Hi Everyone! I know it's been awhile-my weekends (and usual writing times) have been quite busy lately. I (finally) have another installment ready to go. Another section where I'm testing the limits of a Teen rating. I "think" this is still ok for Teen rating, but it does go a little dark-just warning you ahead of time. It's also all OC's this chapter-if you are missing the cannon characters, don't worry-they will be back soon. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Of all the things Eostre had to worry about right now, not being able to tell very much about her surroundings made things even worse. She still had no idea where she was, or where Mystios was taking her. The post-rain clouds obscured the moon, leaving the path they were on in almost total darkness.

It didn't seem to faze her silent companion though. He maintained a grim silence as he propelled her down the path, gripping the ropes wrapped around her arms and torso like he was holding a dog by the collar. When she wasn't going fast enough for his liking, he would yank her forward, forcing her to keep pace or fall flat on her face.

It was like being dragged through a pitch black maze. She could discern the path she was on was gravel since she could hear the tell-tale crunch. She could also hear the rustling of leaves on both sides of the path, indicating the path was meandering through a forest.

Eostre mentally went down the danger checklist. Ruthless captor, check, alone in the remote woods, check, tied up, check. No hope of rescue, double check. She'd seen the movies, read the true crime stories. The only way this setup ended was with the victim's death—and probably unimaginable horrors before that event occurred.

She fought the irrational edges of panic. Keeping the status quo would avail her nothing—except continue the cycle of abduction and death. The only way she had to avert it was to do something herself. Her gaze pierced the darkness, attempting to size up Mystios once more. He was nothing but a shadow in the darkness. His footsteps on the gravel so light and near silent that if he wasn't actively holding onto her ropes she might not have even known he was there.

To attempt to fight him would be suicide. She could hear Ardyn's taunting, "no offense, but your combat skills leave something to be desired," insult in her head, and almost laughed hysterically. He was right. She couldn't do shit. All she could do was kill innocent old women or the direly ill. Put her against someone able-bodied, and she could do nothing. She was nothing but a liability right now, a damsel in distress.

A damsel who would stay in distress if she stood here lamenting her incompetence, her inner voice cut into her despairing thoughts icily. If fighting was out, then running was in. There were no man-eating piranhas here. She might stand a chance. If she could somehow break free of Mystios's grasp and run into the surrounding forest, she could hide from him. But also get lost herself, she thought, momentarily defeated. However, being lost and alone was still better than the current setup.

All she would need was one sudden move…

On instinct, she made it, suddenly twisting her body. The tautness of the rope gave Mystios little choice but to let go for a single moment, which was all Eostre needed. She sprinted towards where she thought the trees were, with only her inner sense of where her own limbs and the ground were for guidance. She had no idea the head start she had, or how soon Mystios would catch up. The fact that he hadn't yet gave her hope that she could make it.

She wobbled as she ran, her arms tied to her sides making her movement ungainly. However, the too short skirt saved her, keeping the folds of the gown clear of her ankles so as to not block her movement. If the gown had fit properly, she would have tripped and fallen the first step she tried to make.

Eostre gasped in fright when the leaves brushed her face, the vegetation cold and slimy from the recent rain. She had made it to the woods…the pitch dark woods.

Except, the woods were no longer pitch dark. A pair of red lights flickered in the darkness before her, too evenly spaced to be natural. Even as she halted for a moment, trying to decipher what she was seeing, another pair appeared, and another. As the lights began moving towards her, she realized her mistake. They were not lights, they were eyes. Eyes like daemons…

"No, impossible," she told herself desperately. The daemons had to be gone. Noctis had eradicated them.

The moon cleared the clouds just a moment, enough to allow Eostre to better see who, or what, she was dealing with. And she didn't like what she saw. Even daemons had defining features—these beings had none. They were nothing but human-shaped black misty shadows with red eyes glaring unblinkingly at her. Six of them were gathered in a semi-circle in front of her, blocking any further progress into the woods, even if she were brave enough to try.

This was worse than Mystios. At least he was flesh and blood. These beings were, something beyond her understanding. And seeing as she had spent ten years in darkness with daemons, that was saying a lot. Her knees beneath her gown knocked together in fear as she processed her superstitious horror of what was coming towards her.

"Tresssspasssser," the word began swirling around her in stereo, becoming louder and more insistent as the beings approached.

