Even as Mia left the Castle, she was left with the strangest sense that things were far from over. Of course, she had hardly expected to be hit with an overwhelming sense of finality or anything, not until she was home safe with her child, but something a little more than nothing would have been nice.

As she made her way down the little path that lead away from the castle, she could not ignore the feeling that she was being watched. It was a feeling that she was, unfortunately, used to but that did not make it any less uncomfortable. In fact, it made everything feel more uncomfortable which felt like a total loss if ever there was one. She turned back the way she came, eyes narrowed suspiciously as she looked about to try and locate on earth it was that was leaving her feeling so unsettled still. Even if she was just jumping at shadows, she had learned that there was a wiseness to this and so did not dismiss away the concerns as nothing.

It wasn't nothing. Far from it, in fact. There were shapes flying about just a little too high for her to be able to properly determine what they were specifically, but they certainly were enough to spark a concern in her. A concern that was evidently well-placed as one of the winged beasts that were a little closer to the ground let out a screech that one could only assume was a call of alarm. Not wanting to find out what that meant for her, the woman picked up her pace and hurried off to the gate that lead away from the castle.

She should have assumed the gate was locked, and yet still found herself to be disappointed to discover this to be so. Before she even finished the sigh that she began to sigh, she noticed that the padlock really was not in a particularly good state at all. With a rock that seemed sturdy enough that was at hand, she brought it down upon the lock and was delighted to discover that the rust had done its work well and it cracked with little excessive effort on her end. If only, she may have briefly thought, all locks were so easy to break.

With the lock now discarded as nothing more substantial than a scrap of rusty metal on the ground, she entered the tunnel. The first thing she noticed was that it was oddly damp, a moisture hanging oddly thick in the air in a way that set her skin crawling uncomfortably. The air was cool, however, and that brought with it a degree of reassurance, but not of the most particularly strong sort. She had spent far too long in dark, damp spaces but, well, it wasn't like there were any other options that were presented to her and so she made her way down the passageway that she had opened up for herself.

Her journey was not a particularly long one, but it seemed it was not going to get any more pleasant than it had been. The path ended in a pool of water, and it seemed that the only way out that did not involve backtracking, from what she could see through the gloom was through the water, and so, grumbling to herself she rolled her trousers up before dropping into the water that was a deal deeper than she had rolled her pants to accommodate. Worse, however, was that the water was cold enough to cause her to let out a little gasp before she was able to catch herself. It would not surprise her if the water in the pool had not ever seen the light of day, however it was just as likely to have comprised of at least a portion of melted snow, which did little to make it feel less mind numbingly cold. Before the cold made her legs lock up too severely, she forced herself to keep moving so she could get out of the water.

Mia had no sooner freed herself from the drag of the water, not yet the chill but she would dry off before too long, did she become aware of a noise. From the strange nature of the tunnel system, it felt as if someone was whispering right into her ear, but of course this was not the case, as a glance over her shoulder proved to her. Balling her hands into fists to stop herself from cringing at this, she even went so far as to pick up her speed as she moved. By the time she reached the doorway, it became clear to her that what she was hearing was a prayer, and while she was not the praying sort, she was aware that it felt oddly invasive to just stride on through the door, but there was no other alternatives.

"As the midnight moon rises on black wings, we await the light at the end," spoke the occupant of the room, a familiar voice which was a strange concept in such an unfamiliar environment, "In life and in death, glory to Mother Miranda."

"Excuse me," Mia began once she was sure the old woman had completed whatever the ritual she was undertaking, "What on earth is all this?"

"We must honour Mother Miranda in this time of darkness." the elder spoke with a distinct reverence.

"Miranda...?" echoed she, the name having popped up once again, "I still haven't found Rose. What did Mother Miranda do with her?

"You're too late!" the old woman cackled with the sort of energy that one would traditionally reserve for youth, "The child will be sacrificed. Life for life."

"Life for..." Mia exclaimed a little louder than she intended, "Whose life? She is just a baby, she shouldn't be be sacrificed! No life should be more important than another."

This won her a curious look, one that felt a great deal too probing. In a defensive manner, she folded her arms, her demeanour as blocking and closed as she could manage. She did not know what the older woman was trying to find in her, and she did not like that one little bit.

"The crests of the four bloodlines may open the path you seek." came the response, however this response was exceedingly vague.

"What crests?" Mia asked more snappily than she planned for, "What paths? What is all this? I just want to find my daughter. Can't you stop taking in riddles for once?"

"It's only a riddle if you don't know the answer." It was vague, but there was something in this that was frustratingly right even if she did not make it obvious.

