The first thing I felt when I woke was pain.

  A dull, throbbing ache behind my eyes. My wrists were bound, digging against coarse rope. Wood creaked beneath me when I shifted.

  A chair.

  The air smelled faintly of roses - too sweet, almost cloying. Beneath it, dust. Old paper. Burnt ash.

  When I finally opened my eyes, I saw it.

  Bars. Thick, metallic, rusted gold. They rose high overhead and curved inward like the ribs of a cathedral until they met at a single sealed point.

  A cage.

  No.

  A birdcage.

  And outside its confines, nothing. No walls. No floor. No horizon. Just absolute black, swallowing everything beyond the bars.

  At the center of this prison was a small round table. Two chairs faced one another across it.

  I sat in one. Bound. My legs strapped to the chair, my hands tied behind my back.

  And in the chair on the other side of the table, sat someone else.

  A woman with long rose-colored hair that shimmered under the candlelight, draped in a loose crimson silk. Her bare legs crossed, one foot lazily swaying in the silence. A porcelain teacup rested in her hand, steam curling upward as if it, too, bowed to her presence. And a single hairpin - one in the shape of a black crow, adorned her hair.

  Her eyes glowed faintly red-pink. Luminous. Impossible to ignore.

  “You’re awake,” she said, sipping her tea. Her voice was smooth, confident, laced with something that didn’t belong in this world.

  “…Where am I?” My voice rasped.

  “Paradise,” she said lightly, gesturing to the cage. “Your cage. I just made myself comfortable.”

  I narrowed my eyes, deadpan as always. “…Cute name. Now who the hell are you?”

  Her lips curved into a smile, amused by my skepticism while staring into my eyes. “Straight to the point. I like that.”

  “I’m tied up in a giant birdcage. You’ll forgive me if I’m not feeling friendly.”

  She set the cup down with unhurried grace. “My name is Charlotte. You could call me… of the Veil. Not Demon, not God. Something between.”

  Her words slithered into the silence, deliberate.

  I studied her. “Of the Veil, huh. That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”

  Then looking outside, my eyes went blank, and I suddenly realised something.

  Turning back to her, I asked, “Wait, of the Veil? Does that mean…”

  Charlotte only smiled, her eyes closed thinly in an almost humorous gesture.

  “Welcome to the Veil, Damian who has no family.” She adorned a triumphant smile, as though my break of character was something to be proud of. “No need to feel frightened, the cage protects you from the things outside. Especially since you're sitting across from someone who's lived here for so long.”

  Her eyes glowed the same color as her hair, a deep shade of red that seemed to shine dimly with the single candle on the table between us.

  Suppressing my shock, I suddenly noticed her eyes, which seemed oddly familiar.

  Wait, those eyes…

  I raised my eyebrows, everything clicking together. “You were the one who possessed the Cardinal, weren’t you?”

  She only smiled widely, clapping her hands lightly as though we were playing a game that I was on the cusp of winning.

  “Correct! As astute as always. The fact that you're able to remain so calm under this situation shows I was correct in choosing you.”

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  “I feel stressed, not anxious.” I answered flatly. “When I’m stressed, everything else bothers me less. I'm able to focus and adapt better.”

  I leaned forward slightly, glaring at her. “Also, explain this. What happened before you pulled me here - when the entire hall drowned in black?”

  Her expression softened, and for once her voice dropped to something close to serious. “That wasn’t me. For the briefest of moments, I opened a gateway into the Veil so I could cross over. Centered on you. I don’t know what you saw, but… the veil clings to you like a mother to its child. It was a necessary consequence.”

  I swallowed hard.

  Yeah. That’s one way to put it.

  “And what about my pathway?” I pressed. “The one that’s already awakened?”

  Her eyes narrowed, genuinely intrigued. “That, even I cannot read. It doesn’t follow any divine schematic I know. It doesn’t belong to the Emperor, nor the Apostles, nor any lineage I’ve seen. It moves as its own entity… and it helps you willingly. I doubt even calling it a pathway would be appropriate.”

  I froze. “…So even the priest wouldn’t know?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Not a chance. Which means it’s dangerous. For both of us. It's why you’ll inherit my pathway. To keep your other power in check.”