What would they do to her when they reached her? What would happen if they touched her? Her blood was ice in her veins, matching the cold sweat frosting her body. The woods was no longer feasible—she was better off on the path! She turned and ran, hoping like hell she was running back towards the path. She whimpered as she felt those slimy leaves on her face—or were they the beings touching her?

It was with sudden relief that she heard the familiar crunch of her feet on the gravel path. And almost on cue Mystios grabbed her rope once again and began pulling her forward.

"I didn't even have to chase you," Mystios taunted. "I knew you'd come crawling back to me in terror."

Eostre stiffened at the condescension. Now she knew why he had not caught up to her—he knew full well what lurked in those woods, and assumed she'd return on her own without him having to lift a finger. "Those, weren't daemons. What the hell were they," she demanded of her captor, tones more breathless with fright than she wanted.

Mystios chuckled derisively, the sound muffled by his cowl. "Not daemons. Merely cursed souls doomed to walk this island for all eternity," he added with relish.

"You're saying this island is haunted," Eostre demanded more forcefully, fright beginning to give way to anger, only to break off with a gasp as she felt a sharp pain as Mystios grabbed her hair and gave it a ruthless yank.

"I told you if you ran, I would drag you by that hair," Mystios growled. "And I'm a man of my word," he added in tones of dark menace. "If I get one more peep out of you, just one more, I may conveniently forget my employer's request to bring you in alive."

Eostre subsided into silence. She had tried and failed to escape. She was trapped on an island of horrors. All that remained was finding out who Mystios's employer was, and what they planned to do to her before killing her. She was beginning to know what an animal being led to the slaughter felt like.

Just when Eostre could stand the suspense no longer, and was about ready to risk Mystios's wrath by screaming, they rounded a bend. The sudden light was dazzling. Eostre blinked, attempting to digest the change of scene. The path was now lit by gas lamps, the ivory gravel path making its way through an iron gate into a weed-choked courtyard, which in turn gave way to a stone building that had lights coming from seemingly every arched leaded-glass window.

And there were many windows, three stories worth, with towers on the ends that stretched even higher. The fact that Eostre had not been able to see the lights from the water or woods showed how tall the surrounding trees were. It was as though a giant, sprawling building had been placed among even larger surroundings to keep it in scale.

It was a building lost in time amid nature. A rambling old castello that would have fit right into a tale of gothic horror. If Eostre had been attempting to design a haunted house, this would be the building to use, she thought in passing, before recalling that they were nearing the end of their journey. She felt the stab of icy fear again like a blade in the gut.

Mystios dragged her forward to the sweeping front steps of the massive vaulted portico with such force that Eostre tripped on the marble stairs. It was only Mystios's ruthless grasp on her rope that kept her from falling. The new light source didn't do Mystios any favors, Eostre realized. The black garb and cowl still obscured his features. If she ever had to describe him to anyone, she'd be at a loss.

The easily ten-foot high wooden front door creaked open on rusty hinges as they approached, as if the inhabitants had been waiting for them.

Like a prisoner already looking for a way out, Eostre's gaze swept the room, sizing up what she had to deal with. It seemed to be a great hall, the floor patterned with chipped black and white checkered marble. Grimy glass chandeliers graced the ceiling, making the bright (at least compared to outside) light hazy. It didn't seem to bother the inhabitants of the room though. Just as parties were going on in town, it appeared that the castello was also celebrating.

The gigantic wooden banquet table in the center of the room was lined with plates of food, piled extravagantly high. Jeweled goblets filled with wine and other liquors ringed the table, being periodically picked up and drained by the party-goers. The liquor wasn't being genteelly sipped—it was being guzzled in abandon as though the guests wanted to get blackout drunk.

The dancing couples, perhaps doing way more intimate things than dancing, were kicking up clouds of dust from the floor that had evidently not been swept in ages.

Those eating, drinking, and "dancing" were doing so with fevered, almost desperate gaiety. The very decadence trying to mask ugly reality.

Eostre couldn't tell what that reality was, but she could feel it oozing from the faded floral wallpaper, settling in alongside the dust. The dust and grimy light washed out the partygoers, making them all pale, lifeless. Automatons forced to party for all eternity.

Pale, dull-eyed woman not currently engaged in dancefloor activities lounged on sofas, the dresses they were wearing so revealing as to be almost indecent. They looked at her with lethargic, almost soulless gazes before turning their attention to the men ogling them.

The men were ogling Eostre too, as though just by setting foot in here she had become fair game for something awful. Like sharks, they had sensed fresh blood in the water and wanted a taste. Eostre's hands, still secured by the rope around her waist, clenched.

