It happened so fast, seeing my Auryn ripped from my body and my mind going blank afterward. But it was strange- I could still feel my body being dragged and faintly hear Kenric commanding incoherent orders. It isn't until I'm shaken roughly that my eyes finally open.

"Wha..."

I can faintly see something lying before me. It's an iron box with a soft velvet interior, and on a pair of hinges is a lid with a small window right where my head would be. It reminds me of a coffin. It's connected to a large slab of metal with a thick pipe connected to the ceiling.

"Hop in," I hear a gruff voice say. "Everyone else is waiting for you."

I see another four pods connected to the same centerpiece- five points, like a star. Gently stepping inside and laying down, a pair of hands strap me in with leather belts. It's a dirty young man with a thick apron covering his torso and a rag over his head. He nods before slowly shutting the lid, and I hear a few locks being fastened. Then, with a low whirring, my pod rises upright, and I look down to see a large opening in the floor.

The ground gives below me, and I fall quickly. I hear Duncan and Charlotte screaming for dear life. The wind rushes against the outside of whatever we're in, and I look down to see the ground coming faster and faster. Then, when the land comes too close, I close my eyes again.

CRAAAAASH!

I shudder a bit, then I open my eyes and see nothing but a trail carving through the bottom of a mountain. Then, after some more clinking sounds, the clear covering pops open, and Kenric bursts out and beats his chest with enthusiasm.

"Ha! Never gets old!" Kenric says with a chuckle.

As he helps me unfasten my belt, I try to stay on my feet and walk far enough to look backward. The contraption is conjoined to a chain leading up to the sky. But when I look up, I can't see the White Lion.

Duncan holds his stomach as he, Charlotte, and Roland exit their pods and look to the sky. Kenric gives a signal, and the pods start rising with little jerks like someone is pulling the whole thing up with their bare hands.

"Where's the Lion?" Charlotte asks.

"Don't worry about her," Kenric says. "It's got a special kind of reflective paint on its hull. 'Makes it blend into the sky. As long as it stays in place, y' won't be able to tell it from another patch of the night."

Kenric reaches into his pod, pulls out a large pack, and hoists the strap over his shoulder. It bumps against his ax, which glistens in the setting sunlight.

"What're we waitin' for?!"

Mosleum comes into view after only a bit of climbing through the valley. I can hear music from the city, even from where we are. The windmill in the center is still turning, and the emblem at its top is more distinguishable- it's a model of the sun with a disturbing face. We hide behind a few standing rocks as Kenric unpacks his satchel. I notice a bridge over the moat that leads into the city- the only entrance. I still have that Adder Stone from Theoton, and when I peer through its hole, I look at some of the people in sight.

Not one shows a little black wisp within them. Or even an Auryn.

"Where are the Shadowhearts?" I ask. "Isn't this their territory?"

"Sure, but it ain't like they're holding the place for themselves," Kenric says. "Anyone's welcome inside, pure or not. Anyone with money that is."

"That seems kind of moronic on their part," Roland says.

"Maybe, maybe not," Kenric says. "It shouldn't matter. Nobody comes here to stay pure. That's what's so special about Mosleum. It's a place in the middle of nowhere where y' don't have to worry about judgemental eyes watching over y'. Y' don't even have to be y'self here. Y' can just feel free."

"Sounds like this place is more important to you than a few custard pies," Charlotte says. "Aren't you a little too young to be here anyway?"

"Bah," Kenric scoffs. "Y' sound like a mother."

"We should separate here," I say. "Kenric, Roland, and I will walk in through the front. You two must find another way inside," I tell Duncan and Charlotte.

"Hmm," Duncan hums. "I think I got it."

Duncan then points to a portion of the wall, and I see a pipe jutting out, with a pitiful stream of water pouring into the lake.

"We'll get in through that pipe there. It's gotta lead to somewhere," Duncan says.

"Ugh," Charlotte says. "Why did we accept these new clothes if we're gonna ruin them with sewage, of all things?"

"Seems to be the only way in for us," Duncan says. "Remember, quick and discreet."

