Eiren awoke to the sound of rain and wind, smashing itself relentlessly against the window. He had not expected to fall asleep; the shock of being awoken at all nearly outmatched his fear of the harsh elements.

The lamp had, of course, gone out. Absently wondering why he bothered to light it anymore, he slid out of bed and onto the floor, his feet chilling dramatically on the icy floorboards. Where are those damned candles, he cursed, once more in total darkness. Though he spent an increasing amount of time in the room, it was always with the benefit of light - no amount of familiarity could cure this intense nothingness, especially with the storm clouds blotting out the moon and the stars.

He kicked the edge of his suitcase and bit back a yelp. Somewhere in the darkness, something scattered away, nails or claws scratching at the door. He froze, straining to hear where it came from. Not again, he groaned, as he turned his blind gaze to the door. The mysterious being from the night before had come back, it seemed, its breath rasping harshly against Eiren's ears.

The fear of the unknown, of being eaten alive, and of dying in this miserable place swelled in Eiren's chest until he could not breathe. He stood, frozen to the floor, his throat constricting as it tried to force something into his lungs. As the scratching grew louder, so did the thudding of his heart, until the low whine of whatever was behind that door forced a high-pitched squeak out of him.

I must not let this end me, he thought desperately, and he crept forward, hands groping about for the door. Before he could convince himself that this was a stupid idea or that it would assuredly spell death and injury, he wrenched the door open and screamed into the darkness.

Nothing was there. The scream died out as he looked at... nothing. The hallway was gone, the walls were gone, the rest of the castle was gone.

The sight made him swallow hard, staring out at the swirling, empty space. Faint stars blinked in and out of existence, and thin clouds of dust slipped in and around the space between.

It occurred to Eiren that he was dreaming. The thought unsettled him, that it could feel so real, but he hadn't contemplated the sheer strangeness of looking at something that simply did not exist for long before a slim, wiry wolf had emerged from the void, his sharp paws creating dull echoes.

"You will have to wake up soon, boy..." it whispered, its breath rasping like dry tongues, panting in heat. Eiren's breath hitched and he coughed slightly; the stress of keeping his eyes on the wolf made it rather difficult to focus on breathing regularly. "Open your mouth, let that poison out..." The wolf snickered and walked around Eiren, his sharp shoulders hunched painfully. "You're not the only one who needs to breathe..." Eiren could take the pain of listening to the sickening voice any longer - he released a shrill scream that was swallowed up at once by the heavy emptiness, and he ran.

There really was no point in running, he tried to reason with himself, not in this world of emptiness and scavengers, but run he did. Eventually, he came across the piano door, and without considering what was behind it, or if the wolf could see him in the void, he had flung himself inside and slammed the door shut.

Somebody sat at the piano, oblivious to his intrusion. They played a song, hauntingly familiar, and he realized with a start that the music resembled that which Caelony had played on his first day back at Kelfordshire.

Was it, perhaps, Caelony, who struck so emotionally at the keys? He tried to walk quietly forward, but the room - devoid of the elegant decorations the real room contained - was made of a thick, glass box of sorts. His footsteps echoed accordingly, and the figure jumped and yelped.

"My Lord!" She stood hastily and smoothed her hands nervously against her dress. She looked familiar, with her kind, open face. He instantly felt a twinge of regret for having caused such a sweet countenance to turn so uncomfortably.

"Please," he murmured, his voice losing itself as soon as it left his lips. The effect was... disconcerting, and apparently terrifying, as the pleasant young woman took several steps backwards. Her eyes opened wide, and she began to splutter and choke.

"Stay... stay away!" she shrieked, and her hands went up to her throat. "Leave me be, vile creature! My breath... my breath is my own!" Her choking became violent - what had he done? He ran to her, but even in her extreme distress, she still turned away from him, gasping and wheezing. Eiren grasped her arm, but she hit the piano and fell to the floor, bringing him down with her.

"I'm only trying to understand," he said, though, this wasn't at all what he wanted to tell the poor girl. Why had he said that? Was it perhaps the dream, twisting desires that he had no control over? The girl looked up at him, her lips turning purple the tighter she squeezed on her throat. Her expression was nothing short of terrifying. Who could rest peacefully ever again with the look of fearful death directed so unflinchingly upon them?

He reached over to pull her hands from her throat, but as he did so, he found that he was looking in the face of the priest.

He sat up and looked around. The room was back! The window was on his right; the desk on the left; the door just ahead, where it had always been. He breathed a sigh of relief and sank upon the bed.

"Are you well, Mr. Adair?" the priest asked, a look of concern buried in the lines of his face. Eiren did not answer, but released a long, trembling breath, taking in more and more, until he began to cry, the memory of the mysterious girl's self-suffocation impressing itself rather sharply on his mind. The cries turned into sobs, guttural, as though they had been pressing against his chest and throat, and were finally released after years of resistance. His tears fell thickly; the priest reached a hand out and tried to comfort him, but it was a long while before Eiren could regain control over his emotions.

The sense of loss was exquisite. Had he known the dying girl, so overwhelmed with fear? As he cried, tired and confused, he tried to remember where he had seen her, but only the image of the dream presented itself. Her purple lips, her eyes - opened to reveal the full whites - and the hands that she wrapped around herself made him tremble. Again, the guilt forced the question: What have I done?

After only a few minutes, his tears had turned to whimpers, and the whimpers eventually turned to the querulous breathing of a sleeping man. The priest stared down at the tormented young man, and felt a strong sense of sorrow for him.