She felt a wave of distaste as one of the men detached himself from the crowd and strode in their direction. The black tuxedo with white gloves he was wearing could have belonged to a butler or to an extravagantly-dressed guest. Eostre wasn't sure at this point which was worse.

His dark dispassionate gaze swept over her then turned to Mystios. "So, you succeeded," he intoned coolly. "Master Reynardo will be most pleased."

Eostre's ears perked up in recognition. Reynardo was Mystios's employer? What did he want with her? Given what she had seen so far, she knew it wasn't anything good. The end of her journey was near. She had to do what she could to delay the inevitable as long as possible until she could make other plans. She would be conciliatory so as not to antagonize Reynardo, she decided. Keep him affable, and preferably talking, as long as possible. But she sure as shit wouldn't beg.

"I never fail," Mystios returned. "Tell him I'm here and brought what he asked for."

"He's, indisposed at the moment. You might want to wait," the tuxedoed man, evidently some type of servant, replied.

"The longer I have to wait, the more you have to pay me. And I hate being kept waiting," Mystios returned coldly.

"I can keep you, occupied," one of the lounging women cooed to Mystios. He ignored her, and the servant merely waved them to the doorway at the back of the room.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," the servant muttered darkly as Mystios tugged Eostre through the doorway, making her dread what she was going to see behind that door.

Based on the long narrow threadbare red-carpeted hallway leading to a dais topped with a red velvet chair, evidently it was supposed to be a throne room. And the man seated in the chair with a shirtless well-toned man in his lap was evidently supposed to be its king, no doubt Reynardo.

Reynardo's face was currently buried in his companion's neck, so Eostre couldn't get a good look. Not that she wanted to—she didn't want to know what he was doing. To each their own, but she wanted no part of it.

"Are you going to pay me now or later," Mystios calmly stated to Reynardo, as usual undismayed by his surroundings.

At least it served to prevent Reynardo from doing anything even more graphic to the man in his lap. Reynardo looked up with insolent leisure, fixing his amethyst gaze onto the both of them.

By now, Eostre was used to unique looking men, men who couldn't blend in with the crowd. Ardyn was the epitome of that. Reynardo would give Ardyn a run for his money though. Reynardo's hair was a pale unearthly lavender, somewhere between platinum blonde and purple, and flowed down to mid-back. It was evidently unruly as he tossed his head with a girlish gesture to get some of it out of his face.

His face was narrow, clean-shaven, pale, delicately featured. If any man could be called, "pretty" it would be him. Except for his mouth. His blood-red lips were thin and cruel. They were currently set in an appraising smirk that made her skin crawl.

He was dressed in garb that would have been fashionable a few hundred years ago. Ice blue satin evening coat, matching breeches that showed every muscle of his legs as they tapered to white silk hose culminating with silver/white high heeled leather shoes. He was even wearing a cravat for goodness sake!

Eostre didn't know if it was a masquerade costume or part of his normal garb. She didn't want to know. For all that he appeared delicate, she knew a threat when she saw one.

"Leave us, Spiritus," the man commanded in a high pitched, almost effeminant voice to the man on his lap and proceeded to shove his companion ruthlessly off of him. Eostre watched appalled as the man, evidently named Spiritus, tumbled down the four steps of the dais to lie in a crumpled heap at the foot of the stairs.

Eostre was still bound, so could do nothing to help him. However, every instinct she possessed urged her to try. Even as she was wrestling with that, Spiritus rose stiffly to his feet. As Eostre met his gaze, she stiffened as she saw the twin marks of blood trailing down his neck.

Spiritus seemed unfazed, merely wiping the marks with the back of his hand and sashaying out of the room, leaving just Eostre, Mystios, and Reynardo.

Eostre's wasn't unfazed though. Her gaze flew back to the man on the throne. "Don't tell me you're some kind of vampire," she spat out, plans to stay conciliatory momentarily forgotten in the wake of what she had just seen.

Reynardo wiped his lips with a handkerchief, rolled his eyes in contempt, and batted his lace-wristed hands dismissively. "Oh, please, how cliché," he drawled derisively. "You don't really believe in vampires, do you?"

"After what I saw in your woods, I don't know what to believe. You tell me," Eostre replied, marveling at how cool her voice was amid all of this.

Reynardo laughed, a musical chuckle. "Oh, so you have met some of my loyal subjects, have you? How nice. I however, have not met you yet. Come, let us get, better acquainted."