"Alright, then," Kenric says. "Y' two need to look for a tall tower with a spotlight. There are four, so whichever's easiest to get to."

Kenric then reaches into his bag and pulls out several small vials. "Here. This is Phosphor Oil. It's got a kick to it that the Shadowhearts hate to taste. Douse y' blades in it if things get dicey." He starts handing out other little items from his bag. "Here we go. Throwin' daggers, some ointments, a bit of Elkin jerky if y' need a snack, and a pick in case y' need to get in a lock. Just pray it doesn't bust on y' ."

We pack our belongings, and Duncan and Charlotte look back at me before leaving. I give them both a smile, and they nod with me. Charlotte even blows me a kiss.

Walking inside Mosleum was easier than I thought, as nobody was there to stop us. Kenric breathes deeply as he looks around, almost like he's reminiscing. We keep our heads low as he leads the way, pointing out a few places. The people inside look gleeful and excited like they're in paradise. The buildings are crafted beautifully out of bricks of assorted colors- each pair of buildings has an alleyway in between leading to the outer district. I notice strings of glass bulbs that link between the shops and overhead, with small candles inside them to light the way. Pirema had lights just like these, as I recall, but it was fireflies that shined instead of a real flame. In addition, several walls are decorated with a nailed scroll of the same message- "Bridgette Westfall, One Night Only."

Signs are swinging from each building with differing messages and symbols, unique to their business- one was a merchant offering to dye your clothes, and another was a store specializing in elixirs and home remedies. Nothing store seems similar to another. Everything has its charm and wares. Markets especially were something I never appreciated before, when everything seemed contained within the walls of Asreal- all crops were grown there, all clothing was made there, all weapons were crafted there. Even the meat was only from the wildlife near the city, so the meals were easily monotonous. They were filling but bland.

"You lads off to the Ladybird Lounge?" I hear a man's voice say.

He comes at us from the side. He looks young, around my age, but his clothes look like a burlap sack made into a tunic.

"Me too! I've brought every Dali I have to my name tonight! Lady Westfall..." he says with an enchanted sigh. "It's worth every bead to have a woman like her all to myself, even for just one night."

As the man walks off, we stare at him as he merrily hums and sways like a child. Roland shakes his head at the image of that man. His eyes were green. Not Fiendish in the slightest.

But Kenric holds back a bit of a chuckle. "What a sap. Hope he gets himself a decent replacement wench."

"You condone this kind of behavior?" I ask.

"Not really," Kenric says. "But it makes the guy happy, throwing his life away for a bit of pleasure. I can relate to that." He looks up to the sky. "Debauchery can make y' feel immortal."

Roland then taps my shoulder, and he reaches my ear. He grips his Echo Stone, which glows very dimly.

"Duncan says they found some kind of sewer system underneath," he says. "There were a few rats, but nothing serious yet. They're looking for a way up now."

Just then, two children come racing past us with pinwheels spinning in their hands. No parents are chasing after them, so they must be here alone. Or their parents are too busy making fools of themselves. Perhaps they belong to the two drunken fools we pass by in the alley, who shamelessly fornicate in the open. Or maybe the parents are the two extravagantly dressed folk looking at exotic pets that hang in cages- they have large feathers in their hair.

If it weren't for their calmly colored eyes, I would've believed they were all Shadowhearts. But without my Auryn, I cannot tell- I will never feel a pulse.

Soon, as we reach the farthest edge of Mosleum, we find a crowd standing around a single building. Lined along the walls are illustrations of scantily-clad women- one's name is Irina- one's name is Ava. Big red doors lead inside the building, but they're being guarded by two large men and a metal bar, with a booth in the center where the line starts. In big red letters, stationed above the doors, read "THE LADYBIRD LOUNGE."

"A lot of men here tonight," I hear a man in front of us say. "This Bridgette lassie must be quite the looker, eh?"

"Are you kidding?" another man says. "My wife can't compete with a girl like her!"

"Mine can't either," his friend next to him says. "I sold my land to get the money for tonight!"

