Two of the Wanesguard greeted them at the front gate. Caravan after caravan drove past them, eyes of green, silver and blue glittering through the sheer fabric that adorned the windows. Abby made it a point to avoid direct or accidental eye contact.

It made her nervous standing in front of a castle, where, at any time, a single guard could stick a sword through her neck like she was a human kabob. Instead, her gaze wandered from Sebbi to Lucy. How must they feel? This was their home, taken from them when they were kittens, or whatever the Aelurian equivalent of a kitten was.

This place should have held thousands of memories for them, but instead, stood empty and unfamiliar. Like a picture frame that housed no photograph, just a bunch of what ifs and what could have beens. Abby gulped, feeling guilty. At least she had pictures, or did before the fire. Dozens of them of her mom, her dad, a younger and still just as wrinkled Mimi. Sebbi and Lucy had none of that.

"What of your blood?" A husky voice spoke, breaking Abby from her train of thought. She looked up and found a very human pair of brown eyes glowering at her. The man's skin was dark, almost blending into the stone he stood sentinel in front of. He held a sword at the ready, one of those cruelly carved Wanesguard blades.  Abby shied away and looked toward Margo with a pleading, "help me, I don't know what to say," look.

Margo smiled and answered the guard calmly, coolly, rehearsed words falling from her lips without missing a beat. "Half-moon," she said and gave a little curtsey. "Relative of Corcious and Lattrilark, Lun'ren and Lun'essra of Kraag."

Abby blinked. Those had sounded like a bunch of imaginary words to her, but the guard seemed mollified by them and stepped aside. Margo gave him a nod, before she ushered them through the impressive black stone gate and into Darkmoore Castle.

Through a thick tangle of squirming vines, and a smaller, inner gate, Abby found herself at the edge of a garden unlike any she'd ever seen before. Tons of the night sky trees grew here, their canopies clumped together, creating one never-ending night sky. Tiny bugs flitted from leaf to leaf, their pulsing red bellies reminding her of the goldenflies from home. A waterfall cascaded into a crystalline basin, where benches littered with plush-looking pillows sat on either side. The water reflected the stars overhead, the Blood Moon. Lanterns hovered mid-air, hundreds of them, causing the shadows to shrink back and stay near the walls. Abby's slippers made those familiar clicks across the gold-flecked stone pathway,  a sound that helped ease her thumping heart.

Human men and women flitted from one section of the garden to another,   extravagant dresses and suit jackets billowing out around their large, fur-less frames. They laughed and smiled, and it was as if all their jagged, sharp Aelurian edges had been ground down and smoothed.

The path meandered its way to the castle's main door - an arched monstrosity of black stone that crawled with purple brambles and some kind of black flower. It peeled back slowly, revealing a party of a different sort. Abby grabbed the hem of her dress, inhaled, exhaled deeply, and then, straightening her shoulders, crossed the threshold and entered, her two cats at her side.

Once inside, Margo gathered them into a nearby corner. Music wafted through the halls, which were lit by hundreds of candles. Most of the guests moved past them, having no trouble balancing without their tails, and headed into the main hall at their right.

"Remember," Margo began, her voice a low whisper. "Half-moon. If I know Aelurians," she grimaced, "and unfortunately, I do, they will ask about your blood. Tell them that and nothing more. Keep the conversation light."

She straightened Lucy's jacket and ran her hands down his arms. "If you see someone die, ignore it. It's not an Aelurian gathering if there's not at least one bloodline that gets extinguished."

Margo's words were important, Abby knew this. In a lot of ways, they were her lifeline in this strange world, but Abby couldn't tear her eyes away from the ballroom long enough to concentrate on them. The ballroom was huge, a cavern of polished black stone, outfitted in luxurious crimson drapes. Long tables sat at the furthest end of the room, covered in black silk and fashioned with some sort of strange gold ornamentation. Abby squinted. Moons. The tables were strewn with golden moons each depicting a different one of its' phases. A full moon, the gold hewn with veins of scarlet, sat in the center of the table, in front of an absurdly high-backed chair. This must have been where the King would sit once the feast commenced.

Faintly, Abby remembered her own party. It lacked most of this ball's opulence and all of its dark, foreboding atmosphere, but some things were still the same. The faked smiles, forced conversations, and most importantly the food, abundant and lavish and piled high. She gulped, remembering her dad's laughter, the way he awkwardly ran his hand through his hair whenever one of the Trades Councilmen had approached him. His heady breath, warm and tinted with whiskey as he kissed Abby on the forehead. She'd hated her party then- did she still hate it now? After everything?

Abby shook her head. No, that party was a memory now, precious and fragile.

"--ove?"