He rose his long-fingered hand, beckoning her forward. He didn't really think she would voluntarily come anywhere near him, did he? It was a moot point though. Mystios, the loyal shadow, was there. He grabbed her rope again and shoved her forward so roughly that she tripped on the dais stairs as Spiritus had, landing hard on her knees before Reynardo, face to face with his gaudy shoes.

"A woman on her knees before me? Ooh la la, I like this," Reynardo gloated with amusement, cupping her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze.

Eostre shivered in revulsion and instinctively tried to twist her head away. Reynardo retaliated by grabbing her hair even more viciously than Mystios had done. Mystios had tugged it to prove a point then let it go. Reynardo was using it as a leash to hold her.

"What beautiful hair you have," Reynardo crooned. "Your rose compliments my lavender so nicely." He punctuated this comment by taking a lock of his hair and caressing her hair with it. He followed on by picking up a chunk of her hair alongside his and running it through his fingers. "Yes, indeed. I bet I could charge high prices for you," he added.

On her knees with her hands bound, Eostre couldn't claw his face off like she wanted to, or even scramble away. She felt a rise of bile, and swallowed it with an effort.

Reynardo's attention mercifully left her for a moment to return to Mystios, who was still standing behind her.

"You never disappoint, Mystios," Reynardo said affably. "Well, maybe you do in the fact that you have never been willing to use your garrote on me even just a little," he pouted.

"If I did, you'd be dead," Mystios returned matter of factly.

"Oh, pooh, I can, take a lot," Reynardo returned mysteriously. "And how fun that would be. Nobody else here can do it as well as you, I wager."

"I'd do it too quickly for your liking," Mystios replied repressively.

Eostre had had enough of this conversation. There was staying silent to stall, then there was this. "Unless you want vomit on your shoes, you should change the topic, now," she ordered, voice taut with control as she forced her nausea down with an effort.

"Oooh—domineering, are we," Reynardo cooed in interest. However, he quickly crossed his legs to get the foot closest to her out of the way. It also got him to change the subject at least.

"I suppose your skills are better suited elsewhere," he told his mercenary affably. "Were you followed," he added with sudden intensity.

Mystios shrugged. "It depends on how much of a head start I had. I'm not particularly worried though. I'll take care of anyone who tries."

"Oooh so badass," Reynardo replied with a mock shudder. "I don't like surprise guests though. Be a dear and sweep the path, will you? Don't worry about the woods. My, companions, will take care of that. Oh! And while you're there, can you return to the pier to grant safe passage to our guest? I wouldn't want him to end up in the woods."

"You're adding items to my scope of work. That will cost you," Mystios replied.

"Right! I forgot you are my employee, not loyal subject," Reynardo replied, aggrieved. "There's another hundred thousand gil in it for you," he added enticingly.

"Hmph. Fine. I still think you should let me burn the pier and the boat rather than let him land. He will play you false," Mystios warned him.

"How do you figure that? Those devoted to the light never lie," Reynardo queried in interest.

"They might if they know the other party is devoted to darkness," Mystios replied darkly. "Believe me, he is not on your side. If he doesn't strike you down now, he will later. I'd hate to lose one of my regular employers."

"Oh, you do care for me! I'm so flattered," Reynardo cooed in delight. "I know how to deal with him. Just wait and see. For now, do as I tell you. The sooner you leave, the more time I have to, play, with my guest while we wait."

Eostre saw how Reynardo had, played, with Spiritus. And had already experienced a slight taste of it herself in the minute or so she had been in Reynardo's chaperoned grasp. It was enough. She could not be alone with him. She turned her head to frantically meet Mystios's gaze in a last desperate appeal for assistance. She shouldn't have been foolish enough to even think he would help her, but he was the only left who could stall what was coming. And at least he was ruthlessly efficient rather than a depraved sadist. She'd rather take her chances with him.

It was a longshot at best, but for one second, Eostre thought maybe it would pay off. The mercenary's dark gaze that met her desperate one was hard to read, but it seemed for one moment that there was a flash of concern in it. However, it returned to its customary aloofness. He turned swiftly and left the room, leaving Eostre alone with Reynardo, who would torture her, or worse, just because he could; and would no doubt enjoy every second of it.

Did I mention already that Reynardo is a fiend? Given that a crime boss finds him revolting and is willing to work with Ardyn to have him killed, I trapped myself into having to show why, thus the depravity. I feel bad putting Eostre into his power, but them's the breaks. Until next time everyone-hope to have more soon.