Suddenly, a scream is heard as an older man drops to the ground near the entrance- he must have been trying to get in without going to the booth. For his impatience, one of the guards pierced him with his spear. Two other citizens grab the man and carry him away, but the crowd moves forward regardless.

As we move forward, I see a well-dressed woman passing us by her lonesome. She has a flowing green dress with a large bottom, and her red hair is curled and reaches her shoulders. Not one head turns in her direction.

"There she is!" Kenric murmurs while pointing to the woman. "Follow her. She'll get us in through the back."

Kenric leads the way as we weave behind the crowd of muttering men. Some give us strange looks, almost like they want trouble. But then, someone whistles, and everyone turns their attention opposite. I can't see for sure, but I could swear I saw a pair of pale white legs in an alleyway and a dress flying through the sky. Kenric has to take a second glance, but Roland pushes him forward down the side of the lounge. The woman is standing near an open door, and she lowers the top of her dress to show her shoulders.

"You brought some friends with you, Kenny," the woman says as she winks at me. "Handsome ones, too."

"How's your baby, Mildred?" Kenric asks.

"Just fine. He just turned a year old last week. The little fellow's got a bottomless stomach for milk, but he's had his fill for months now!" she giggles. "Come right in, boys."

The woman lets us through, and we walk through an echoing hallway of musty-smelling wood. I hear loud chattering, laughing, and mugs clinking. I hear music and a woman singing. A strong, delicious smell wafts through the air as we walk through the hall. We pass by several doors with notes that spell out female names- "Ava"- "Purnelle"- "Violet"- "Irina." But not one has the name "Bridgette."

Finally, at the end is another door. Mildred opens it slightly and peers outside, then she steps out of our way. Kenric reaches into his pocket and pulls out a purple ten Dali bead for her. She sticks out her tongue as she drops it down her cleavage.

"Your booth is over on the right side, under the chandelier," she says. "How much do you want to withdraw today?"

"All of it," Kenric says. "Every last bead."

"'Must be determined!" Mildred says. "I'll get on it right away. Take your seats."

We walk past her, and the sounds and smells are even more potent. Past a railing, I look down to see the lounge- a fancy and organized place with dozens of comfy-looking red benches. Two chandeliers light the area, though instead of fire, they house tiny orange crystals that glow dimly. On the east side is a classy bar with a wall filled with bottles of wine and ale. Several tables rest across the floor, some with a bench and some with two chairs. Each table has a bottle of wine and a patron or two. In the front is a long stage decorated with more stringed glass bulbs that glow with more crystals, where a three-person band plays a merry tune with a beautiful blonde woman singing the lyrics. Just by the stage, above the ground, is a box seat with a comforting red curtain and an oversized chair. The evening sun creates a glow through the large rose-tinted windows.

Gorgeous women walk about, most of them revealed and moving gracefully. They touch the men softly, and some even lie on their laps. And the clueless men look ready to empty their pockets at any moment. I've never been a fan of wenches- they make me think of how their lives were reduced to becoming a show for desperate men. Of course, some women are different and enjoy this line of work, but those are the same women I've been taught to avoid- their only purpose is to please, not to love.

Roland leads the way as we trek down a big flight of stairs to the floor, and we get a few looks, but nobody stops us. We find an empty booth underneath one of the chandeliers. A black-haired woman spots us as we take our seats and approaches us. Her legs are showing, and she lightly brushes my shoulder.

"Welcome to the Ladybird Lounge, gentlemen," she says. Her eyes are fetchingly brown. "My name is Violet. What brings you here tonight?"

"We're here for Lady Westfall," Kenric says.

"Of course you are," she says with a drawl. "It seems everyone in Cinedime has gone mad over that woman, and if you ask me, one night with a girl isn't worth five hundred dali. I don't even charge a hundred."

"Are you not being auctioned yourself?" I ask.

"Oh, no," she says. "That's only for inexperienced girls. Mathias, the owner, has a mindset that once a woman is deflowered, the experience is far less memorable afterward. Those kinds of women are what bring the Lounge real money."

