On the balcony that overlooked the heart of New York City, a vine had begun creep from the main garden to the roof. James cut it. He cut it again. He cut it and kept cutting it until it lay in jagged fragments on the terrace. 

Putting away the scissors, he patted down his robe. Then he leant out over New York. It reminded him a little of London – in a way. A far cry from the cesspool of smog and strays that it had been in 1900's. In the 1700's it'd been even worse. The house had been quieter since His visit. It always was. Every time He came, one of the lesser Vaskels would vanish. James had noticed over the years, but never commented about it. Vaskels weren't worth his trouble. What was his trouble however, were the other disappearances. The Higher Vaskels managing the main body of his Empire. They'd been slowly picked off over these last few years, like a small child was pulling the legs off a spider. One by one. From the Chinese Branch to the Irish, the pillars of his Empire were being struck down. After growing concerns raised by the lesser Vaskels in the Dynasty, James had sent one of his lackeys to investigate. They hadn't turned up any results. All they knew was that it wasn't His doing. It was someone else. 

Looking down, he saw that his hands were shaking. Black ash curled around his fingers and he cursed. The Dark Matter was surfacing again.

"James?" He half-turned, half-skittered.

"Hope," he said smoothly, straightening up. She glared at him.

"You're hiding something". Sometimes she knew him too well. Tucking his hands into the folds of his robe, he said,

"I spoke to Emma. The boy's mother". Hope wandered closer, titling her head to one side. The tips of her brown hair faded a little, growing lighter and lighter the more she moved.

"You wanted to learn about him. I know you did," she said proudly. When he didn't respond, she rolled her eyes.

"You might be able to hide your feelings from yourself, but you can't hide them from me. You want to get to know him"—

"He is of little consequence. Just a pawn. No better than the filth in this house. He doesn't matter to me, nor does his mother. Only you matter to me," he broke off, stunned.

"Me? All you've ever cared about is power. Power and this Empire – your Empire. Nothing more," barked Hope.

"I made this Empire for you. This power, all of the manipulation, all of this, for you"— Now it was her turn to interrupt.

"I never wanted this Empire!" she cried. "All I ever wanted was you".

"Then let me do this. If for fill His wish, if Alexa lies dead, then we can be free. We can go wherever we want, be whoever we want. Just like we were back then". His hands shook – more violently this time – and Hope lurched away. They pulled back, as if a hot poker had landed between them. Why didn't she understand; he didn't want to hurt her. Black ashes flared around his fingers, this time rushing up his arms and turning his eyes to molasses. The fear in Hope's face almost matched what he'd seen the night they'd met. Then it was gone and she remained.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, James knew he was doing the wrong thing. His parents had gone to bed at the humanly hour of nine, taking his sister with them. They hadn't even come to say goodnight. He would've asked Alexa to join him, but subtlety really wasn't her strong suit. He slunk down the stairs and walked over to the mirror in the entrance hall. Using any of the doors would be too loud and he'd seen his father use this passageway before. 

Without hesitation, he pressed his fingers to the glass. It rippled, peeling back like skin until he could see the stone walkway on the other side. Praying for his sister to forgive him, he stepped through. The sensation of the Magik passing through his body sent ripples all the way up his spine. His legs muscles wound tautly around his bones – tight enough to snap. In seconds, it was over. An empty passage stared back at him. He took a step, followed by another and several more until he found that he was running. The passage led to one of the house's many underground chambers. Only this chamber led outside. To the human world. 

Turning his head a fraction, he checked to see if Alexa was following. When he saw the mirror close up behind him, he knew it was safe to run on. The chamber was pitch black, but that bore no challenge. He picked his way towards the stone hatch and lifted it up. 

Climbing through, he could see the other walkway – too precarious for the heavy footed – guiding him towards the outside world. Where he could have some fun. It hadn't seemed like too much to ask, but his parents had thought otherwise. Well, they may be able to control Alexa, but they couldn't control him. He jumped over the walkway and slammed through the door. But he didn't stop there. He had to get out of the estate without opening the gates. Because if the house new he'd gone, then his parents would too. Breaking into a sprint, James dashed through the undergrowth. Despite the trees being leafless, they still provided him with good cover. As he drew closer to the fence surrounding the estate, he cast a quick glance ahead into the village. For some strange reason, the villagers were dancing and singing and there was a great long table set up in the square. 

James headed further left, so none of them would see him and he jumped, soaring over the fence and landing on a thatched roof. His posture was light, so it didn't cave in like he'd expected. From here, he could investigate. 

The baker had set out all the bread from a week's worth of stock, while the butcher had overloaded the table with wild boar and venison. Many of them had been caught by James himself. A fiddle was being played and husbands danced with their wives and children in the street. A group of young women were busy entertaining the small crowds with the village's famous Dance Of The Snow Queens. They held melting ice in their hands. One woman in particular, one with brown hair and eyes that were moon-white, looked up at him. It was only for a moment, but it was enough. She flicked up her braceleted palm and beckoned him down towards the dancing. He shook his head but shuffled closer to the edge of the roof. She smiled. Maybe one dance wouldn't hurt. He jumped down from the roof, landed in the snow. The villagers all stopped to look at him and even the fiddle ground to a halt. The woman however, just held out her hand. He took it and the dancing started back up again. 