Someone's trying to speak to me, Abby thought, blinking away her tears. I should. I should--

Smoke. Flames. Mrs. Seiver's dirt-covered hands. The woman's crowmen standing watch over her small, patchy herb garden. Mimi. The closest thing Abby had to a mother. The woman's voice - stern and chiding. Strict yet warm. The late afternoon teas during the high months. The embraces. The woman's warmth, Abby's father's warmth--

"Love?" A hand grabbed Abby's shoulder, the touch warm, real.

She snapped out of her memories and turned. Lucy stood in front of her, a look of worry wrinkling his face. "Love," he said. His hand moved from her shoulder to her cheek. Gently, he wiped at a tear. "You're crying."

His words, though hushed, sparked the others to turn toward them. Abby hadn't realized she'd been crying. She'd thought she'd squashed those feelings deep enough inside her that they wouldn't rise, but she hadn't. Abby smiled at Lucy, at his worried face, and wiped her face.

"I'm sorry. My thoughts got away from me."

Lucy nodded and grabbed a lock of her hair. "It's okay. You don't need to cry, you're dressed beautifully. I'm sure you'll fit right in." He gave her a wink that told Abby he understood. He wouldn't dig. It wasn't his place.

Abby winked him a thank you.

Oblivious, Margo bounded over toward them, a fragile smile on her face, and said, "You ready?"

Abby nodded as she used the sleeve of her dress to blot at her tear-stained cheeks.

Margo nodded and placed her hand on Abby's. "It'll be fine," she said, and then, she turned and slipped into the crowd that was rushing toward them from the corridor. Margo disappeared in a sea of turquoise and violet-clad men and women that swooshed past her chatting away.

She was to slip into the dungeon. Retrieve Lain. Abby and Lucy and Sebbi were here in case...well, there was no in case. As Margo had explained, she just wanted the three of them nearby. It was safer for them somehow, Margo had said, inside the castle than outside. Though Abby imagined that wasn't true. She imagined it was just as dangerous outside the castle walls as it was inside.

Lucy placed a hand on the small of Abby's back. "We should mingle," he said nonchalantly in her ear, "If we're to mix in."

Abby agreed. Sebbi stood reluctantly in the corner, wishing he could remain there, arms folded over his chest, avoiding the whole ordeal. And that, in its own way, was pretty inconspicuous considering Abby saw others doing the same. Sebbi reminded Abby of the Brjyhilds from her party. Standing tall as trees and rigid as stone watching everyone else around them enjoyed themselves.

Lucy stuck out his arm for Abby. She smiled and hooked her arm through his and allowed herself to be led into the great room. Almost immediately, she was engulfed in a gyrating sea of blues, greens, and purples, suffocatingly sweet scents wafting off hair plaited down women's backs. Music pounded in her head. She felt as though she was being pulled into their current and dragged into the deep. Along the far end of the room, a long table stood piled high with all sorts of delicacies. Some were things she knew. Meats. There were tons of piled high trays of salted, cured, and smoked meats - shredded, grilled, or charred. Abby's mouth watered. Next, to the familiar meats, Abby saw gold trays filled with strange fruits and custards. Jugs similar to the two of scrub Margo had bought from the tavern had their own table and swells of people gathered here to eat or drink.

And for the first time in Abby's life, she was not hungry. Her stomach did not rumble, pleading with her to fill it to its fullest capacity. Instead, she stared at the food, blankly, and felt nothing. It was stranger than the six-pointed purplish fruit she saw a woman cutting into thin slices and fanning across a golden plate.

"Pretty boring spread, if you ask me," a voice growled into Abby's ear. Abby whipped around to see a young man addressing her. His golden hair sparkled under the hundreds of lantern fruit hanging from the ceiling.

She smiled politely and nodded. As she turned to move away, the man grabbed her wrist. "I meant no offense," he said, giving her a toothy grin of perfectly white, and perfectly flat teeth.

Abby wondered what this man looked like in his true form. Was he seven feet or ten? What color was his fur and how much did he dislike her kind? What had Margo called her? A hemma. That's what Abby was. A hemma. Something the Aelurian people seemed to despise.

The man's smile fell from his face the more Abby maintained silent. But then, he released her and started scratching the back of his head. Abby could see in his green eyes he was searching for the right words. Abby swallowed and forced a smile.

It's just like all the other parties, Abby thought. Smile. Make small talk. Be polite.

"You didn't offend," Abby started. The man beamed at hearing her speak. Abby continued. "I just thought the spread wasn't so bad. I do like a good bit of meat and there's a ton there."

The man laughed and extended his hand. Abby took it. "I'm Rawlo," he said. "Of Harvest blood." He looked at Abby expectantly. She shook his hand and was quick to escape his touch. It was a strange feeling touching someone whose skin was as smooth as marble but who Abby knew was covered in thick fur.