"Men are easily captivated by the pride of taking a woman's virginity," Roland mutters. "In a way, it's like a medal. It's something you can flaunt that you're remembered for."

"Well, I hope you boys have a nice time," Violet says. "And remember, I'm always available!"

As she walks off, I notice the lounge is getting fuller by the second. Jolly men are laughing around, gawking at the women, drinking their cares away, and counting the Dali left in their wallets. I see a few pairs of Fiendish eyes- they belong to overly dressed men in overcoats and outrageous hats, certainly looking as rich as one hopes to be. One man, a fat and drunken fool, has a giant golden necklace around his chest and a nearly bare woman under each of his arms.

I'm too captivated to notice the room is getting colder. I'm getting goosebumps, and I shiver a bit.

"You alright?" Roland asks.

"Yes, just a bit chilly."

Soon, Mildred comes down to us carrying a rather large sack that jingles louder and louder the closer she comes to us. She drops it on the table in front of us, and it's so heavy that the wood creaks.

"There we go!" she tells Kenric. "Twenty thousand Dali! Good luck, Kenny!"

As Kenric takes a mug from a nearby maiden, Roland and I are stunned at the bag of beads.

"How'd you get this kind of money?" I ask.

"Inheritance," Kenric says as he sips his drink. "Me Pa left me his fortune after he passed, about five years ago. I would've had more if it weren't for me mother."

"Your mother?"

"Aye," he says. "Thurid the Bloodhunter."

"The bandit?!" Roland says. "She's your mother?!"

"Hey, I don't like it as much as y' do," Kenric says. "I never asked her to be me mother. I can hardly remember her holding me when I was a babe, but I remember the last time I saw her. When Pa died, she came by to pay her respects. She wept like a child. She swathed him in her blood and led the prayer to put him to rest. Then, come the next morning, I found most of his belongings snatched overnight. Every Dali bead was taken, every artifact, every jewel. Robbed her own son the day after his father's funeral."

He grips his mug so tight that it might bust. "It is what it is. She can rot for all I care."

When the band stops playing, they all take a bow. The crowd starts to clap for them, and we join in the applause. Then, behind the curtains, a large man with a big bushy beard emerges and raises his hands in presentation. He's wearing a silk outfit and a ridiculous hat that barely stays on his head. The crowd seems to recognize him as the clapping gets louder and cheerier.

Fiendish eyes paint that man's face beyond all that hair.

"Welcome, brethren, to the Ladybird Lounge!" he shouts. "I am Mathias Corvaghn, owner and operator of this fine establishment. And I must say, this is a spectacular night to be alive, especially for me! I haven't had this much business in over thirty years! Seeing such a fantastic audience for such a fantastic event pleases me greatly. And now, before we begin, it is my sincerest pleasure to present to you tonight's sponsor for our main attraction! All the way from a successful conquering of the city of Theoton, may I present our beloved Prime Minister-"

He pulls down on a rope, and the curtains fly open. "DRAGO CASCAVICH!"

And there he is, slowly trotting forward to the front of the stage to a roaring crowd of approval. I haven't seen that man in days, but looking at his repulsive face makes me growl. He's wearing a new outfit- a black shirt vest over a purple long-sleeve with golden trim, black pants with a purple belt, and black boots with golden soles. That amulet is still swinging from his neck.

There is only one long slash across his face when there used to be several. I remember when he only had half of his face, and the image rolls up my spine like a wind chime.

"Thank you, thank you, all my wonderful friends," Drago says. "Well, I must say, I am quite flattered to see such a magnificent turnout for tonight. Before we begin, I wanted to come out and express, to each and every one of you, my deepest gratitude."

I can't tell whether or not he has rehearsed this speech. He speaks so elegantly that no one is looking away.

"Without your patronage and without your support, our great Empire would not be as elegant and powerful as it is today. You've all shown great commitment to the Dark, and by a personal message from the Lord himself, we of the Council are in your debt. You are truly the keystone to our perfect world, and every Dali you tithe adds another brick on the path of victory. So consider tonight just a dosage of my repentance."

