Fruit after the meeting with Greed and get something sweet for the ride home…”

Falling in step behind the others, I tuck my hands in my pockets, listening while Danya lectures Trinity, with the harpies chirping their prophetic replies now and again. Halfway down the path, I glance over my shoulder at the House, sizing up how it’s framed against the mountains in the background. I never thought it would feel like home, yet looking it now… it’s comforting to know I’ll be returning to it later.

“Jayta, come along. The House isn’t going anywhere; you can admire it later. It’s bad form to be late to a lunch with one of the Greater Lords.”

“Yes, yes. I’m coming.”