Don Honesto Gaston was seventy-nine. Very much alive, and unfortunately very slow. He took his time sitting down, then took some more to stare at Lucas.

Breaking the awkward silence, Lucas asked, "When will you get to the part where you tell me why I'm here?"

"Why? Are you in a hurry to leave?"

He fixed the man a wry look. "I've been here two days. Sure, I want to know why I have to stay longer."

Honesto shook his head. "You rarely stay home."

"Gramps, I'm busy—"

"I know," the man interjected. He shifted in his seat and let out a painful groan. "Your father's away on business. I can't run the hacienda on my own."

Lucas frowned. "You mean I should do it?"

"It's about time."

He groaned. "And where did papa go?"

"I said," the man said, eyes turning stern. "Business."

Lucas rolled his eyes. "When is he coming back?"

"Once he's done with business."

Before he could say something to get him in trouble, a knock came to his grandfather's study door.

"Come in," Honesto Gaston called.

A servant walked in, followed by their breathless farmhand. "There's been a fire in the fields."

Lucas sighed, stealing his grandfather a look.

"Go deal with it," came the order.

He reluctantly stood.

"We're glad you're back, Sir," the farmhand said as they came down the stairs.

"I'm not sure I am," he grumbled under his breath.

On the way to the field, he asked why the burning happened. "We no longer burn the fields."

"We didn't, Sir," said the farmhand. "Someone did."

"Who?"

The farmland refused to tell him anything more, only that he should see it for himself. When they arrived, he saw a crowd in the middle of the burnt field.

"She's not human, is she?" Lucas heard one lady ask as he approached with the farmhand. The workers saw him and before he could ask, one of them said, "Sir Lucas!"

Over a dozen of them stepped aside to reveal a confused teen. His brows fused when his eyes landed on the unburned perfect circle, the girl right in the middle. The brown maya bird picking on the dried leaves was the only fearless creature around.

The smell of burnt cane trash traveled up his nostrils. What happened here?

"We found her unconscious in that circle," one farmer explained as Lucas approached.

"She's not from here, that's for certain," a woman said before Lucas could voice the question, tone laced with scorn.

Lucas slowly approached the girl. She looked around thirteen or fifteen, he could not be sure. Too young, he thought. "Are you all right?"

"She's not hurt. We asked," said someone behind him.

"Let the girl answer," he ordered. Then gently, he asked again, "Are you hurt?"

She blinked, brown eyes looking confused. Her long black hair tousled, dried sugarcane leaves sticking out in some places; her white dress smeared with dirt like her face. "No," was her croaky reply. She swallowed.

"Do you remember how you came to be here?"

She looked around. "Where am I?"

"You're in Hacienda Gaston."

"Hacienda?"

"A farm. Don't you remember how you got here?"

She shook her head.

"What's your name?"

She frowned at him, as if the answer was there on his face. "I don't... I don't know."

"How old are you?"

She shook her head. "I don't... remember anything."

"Anything at all?"

She blinked, her brown eyes filling with tears. "I can't remember—" And then she started to panic, twisting over the dirt and dried leaves, causing the maya bird to fly away. "Where am I? How did I—What happened?"

"Hold her down again," ordered the leader of the group. "She was hysterical earlier," he added to Lucas.

"Don't touch her," he sternly said, lifting an open hand to the girl. "Calm down," Lucas said. With a reassuring look, he touched her shoulder. "I'll take you to the doctor. Is that okay?"

"I don't know—"

"Then we'll find help. They'll know what to do. Someone might be looking for you as we speak." He noted that her white dress, although ruined and filthy, did not look cheap. She could either be from the city or from a neighboring hacienda. He was not very confident with the latter. He knew everyone in the area; was friends with their children. But if this girl was from the city, then it meant she had to travel through an Erebus to get here.

Someone—or something—must have followed her here.

But that would still not explain how the fire started and how she was spared. It did not explain the unburnt patch of land.

Unless this was staged.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'll be all right?"

He nodded, not sure if an assurance was the best thing at the moment.

"Could be a Villain. I heard a few arrived today," he heard one woman say. Lucas ignored the remark. He stood up, offering a hand. "Can you stand?" She nodded and took his hand.

On her feet, she swayed, and he steadied her with both hands.

"Carry her to the Rover," he ordered two of the men.

They hesitated to approach the girl, afraid to touch her, but one scowl from Lucas and one of them hoisted the girl in his arms and walked away.

As he turned, an old woman grabbed his arm. "She's not human," she said, glancing at the circle on the ground.

Lucas sighed, summoning patience. "We're in a Vesta."

"She can cause something, Sir Lucas. We can't have anyone—"

"And again, we're in a Vesta." He pointed at the ground. "This can easily be just a prank by some spoiled kids in the area."

The old woman turned to look at the woodland across the street. Lucas shrugged from her hold and walked to his Rover.

He ran his fingers through his unbound hair. "Great," he growled. Not three days in Cale and he had to deal with this.

His phone rang. Taking it to his hear, his grandfather's voice asked, "Well?"

