-1Twisted Kingdom

The chalice was shattered.

Once, it had been filled with a red liquid, blood, a pattern of spider webs cascading across its stem to its cup, sitting high upon a throne of black marble. The chalice cracked. Blood seeped onto the pristine throne, tainting it. And then in shattered, glass tinkling to the floor in thousands of tiny shards, only to be swept up by a invisible wind, ruining any chance of reconstruction. Only the stem remained, defiant, solid and alone.

Jaenelle eyed the stem and its surrounding pool of blood in curiosity. She reached out to it slowly, intently, focused only on the dulled glass. A sudden hiss from behind the throne made her hesitate.

"Hello," she called softly, hand still outstretched.

Gold eyes blazed in the darkness, swirling in fury and in fear. Another hiss. A dark hand swung out and knocked Jaenelle's pale one away.

"Don't touch. No one touches," the shadowed person said quietly. A female voice. "Once touched, now broken. The chalice is shattered."

Jaenelle stepped back respectfully and bowed her head in silent apology. "How long?"

The girl was silent for a long moment. "Centuries. Seventeen hundred years."

Jaenelle frowned. "How?"

The eyes blazed brighter. "He was a bad man. He touched. He broke."

"Who did?"

"Not my father. Not him. He lied. He was never him. And Uncle."

Jaenelle took a sudden step forward. "I can help you," she said urgently.

The shadow laughed harshly. "No one can help me. The chalice is shattered. The pieces are missing." The eyes misted over, then blinked rapidly.

"But the foundation is still there. Its still strong. I'll find the missing pieces and we can put it back together," the witch-child assured. "You don't have to stay here."

"Here is all I know. I'm safe here. Everyone wants the body. They can have the body. The body hurts too much. I don't hurt here. Here I am wanted."

"but there must be someone who wants you home? Someone who loves you?"

"Only one. But he can't keep me safe. He couldn't before... No. I am home."

"Who?"

Silence.

"Please, tell me."

"My brother... Lucivar."

The throne the girl hid behind began to shake. Plaster rained down from the high ceiling. A low moaning seemed to seep from the walls of the ruined church.

"I've told you too much! Go now! You must leave! We've disturbed them! Go!" The girl rushed from the shadows, urging Jaenelle away.

Her black hair was tangled and disheveled, falling into her face and around her shoulders in knotted strands. Her gold eyes were slanted and glazed over, a crazed look in them, her full lips twisted in an eternal grimace. Her dark brown skin contrasted greatly against the witch-child's paleness.

"But-" Jaenelle protested.

Her dark, membranous wings unfurled, stretching out to their fullest extent, and batted angrily. "Get out!" she hissed. And then with a small whimper, "Please..."

The ground began to split at the throne. The moaning grew to a deafening howl. Jaenelle nodded. The girl turned back to the darkness.

"Wait!" she called. The girl turned back slightly. "I'm Jaenelle."

The girl stared at her blankly. "Euterpe... Euterpe SaDiablo."

She melted into the shadows without another word. Jaenelle couldn't ignore the cracks that were steadily growing closer any longer. With another glance at the throne, she turned and disappeared as well.

Terreille

"Prince? Can I talk to you?" Jaenelle said abruptly, staring up at him over the top of her book.

Daemon placed his book down on the table, crossed his legs and leaned back into the plush couch. "Of course, Lady. What's on your mind?"

"Do you know a girl named Euterpe SaDiablo?"

The Hayllian male tensed visibly. "How do you know her?" he said quietly, fighting to remain calm.

Jaenelle leaned forward eagerly, her book falling into her lap unnoticed. "So its true? She's Lucivar's sister? She looks so much like him."

Daemon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "They're twins. But he hasn't seen her in centuries. Not since they were little."

"But you have, haven't you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." He paused for a moment, gathering himself. "I knew who she was the moment she stepped into Dorothea's court. They passed her off as Dorian SaDiablo's half-Eyrien daughter, but I knew she wasn't. OH, she was a SaDiablo- we have the same father, after all- but they didn't know that. And they certainly didn't treat her like one."

"What do you mean?"

"She was basically a servant girl. They dressed her in rags, gave her chores of a Hearth Witch... abused her... I shouldn't be telling you this, Jaenelle; you're too young." He shook his head slightly before standing to leave.

"Daemon, I am not too young. Please, finish the story. I need to know why she is in the Twisted Kingdom."

He glanced at her sharply. "You've been wandering around in the Twisted Kingdom again?!" he growled. "Jaenelle, you can't save her. She's been in there for too long. And what they did to her... She'll never heal."

"Well, I can at least try!"

"You don't understand!" He slammed his fist through a wall. "They cut off her wings! And Eyrien is nothing without her wings." At her stricken look, her removed his hand from the wall and stalked to the door. "Dorian was set on breaking her, and he succeeded. She was only fourteen and he cut off her wings. He speared her and then gave her to his friends as a pet." He grimaced, gold eyes blazing in memory. "She would have died if I hadn't gotten to her. Sometimes I think that would have been best. But she was my sister, too."

"What happened to the friends?"

He smiled ruefully, sadistically. "I made sure that they would have no desire to touch a little girl again."

"And Dorian?"

"I killed him."

Hell

"Are you ready for your lesson, witch-child?" Saetan smiled at the young girl from behind his desk.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, sure," she said distractedly. "Wait- what- did you just say something?

His smile faltered, eyebrows furrowing in concern. "Is everything all right, witch-child?"

She fidgeted, refusing to meet his eyes. "No, well, I suppose... I have this friend who needs help, but I don't know if I should help her because she says she doesn't want help but I know she does and the Prince says I shouldn't and that I can't but I know I can but I'm not so sure its worth it if I'll only be helping her into something worse but it would make Lucivar happy and I think the Prince, too. What do you think, Saetan?" she said in a rush before plopping herself into a chair.

Needing a moment to process her words, he took a sip of his wine. "Well, who is this friend of yours and what is her problem?"

More fidgeting. "Her name is Euterpe." She paused, waiting for any sign of recognition. When none came, she went on, "She's Lucivar's sister."

"I never knew Lucivar had a sister. Older or younger?" He took another sip of wine.

"They're twins."

Wine sprayed in all directions, splattering the desk, papers and Jaenelle's white dress in its redness. "What?!" he sputtered, coughing and shaking. The room tilted back and forth, the edges of his vision graying. "But that would mean she's-"

"Your daughter?"

"Mother Night, I have a daughter." And with that, the High Lord of Hell, Saetan SaDiablo, slumped in his chair, the shock having knocked him unconscious.

Terreille

Prick? The thought was sent along the ebon-gray thread, a telepathic whisper. Daemon felt an answering surge of power.

What is it, Bastard? a tired voice answered. Lucivar was in no mood to chat.

Jaenelle found her… Euterpe.

That's not possible; she's too well hidden.

Not here. Not in Terrielle. She's been found in the Twisted Kingdom. Jaenelle wants to bring her out, and I don't know if I want to stop her.

Lucivar sighed longingly. It will do no good… She wont be able to handle it.

Then why did we keep her alive? To let her live there for her years, in that dark place? What has all of this been for?

Daemon, I- but what if she hates us? What if she can't live with the knowledge…

We'll deal with it when it comes. It'll be her decision then.

There was a long pause, where Lucivar thought. He pulled at his chains and stretched his wings as far as they could go. Let Cat heal her if she can. Mother Night help me, but I want my sister back.

So do I, Prick. So do I.