"How I wish I had kept you from all of this," he whispered to the sleeping Eiren. He brought the covers back over him and turned to leave. "I truly am sorry."

In the morning, Eiren's dreams had faded from his memory, save for the innocent face of the young woman. As he approached the mirror in the bathroom, he could not help but feel the guilt once more, knotting itself deep in his stomach. He stared at the glass, and a gaunt, black-eyed man stared back. Who is this, he asked silently, biting his lip as tears filled his eyes.

He looked vastly different than he had just a few weeks ago. In Perrinton, he was flushed with life. Joy, pleasure, and luxury filled his body with blood and made him colourful. Here, the atmosphere had robbed him of that conceited air of health. How dare he attempt to live! Who was he, that he should have a better claim to sanity and the simple notion that sleep would come easy, a house would be home, or a family would be kind and caring?

He shivered and turned away. Something felt different, today. His mind was running in directions he had never seen before, drifting down avenues of thought that troubled him.

Eiren looked down at the bath and pulled the tap, staring in silence as hot water filled the large, grey basin. When it had reached nearly to the edge, he pulled off his nightclothes - heavy with sweat from his troublesome dreams - and stepped in the water. As he lowered himself down, letting the water envelope everything up to his nose, he thought of Caelony's birthday.

In his particular state, the idea of attending the celebrations of anybody at all made his head ache, but to add the loud and aggressive behaviour of his bride-to-be made the prospect all the more daunting for Eiren. His sleeping as of late could only be called resting; between the weather, strange noises in the house, and now the horrid dreams, Eiren supposed he didn't actually sleep for more than a few hours each night.

He wriggled his toes and watched the water ripple. If only Caelony had been true to him, he thought, his chest constricting again. Her affair cut him to the quick, but more so, the flippancy of it all hurt more than her actual crime. If she had apologized, or tried to avert his gaze, or appeared remorseful at all, then perhaps he could have forgiven her, or been comforted knowing she hadn't entered such illicit relations merely to spite him. The fact stood, and his choked sob echoed strangely in the water as he thought this, that Caelony Van Wyk did not care about him. All of the flirtations and attentions she bestowed upon him since his arrival had been lies. Each darling and every smile had been an attempt to hide what she really felt about him. Well, he thought, if she felt at all. The notion lifted him out of the water. As he took in much-needed mouthfuls of air, he considered with some degree of comfort that it hadn't been him she despised, but rather, she tried to shield him from her vile personality... at least for a short while.

After soaking for a long while more, Eiren eventually drained the bath and dressed himself for the day. Breakfast was a quiet affair; the cold and rainy weather gave way to a thick fog, and the absence of colour invaded the thoughts of everybody at the table. Even Caelony was silent. Her usual chatter was replaced with a moodiness that Eiren would have previously attributed to stress, or concern over the upcoming celebrations, but all he saw as she picked at her food was the veil. Blinded by surprise, or too long apart, he hadn't noticed it before, but everywhere she went, he could see the layer of defense, the heavy veil she threw over herself. Was she hiding more than just a lover? He remembered his dream and the girl who had played Caelony's song, and he averted his gaze from her. If dreams meant anything at all, then he must not let her see that he had been given some strange insight into her life.

The meal passed quickly enough, and the priest tottered off to prepare Hatchhanger Abbey for a celebration. Various rites dictated that each year passed was a gift from the Great Ones, and should be acknowledged as such before any real celebrations began. The idea of Caelony sitting through a service by somebody she had no patience for gave Eiren the needed encouragement to walk around the castle, something close to happiness bouncing his step. Surely, a small service would not be enough to repay the pain she had caused him, but it was a start.

Having tucked his red notebook in his shirt before stepping down to eat, Eiren was prepared to make something useful of his day. With Lord Van Wyk absent, and Caelony busy arguing with the priest about where this went, or that was to be, Eiren was quite free to investigate the rooms that Caelony had ignored on her tour. He was sure that they contained something more of the past inhabitants, and if he was to understand what had happened to the wives of the Lord, he needed something Caelony hadn't led him to.

Most of the first floor of the castle consisted of waiting rooms, sitting rooms, or entertainment rooms. Smiling grimly at the irony of all of the accommodations for guests, despite the distinct lack of visitors, he eventually made his way to the corner of the castle, somewhere far on the Western Wing. At least, if Caelony came running after him, she wouldn't be here - any degree of proximity to her father's rooms turned her away at once. He would be free to explore.

Traipsing around a corner, he soon came to a door that looked markedly different from those just a few rooms over. The door was black, like bottle upon bottle of ink had been hurled at its unfortunate surface. Immediately interested, Eiren pushed tentatively on the handle - the appearance of the door gave off a strange aura of defense, and he was not altogether convinced it wouldn't lash out if he touched it - and stepped forward into the space.

It was a surprisingly well-lit room, albeit it exceedingly muted light. Dust floated freely, pouring visibly across a few paltry beams of sunlight from the window. Paintings decorated every surface that wasn't a table or a shelf, and on those were perched curious little bell jars. Eiren approached a table and sniffed, the smell of dead flowers and something acidic pestering his nose. He reached out a finger to one of the glass domes, and found that there was a very small mouse inside. With a stunned jolt, he realized what he was looking at.

He had, quite by accident, and in a place he never would have guessed it to be, found Caelony's taxidermy room.