"Not sure. I think someone thought it would be fun to play with fire. I'll see you for lunch."

"Good. We're not done talking."

"About what?"

"Your assistant is here."

He smiled, squinting at the sun. "I was hoping you'd enjoy his company."

"Well, I don't want him up here. Take him to the basement!"

"I'm pretty sure the house is large enough for Judah, gramps."

As he hung up, Tina called.

"They said there's a little girl in the field," his sister's voice said.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"From the woodland?"

"I don't think so."

"Does gramp knows?"

"No, not yet. Now, stop calling me."

Tina laughed. "Loving your new job?"

"Just call dad and tell him to come home quick."

"No way. You call him."

"He listens to you."

"Well, not always. Alright. See you later. I'll tour Judah around. Is that okay?"

"Sure."

"Get rid of that girl before mom finds out. You know how she is with stray things. They inflate her charitable soul and all."

He sighed as he reached the Rover. The girl was now in the backseat, looking out the window at the woodland across the street. "I'll try."

"Good! See you at lunch!"

Pocketing his phone, he jumped behind the wheel and looked over his shoulder. "You alright?"

The girl just looked at him. She looked so young and vulnerable.

He sighed and started the engine.

***

Wherever they were, however she allowed herself to be dragged to this place, Isla regretted it the moment they arrived.

She glared at the large manor in front of them. "What's this?"

"They call it the Wyrd House," explained Cris.

She turned and stared at her secretary. Behind him, Lola was blinking at the manor, her black hair blown to the side by the gust of wind from the giant trees around them. The tiny glowing orbs floated softly, sighing their faint melodies, echoing with the unfamiliar sounds of the woodland. A few orbs circled around Tien, the only guard she brought with her. As one of the Opulents she trained with in the Academy years ago, he was one of the few she could trust with her secrets.

"It's a colonial house with—"

"No, Cris. The question is if it's livable," she interjected.

"I'm sure it is," said Lola, taking a photo of the house with her phone. "Shall we?"

Isla stared at the old edifice before them. Made of bricks and wood, the mansion screamed ancient history. The fragmented wooden balustrades of the veranda above whispered their remaining days.

She walked away from their rented black van and followed her sister down the stone path and up the short flight of stairs, stopping at the double wooden doors.

Cris jumped from behind her and fumbled with an old set of keys. Isla impatiently waited. The strong wind rattled something to her right and she snapped her head to see sliding windows that looked more fragile than their dying great-grandfather back home. One shove and they would fly off their tracks.

"They're capiz shells," Cris explained, stepping away from the door.

"Very durable," she wryly noted, studying the perfectly cut small square shells encased in wooden frames. "Laced with a water nymph's blood?"

"No."

"Precisely my point," she grumbled.

Lola excitedly pushed at the doors and they creaked open, revealing what Isla had just imagined: Dark and dingy.

"It's clean," said her sister, looking around.

"The previous manager lived here," Cris said as they all filed into the hallway, Tien right behind them, silent as he always was.

A small brown bird flew inside, carrying with it a whiff of the glowing orbs. It settled on a window sill.

"This place was once a hospital during a human war," Cris explained over the clucking of her heels against the wooden floors. Lola was already looking around for a light switch. "Then they turned it into a prison half a century later before it was..."

Isla stopped and stared at him. So did Lola. "A prison?" Pointing, she incredulously added, "With those windows?" As if fearing it was also being judged, the bird flew away.

Cris shrugged. "It's in the middle of an Erebus woodland. Creatures roam the place—entities and spirits humans are afraid of."

"I bet the prison guard is the ghost of the boy I can definitely feel lurking somewhere, because this place is obviously not graced," she wryly said.

"That and the woman in the kitchen. And a few house elves who aren't showing themselves," Lola murmured.

"Gracing land is not that common around here."

"Why?"

Cris shrugged. "They embrace all spirits."

"Nonsense. Who will be able to sleep knowing an old god may come to you anytime?"

"The former manager?" Cris replied with sarcasm. "Look, gracing land is not allowed in East Isles."

"Why?" Isla asked, dumbfounded. Gracing properties was done on a daily basis back home.

"Because spirits have rights."

"Cris, where's the switch for the lights?" Lola asked.

The secretary cleared his throat.

Isla raised her brows at the young man, silently expressing her question.

"The place has no electricity."

Her eyes narrowed at the incredible revelation, and she slowly stepped right in front of her seventeen-year-old secretary. "I thought you said work has been done here."

"They only got to fix the roofing."

The wind outside howled even stronger. A storm was coming. Perfect.

Lola, now looking a little hysterical, rushed to Cris. "You did not tell me I won't be able to charge my phones. I have a very important online voting event at midnight—"

"I already called a company."

"The former managers never complained about this?"

"Electricity doesn't reach this place, so I arranged for solar panels."

When he closed his mouth without saying the conclusion Isla wanted to hear, she asked, "But?"

"But they're not sure about spending days in an Erebus."

Lola gasped with disbelief, her breath turning into a dramatic wheeze.

"What do you mean?" Lola asked. "Find Opulent workers."