The fiddle resumed its playing.

"What is this?" he asked. The woman twirled around, and they linked arms.

"The Winter Festival. We hold it every year. This is my second year of dancing".

"Second year? You look as if you've spent your entire life learning to move so beautifully," he said, and it was the honest truth. For a human, she moved as gracefully as an immortal. She blushed and laced her fingers further into his.

"I have not seen you down here before. Amongst the villagers and I. Why do you never visit?"

"My parents are very protective. It is not as if this village accepts us anyway. We are outcasts," he said.

"You do not look like an outcast to me" the woman smiled.

"How many outcasts do you normally dance with?" he asked. She spun around and they met in the middle.

"What is your name?" she inquired.

"James Frostbite". She laughed and let him pull her closer.

"I take it the latter is not your true name".

"How did you know?" he chuckled. "My parents chose it. A very long time ago. They do tend to be dramatic. What is your name?"

"Hope," she said. "My name is Hope". His Hope. His eyes glowed – red and vibrant. Fear flashed between them, just as the fiddle stopped playing for the second time that night. She tore her hand back and cradled it against her bosom.

"What...? What are you?" She glanced back and forth between him and the gates to the manor. James cursed himself, stepping back.

"I am sorry," he said. "I was being too brash. I only wanted to explore the festivities". He turned away, debating whether or not to Alter her, so she would forget him by the morning. Iinstead he just turned away. There was no point Altering her, for the fear on her face was punishment enough. Facing his angry mother and father didn't seem like much fun either. James began to slink away into the shadows, where he belonged.

"Wait!" she cried. He faced her, his eyes still glowing that bloodied red.

"Join us. For the feast". He stood stock still, thinking. Why would she—

"You wanted to enjoy the festivities, did you not?" That playful tone had entered her voice again, and when he looked at her, he could see that her face begged forgiveness. James slowly walked towards her. Maybe she was his Hope after all.

James doubled over, Hope rushing to his side. He pushed himself back against the balcony just before they could touch.

"Sorry," she winced. "I keep forgetting". He bowed his head and laughed: the first time she hadn't acted like his judgemental conscience. He'd done what he'd had to do. He hunched over again, his bones seizing up. The Dark Matter coursed from his arms to his lungs and although they were frozen, they could still feel pain.

"I will return," he promised, flinging himself into Halfirr. The world shifted, changing angles and reshaping boundaries until he saw the coloured, yet colourless pit of the Eternal Plain. The Blott Rye was rushing above him. He'd been emptying his Dark Matter into it for so long, he was surprised it hadn't burst. The Chainlinks return was long overdue. Cautiously, he let the darkness flow from him into the Rye, watching it as it grew. Something crashed into his senses. Alexa had been here. Alexa and the boy. He could sense where she'd touched the Magik, feel her power flowing alongside his. He slammed his fist into the sand, then kicked it as it rose upwards into red-ash shards. He could've killed her here, right here and no one would've known. This was all because Wolfie couldn't be bothered to do her job. With a snarl, he stepped right out of Halfirr, appearing back on the edge of the balcony. Hope was standing a little way off, peering at the New York skyline.

"She's been there," he breathed, and she turned around. "She's been there! She's discovered it! I knew my father should've kept a closer eye on his study".

"James, calm down. Who's been in Halfirr?" asked Hope.

"Who do you think?!" he snapped. Then his anger receded into white hot rage. Fear rose in her eyes again.

"James no, not yet. Don't do this. That power – it's changing you. You know what it'll do to Halfirr if it isn't contained!"

"By then Alexa will be dead. Nothing else matters until she lies buried".

"Dead or buried?" she growled. With Alexa, there was a difference. With her there was always a difference.

"Dead," he affirmed and left it at that.

She lies in the coffin, staring at him. Her red eye may be closed, but her socket gapes emptily. Pleading him not to close the lid. He moves her hair over the scars – the damage he's done – and places the lid on the base. He orders the villagers, who are still under his Alteration, to seal the chamber. No one will ever know this way. He wouldn't have to know this way. So, he leaves her there. He buries her under memories and tries to forget.

"Get me a Wayward Crystal," ordered James. The Vaskel scuttled off, returning a few minutes later empty handed.

"He wants you to use your telepathy, your connection. You must appease Him". James's eyes flickered and the Vaskel pulled back. As much as he didn't want get inside that filthy mind, he knew he had to. For Hope's sake, for His sake. He had to.

"Inform Him that Alexa will be in my possession soon. Go. Go!" The Vaskel bowed and left and James wrung his hands through his hair.

"That thing cannot be told. She cannot be contacted without that Crystal," he said. Hope raised her hands calmingly.

"You don't have to contact her at all. She'll do her job". James shook his head.

"She never does her job. Not properly. There's always a hidden motive. No," he growled. "I'll have to get her to listen to me". He squared his shoulders, closed his eyes. Then he listened as the world around him faded and the edges of Wolfie's mind sank into view. They were jagged and twisted – like the outline of a massacre. Laughter and music echoed all around him.

Witch, listen to me, he began. Screaming erupted, causing his ears to pop.

Not like you to make a house call. Her voice. It was a little way off, at the entrance to her mind. A locked entrance that she wouldn't let him past.

I want you to stop playing with your food, he told her, immediately breaking the connection.