  “What do you mean by “inherit my pathway"?”

  She smirked and her red eyes started to grow brighter.

  “This is what I mean.”

  She raised her hand. Threads of crimson light spun out from her fingers, weaving intricate shapes midair. In her irises, seals glowed faintly - spirals like galaxies of runes. Beauty and controlled chaos dancing on a red lake of infinite depth.

  Unlike the man's eyes from before, that seemed chaotic and out of control, her eyes seemed to show a beautiful control. Like every single little detail, rune and letter were under her control.

  She looked at me with those eyes, causing the world around me to still. My mind seemed to buzz, and she only smiled lightly seeing my reaction.

  “I’d like you to inherit my eyes, Damian. The Eyes of Fate.”

  The words sent a chill through me, my mind racing as I thought about her offer.

  That name… where have I heard it before?

  And then it clicked. My stomach lurched slightly, and I gained a more cautious look in my eyes as I saw Charlotte in a new light. “…You’re the Seventh Apostle.”

  Her smile sharpened. “Yes. It's been a while since I’ve heard that name. How… nostalgic.”

  I exhaled slowly. “…You’re considered a traitor to humankind, and also supposedly dead.”

  Her head tilted, amused. A sultry mocking expression adorned her face, as if she considered what I said to be utter nonsense. “Do you really believe that narrative? Do I look dead to you?”

  “…No,” I admitted. “But I’d still be cautious.”

  “Then let me show you why caution may not be enough.”

  Her pupils flared, and the world shifted.

  Suddenly I wasn’t in the cage anymore. I stood in a hallway slick with blood. Arthur lay sprawled in the center, a knife buried in his stomach and his neck slit, dried blood coating his previously white dress shirt. All around him, corpses piled high, and an eerie silence was all that was left.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  Writing in blood covered the walls, symbols that radiated unease pulsed as though they were alive. Some I did recognise, some I didn’t.

  But one thing caught my eyes especially, one simple phrase that changed everything.

  Death to the Empire. Death to all who follow it.

  And then, as suddenly as it came, the vision was gone.

  That writing… It can't be a coincidence.

  The quite literal antithesis to what the man said. It was too convenient of a time to be coincidence.

  I also had a hunch of who the culprit was.

  I only hoped I was wrong.

  Charlotte sat across from me again, sipping tea as if nothing had changed.

  “All roads,” she said calmly, “lead to the same destination. Unless you harness my power, my gift.”

  My jaw clenched. “…You’re leaving me no choice.”

  “Exactly. But you didn’t have any to begin with. Don’t worry, to everyone else it’ll seem as though you have one of the wandering pathways. You can activate my Eyes whenever you please, they remain hidden until you use them. The pathway can be a cover for them for the time being.”

  Threads of crimson mist spiraled around her fingers, patterns shifting too quickly to follow. The whole cage was covered with them now, a serene feeling coating my entire person.

  “I walk the Path of Strings. I pull the threads of fate, weave them, cut them. And now I offer it to you. An immense power. One you should feel very grateful for.”

  She got up from her seat, walking gracefully to me as the red strings floating around her parted for her. She stepped close to me, her glow filling my vision, eyes boring into mine as she grasped my face with both her hands and forced me to maintain eye contact.

  Her eyes seemed hypnotic and incomprehensible - as though they were spirits dancing inside her eyes. They seem to get more and more intense the more I stared into them, threatening to take my mind hostage.

  “So, Damian. What do you choose?”

  I smirked despite the rope biting into my wrists, staring straight back at her. “I’m tied to a chair. You’re glowing like the devil offering me a deal. And the alternative only meets with death. Doesn’t seem like much of a choice to me.”

  Her laugh was soft, almost intimate. “Good. That makes us one and the same.”

  She put a finger to her head, like she had forgotten something.

  “Oh yeah. That maid servant still hasn't come back with your water yet. Might want to check up on her.”

  A sudden wave of exhaustion started to overcome me, pulling me under.

  And as the darkness claimed me again, her whisper lingered in my ear.

  “Don’t worry, Damian. I’ll be watching, as always.”