"I'm Abbernathy," she said, grimacing. This had been the first time she'd willingly said her own name. She thought of Apothecary immediately. And how Abbernathy wasn't much of a name at all. But then she thought of her mother who gave her her name and her father who'd told her she'd grow to like it. Both were dead now.

Rawlo looked at her strangely, cocking his head slightly to the left. Blond bangs fell in front of his face, making him look soft. If she hadn't known any better, he'd look no older than Crum though with a much better personality but far worse hair.

Abby cleared her throat. "Of half-moon blood," she added hoping Rawlo didn't find her behavior strange enough to alert the Wanesguard. Two stood on either side of the food table, swords at their sides, watching as the party preceded. Abby gulped but held her smile.

"You have a strange name," he said. Abby frowned. Abbernathy wasn't just strange, it was awful. Rawlo seemed to have thought he'd offended Abby because immediately his continued, "But beautiful. Strange but beautiful."

Abby looked at him wide-eyed. He shifted uncomfortably in the leather shoes he was wearing, his hand scratching furiously at the back of his head. Tiny flecks of dandruff dotted his navy jacket.

"Thank you," Abby said. She couldn't think of anything else to say. An Aelurian stood before her disguised as a human, telling her he thought her terrible name was beautiful. This day had a lot of strange in it but this may have taken the cake.

Rawlo looked relieved at her. His smile grew. The music changed. The soft jovial beats of before were replaced with the soothing low tones of an instrument Abby'd never heard before. The song sounded beautiful and sad.

"Care to dance?" Rawlo said, his hand extended once again to her. It was Abby's turn to shift uncomfortably in her shoes. She grabbed the hem of her dress and twisted.

"Afraid she's spoken for," Lucy said, striding up to Abby. He left three women in his wake, each glaring at Abby as though she'd committed some unforgivable crime. Lucy took her hand in his and smiled apathetically at Rawlo. "Sorry," he said smiling.

Rawlo nodded though his face couldn't conceal his disappointment. He turned away and disappeared into the crowd. Abby sighed. "Thanks, Lucy," she said. "Don't know what I was going to do there." She furrowed her brows. "Dance with him I guess."

Lucy tugged her arm and Abby fell forward. "If you're dancing with anyone, it's me." Grinning from ear to ear, Lucy dragged Abby into a clear spot on the ground. Clasping her hand in his, he grabbed her and they began to sway. Abby turned red.

"We're not even doing it right," she hissed, noting the couples beside them going in the opposite direction every time they stepped. Lucy laughed.

"Who cares," he said, twirling Abby about. "We want to dance, we dance."

The eyes of the three women Lucy had left in his wake glared at Abby so hard she thought for sure they would burn holes in her dress. Sebbi stood against the back wall, in a spot that wasn't so brightly lit by lantern fruit. His arms were still crossed firmly across his chest, his eyes watching every single guest. His eyes landed on Abby and immediately he turned away, the tips of his ears going red.

The music died down to the applause of the crowd. Anxious eyes bobbed back and forth over the room waiting for the next song to began. But no song began. Instead, the double doors at the far end of the room opened up. Two Wanesguard in polished armor stepped through the door followed by an Aelurian as tall as Lucy and Sebbi had been, if not a few heads taller. He was dressed head to toe in a fine white suit, his hair just as white, like freshly fallen snow, pulled back and away from his square face. He regarded everyone in the room with his emerald eyes, an icy smile parting his thin lips. On the breast of his jacket, a symbol like the ones on the Wanesguards' guards armor was stitched, a deep crimson full moon. Abby gulped.

"Your Highness, King Nocturnis Dinn' Aelurus," one of the Wanesguard shouted. The guests remained frozen to their spots and Abby knew why. Behind the king stood an imposing man built like one of Laos' walls. He wore red platemail, instead of the jackets and trousers the other Aelurian guests had chosen to wear over their hemma forms. He held a horned helm under his arm. Black hair, long and tied back, ran d his lips snarling out at the crowd. He carried an ax in his right hand, black as his fur. Abby clenched Lucy's hand.

"Who's that?" she whispered.

Lucy remained silent. Abby turned up to see Lucy standing there, his face in agony.

"Lucy?" she asked panicked. Abby saw that Sebbi wore the same expression. "What's going on?" She tugged on Lucy's jacket.

"That creature," he said through gritted teeth. "That creature." His breaths were frantic.

A woman to their left leaned toward them. "F'hang," she hissed, her eyes glued to the cat-man. "He gives us all the chills."

Abbernathy Fun Fact 9: Crum was a bastard in the original. In it, he threw Sebbi against Simon Ogretree, causing Sebbi from there on out to walk with a limp. It'd also been the reason why Sebbi and Abby reconciled. I have plans for Crum, so I didn't want to make him so despised early on. Oh, and if you're wondering if Abby hurt him for hurting Sebbi? She did. She punched him in the face, breaking his nose. She was too mad in the moment to use her shoes.