Drago then takes a slow bow. He moves so slowly and threateningly, like the snake that he is.

"From the bottom of my heart, I thank you all."

He is met with more applause and cheers. Some even whistle for him. We faintly clap too, but I pray we praise him. Poor delusional people. They don't know the Shadowhearts like I do. That fat fellow on the stage hurries to Drago and gently takes his hand, kissing it. I can't hear what he's telling Drago over the applause, but they both look content to be in each other's company. Drago then waves to the crowd as he slowly melts into a pool of darkness and creeps away- then he appears in that booth high up over the stage and sits in its big chair. That fat Shadowheart then goes to the other side of the stage to a large podium.

"Well, if you're all as impatient as I am, let there be no more interruptions! On with the show!" he shouts to the eager crowd. "Allow me to welcome our first bid of the night and our main attraction! I present to you, from Theoton, the luscious Bridgette Westfall!"

From the back of the stage, a familiar face creeps out of the shadows. Her eyes are closed for a moment, but when she opens them, her Fiendish irises bring the room to a dead silence. Her long brown hair, with red streaks, looks soft and freshly cleaned. And she has a circle of tiny flowers stringed across her forehead. A burgundy dress on her body barely covers her- her legs and cleavage are nearly bare. The only thing entirely covered is her feet, by fancy white slippers.

Bridgette smiles intensely when the crowd gives her tremendous applause. Then, she curtsies gracefully as a few whistles ring in my ears.

"Yes, yes," the owner says. "Bridgette stands at five feet, eight inches, chest size thirty-eight, waist twenty-seven, hips thirty-four. Twenty-two years old. Father is Elon Westfall, Duke of Theoton, currently deceased. Mother is Elmira Westfall, a loyal handmaiden to Blightlord Bishop. We have received several biddings already for young Bridgette, so as always, we start with our highest offer-"

He waves his hand to that fat man with the large necklace in the corner. "Sir Osric Mordetski of Creighlam, with a bid of four thousand Dali!"

The man waves around his girthy hand, the other gripping a piece of meat on a bone. He's met with some ire, but he receives applause regardless. Now that I look at them, neither of those women looks pleased to be here.

"Four thousand already...." Kenric says. "This's gonna be harder than I thought."

"So, let's start the bidding at four thousand five hundred Dali," the man at the podium says. "Do I hear four thousan-"

"Five thousand!"

"I'll pay five thousand five hundred!"

"Five thousand seven fifty!"

The increments keep increasing, mostly from random men out in the crowd. The Shadowheart at the podium seems nearly salivating from the amount of money. Meanwhile, Kenric counts his Dali beads, while Roland can't take his eyes off Bridgette. She hasn't looked our way yet.

"Seven thousand!" Kenric shouts.

"Seven thousand Dali, wonderful!" the owner says. "Do I hear eight thousand?"

"Eight thousand," that fat man in the corner says.

"Eight thousand five hundred, that's my last offer!"

"Nine thousand!"

Suddenly, as I dart my eyes around the room, I notice Bridgette has finally spotted me. I can't help but feel frozen as those Fiendish eyes of hers stare at me with such silent intimidation. But instead, she smiles at me- a warm smile that could light the room if she had an Auryn instead of a Fiend.

"Hey," I hear Roland say as he taps my shoulder. "We have a problem. Duncan found something underground."

He then hands me the Echo Stone, which vibrates softly in my hand.

"Duncan? What's the matter?"

"Triton, listen closely. I think-"Ten thousand!"-they've led you into some kind of trap."

"What do you mean?"

"We found some kind of container down here. It's a big hole in the ground filled with Fiends! "Eleven thousand!" All I see is black and some red eyes swirling around in it! Some giant fans are swishing it around. Charlotte thinks the windmill's turning them."

All of those Fiends give me a slight chill. Or maybe it's the room starting to feel chillier than before.

"Can you get past it?"

"I think so," I hear. "I can see a ladder nearby, probably leading to the surface. We're not just gonna ignore this, are we?"

"We have no choice at the moment," I whisper back. "The auction-" "Fourteen thousand!" "-has already started."