Cris looked at them wryly. "There are none. Their workers are all humans. They—"

"They can be paid," Isla said with finality. "Get those lazy bastards here first thing tomorrow. Double the payment."

"This is not the Western Arena. Things are a little different here. The humans are more reluctant."

Isla scoffed and Lola, whose hair had turned into a darker shade of purple, quickly turned off her phone to save power. "I'll have to borrow your phone later, Cris. This is your fault. If Luke Edner doesn't win, I'll be... oh, nasty gods of Olympus, Diana will kill me if I can't vote. We've spent nights creating accounts for the voting and—"

"I'll visit the company tomorrow. The entire cost will be taken out of your personal account. The office just doesn't have the budget for this," said Cris, walking past them and up the stairs, completely unaffected. "There won't be servants here as you requested. No other Opulents other than us either. Except for the staff in the Department of Lost Things, we'll all be alone in this woodland."

"But Cris, can't we get that electricity set up like later this afternoon?" Lola asked, bounding up the stairs behind him.

"Not possible."

Her sister stopped midway and groaned, hair turning blue.

Isla faced Tien. He towered over her and only stared when she faced him. His thoughts were filled with things he had to do before now and sleep: walking around the woodland later tonight to acquaint himself with the area, check for any hexes in the premises, track down dangerous creatures, and perhaps even visit some nymphs to gain more information.

"What do you think?" she asked him. "Is this a safe place for us?"

"From humans, yes," he replied, his sharp-angled hooded eyes staring back at hers. "I'm not yet certain about the other strangers."

She watched Lola brush her hand along the walls while she climbed the stairs, a thing her sister often did to connect with a new place. It was as if she talked to the walls and the railings as her hands lightly caressed their surface. Lola came to a halt and looked up at the top landing, as if the railing she touched just told her something.

Lola rarely shared what she saw in the things she touched, but on rare occasions such as this one, she did. "The walls have seen so many things," she said, looking over her shoulder at Tien and Isla.

Isla followed her sister's gaze to the top landing. There was nothing there, but there was something.

Lola broke into a smile, cheeks puffing. "I'll have fun with the history lessons. Cris! We need candles!"

Isla followed her sister, intent on finding a decent room. A tinkling sound coming from the kitchen at the back of the stairs made her stop.

"Lunch?" Tien asked from below.

"Yes," she replied, hands on the railing, eyes looking up at the landing above.

Something was always around in an Erebus, but this woodland in particular seemed different. It was not like most Erebus. Typically, magic could be sensed even if the creatures were trying to hide. But here, it seemed that it was muted, almost as if the magic was trapped somewhere.

***

The maya bird landed on the rock beside the kapre smoking a pipe outside his Balete tree in the woodland. Ramil's long fingers and beard twitched a little, sensing a presence. His smoke screened the bird for a moment before it reappeared.

The kapre stared down at the bird. "You have been wandering around here lately. You never stay long in one place."

The bird was gone. The handsome man was now sitting beside Ramil. While earlier he was a brown bird, he now wore a black robe with intricate woven patterns made of gold that faintly glowed as he moved. Underneath, his bronzed chest was bare and inked. The black patterns, Ramil knew, extended down to his arms and wrists, and on the back of his hand and fingers. The strokes were of language long forgotten, but to Ramil and the others who came with it, they were this man's clothes. It spoke of time, of space, of nothing and something.

His dark hair was long and braided; his eyes were like the forest, deep green and filled with mystery. And his smile was as mischievous as always. "I settle now and then," he said, voice deep and wayward. "This woodland is different, is it not, Ramil, my friend?"

"I have not seen you for a while," the kapre said instead. "What business do you have here?"

The man who was not a man, nor a bird, nor anything that he may fancy to be, jumped to his feet. His robe floated softly before falling around him without sound. His smile that of mirth, his eyes glimmering with wickedness. "Adventure, that is all," he retorted before he disappeared with the wind, then visible, a maya bird, small and harmless to the eyes, but a deceptive force. An augury. "I will see you around, my old friend," his amused voice was whispered back to Ramil by the wind, leaving the kapre outside his tree, guarding the invisible doors of the Department of Lost Things.

The bird flew to the edge of the woodland and assumed a man's form once more.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he watched the human inside the Rover across the street, safe in his Vesta, staring at the woodland.

Best we head south, Avi, the spirit of the wind whispered to him. Anitun Tabu is coming, and I hate to be leashed like my sisters. She brings storms.

He refused to hear his old friend, his eyes on the human. The Opulents in the old, beaten house came to mind again, and he smiled.

Avi, the wind whined. Why are you doing this?

"This human is interesting," he said, eyes on Lucas Gaston. The man looked like he wanted to cross the street and enter the woodland. To find something, or perhaps experience something.

He is a dark storm, said the wind. Still young, but soon shall rage.

Avi smiled, deep forest green eyes glistering like the dust orbs nearby, an ember hidden beneath a storm.

"This is exciting, my friend," he said with a soft chuckle. "Isla Develler will never know what's coming for her."