"We gotta hurry up and get Bridge' out "Sixteen thousand!" while we still can!" Duncan says. "Pony up all you got already!"

As I give the stone back to Roland, I look around to see that the excitement has not dwindled. Men are still holding their hands up, shouting higher increments, while Bridgette is only standing there holding her hands innocently. That man at the podium is starting to sweat.

"Twenty thousand!" Kenric suddenly shouts.

"Twenty... thousand Dali," the man at the podium says. "My goodness, I may faint! I have twenty thousand from the young gentleman. Do I hear twenty-one thousand? Twenty thousand... going once... going twice..."

"Twenty-two thousand five hundred!" one of the men with the fancy clothes shouts.

And Kenric slowly lowers his hand and jaw. All three of us look at each other with disappointment and failure. Roland nor I have no money to contribute, and the increments keep rising.

"Thirty thousand!"

"Thirty thousand five hundred!"

"Thirty-two thousand seven fifty, that's my last offer!"

They just keep coming. The man at the podium is getting giddier by the second. And up in his booth, Drago watches with satisfaction.

"Forty thousand!" Roland suddenly shouts.

Kenric grits his teeth and pulls the man down to his head to silently mutter at him, and finally, only a few men are still standing to give higher bids. They're only the better-dressed men, however. I'm probably the only one in this lounge not to make a bet myself.

"Forty-five!"

"Forty-seven!"

"Fifty thousand!" one of the fancier men says. "That's all I have."

"This is astonishing," the man at the podium says. "This has got to be a new record! Fifty thousand from Sir Desmond Rayce of Hespith. Do I hear an advancement on fifty thousand Dali?"

"Heh heh..." I hear that fat man in the corner say. "A woman like her is worth... SIXTY THOUSAND!"

"Oh my... sixty thousand Dali..." the man at the podium says, practically trembling now. "Sixty thousand Dali from Sir Osric! Are there any higher offers?"

Finally, the room is filled with confused or desperate mutters. Finally, nobody is standing any longer, and that fat man looks proud and lustfully at Bridgette. She smiles at him.

"We gotta do something!" Roland whispers to me.

"Sixty thousand Dali going once...."

All these wishful men who came for a chance with just one specific woman, how they stare at the wealthy man about to have her himself.

"Sixty thousand Dali going twice...."

And poor Bridgette looks around like she's in her own private heaven, with all these eyes plastered on her. To think she may actually enjoy this kind of event, all these men wanting to take her purity like it was a prize.

A prize... What's the biggest prize to give to a place like this? To a man like Drago Cascavich.

"WAIT!" I shout.

The Shadowheart at the podium almost bangs a small gavel, but he stops just in time. All eyes dart in my direction, and the room gets uncomfortable very fast without a sound. I look around, seeing many judgmental eyes waiting for me to talk. Bridgette is giving me a confused glare. And when I look up, even Drago seems to be interested in what I'm saying. He raises only one eyebrow.

Then, as I stare at Drago, I roll down my right sleeve. My emblem is clear as the setting sun, but when I look at it, it makes me a bit cautious- usually, the moon shape is complete, but a portion of the circle has faded away.

"I... am the Flamekeeper..." I say.

"What? The Flamekeeper in my establishment?!" the man at the podium says. "Who let him in here?! Guards! Seize him and his followers! Take them away!"

Soon, a few large men in armor holding spears come charging at me, surrounding me, Kenric and Roland. They jab at me with their weapons, though nothing touches me. Finally, I'm forced to raise my hands, or they'll surely impale me.

"Stop!" Drago shouts. "Let the man speak. He's clearly outnumbered."

"But..." the owner says. "But your Honor, he's-"

"Let him speak, Mathias," Drago says.

After a moment, the owner waves his hand, and the guards slowly return from our table. I come forward in view, and it feels like I have archers pointed at me from every corner. I step in front of the stage, in front of Bridgette. Then, with the most convincing bow I can give, I turn to Drago.

"I surrender..." I say. "I am no match for the Empire."