With this statement declared, the old woman simply left her there in the chamber. If there was any truth to what she had been told, there would be answers hidden somewhere there, or so she presumed. A key had been left on the alter, and she decided that if it was to be an offering it might as well be an offering to her, and so she claimed it. This was the more practical discovery she made in the space, the other, however, seemed to bring some clarity to the old woman's statement.

There were carving that she could assume with a degree of certainty were crests. The first was a floral piece intersected by swords, beneath it a symbol of a stylised mermaid, opposite this was a horse surrounded by a horseshoe, and the forth depicted the sun and the moon. In the middle of all four was an umbrella symbol that she was quite sure should not be there. Once more it seemed she was to prickle uncomfortably.

Not wanting to linger much longer than she already did, she used her newly acquired key to leave. Time, it seemed, was even less kind to her than she had first expected it to be, and she had very low hopes in this regard. Even still, she could not stop to marvel at the strange sight she walked out into. The space had been cleared by human hand, set up in ceremonial manner, a large, presumably, alter in the center that seemed to be watched by the large statues of past rulers who it would be no surprise to think time had outright forgotten. Had circumstances been better, she would have loved to investigate, but instead she simply jogged past the ceremonial space without the privilege of explanation.

She had assumed the place to be old, there were more than enough information she had gathered even just in passing to suggest that the world had already moved on there and she was passing through the ghost of what had once been, but to have this impression be completely proven true was still a tad unsettling. The ruins before her seemed older than she could comfortably comprehend, but perhaps that was not the reason her musings were cut short.

A flaming arrow landed only a cluster of inches from the foot that she had just swung out to walk.

Her yelp of alarm was drowned out by a growl and, as she darted her gaze about she saw that the creature was preparing another arrow. Not wanting to trust what went for luck in her life, she broke into a run. She wasn't particularly fond of the way her joints felt like they were grinding at such a speed - It's been three years! Shouldn't she be over this by now? Shouldn't she better by now? - but she refused to slow. Not when two of the Lycans dropped down to join her. They were a great deal faster than she was, even pushing herself to the limits, and she did not want to get caught.

Thankfully, and she could thank whatever might be listening to her but she did not think there was anything watching her to thank, she managed to reach the gate without getting caught. Evidently her attackers were not the most happy with this, for while they did not follow her through the gates, one last arrow did. An arrow that was a great deal too close for comfort as it singed her sleeve.

Patting out the cloth, she had not realised she was not alone until the very last moment.

"There you are!" The Duke declared cheerily, something in his voice suggesting that he was being careful that he did not startle her too severely, "I had a feeling you would pop up here. I assume you've picked up something of value."

"I'm not sure if its valuable, but I was given this." Mia said, trying very hard to pretend she hadn't jumped a little when the man had addressed her, drawing the flask that she had hidden away in her coat.

"A successful endeavour indeed, you have your daughter right in your own hands." The man accompanied this with a slow nod of approval.

"What do you mean?" asked she, her voice understandably wary.

The Duke simply waved a hand in the direction of the flask, indicating she should find the answer herself. Swallowing the nervousness the man's comment had brought up, she used her unburnt sleeve to remove the dirt and grime that clung to the glass with a strange amount of stubbornness. The substance in the flask was murky and so all she could really determine was that it was too small to contain a full child, but fortunately the reasoning for this was written clear upon a label. A label that horrifically read 'R. Winters - Head.' along with the date. It was all she could do to not drop the glass in horror.

"What did they do to her?" she choked out, "Is she..." she had to pause, "Is she dead?"

"I think that is more your area of expertise, Mrs. Winters, than it is mine."

"What?"

"Your daughter's essence is still intact," the man continued, offering no elaboration to his previous statement, "Her powers are truly unique."

"So she is..." mumbled she, her attention wholly upon the flask as she said this, a guilt burning the back of her throat like a bile, "If she is still intact, it isn't too late to help her, right?" She hated the sheer pleading that rang in her voice, it making her sound as desperate as she really was.

"There is still time, yes," came his reply. He paused for a moment, pondering for a moment before waving a hand towards in the direction of the central village, his cigar trailing ash as he did so, "There's a house with a red chimney on the western side of the village. Go and seek out the man who lives there. Then we can continue our conversation."

"If I do, can you promise me that you will help me?" demanded she.

"I did not think keeping promises were your strong suit, but, please, you don't have to trust my words, but do you have any better options? Your choice. The customer is always right, after all." The smile upon his face as he said this was the perfect customer service smile, the sort that could almost be unsettling from the exaggerated nature that did not extend to the rest of the features.

"Is this all it is to you? A business arrangement?" asked she, and she did not even try to hide her irritation in this.

"It is a language that you speak, is it not, Mrs. Winters?"

This won a sharp intake of breath, but Mia did not dignify this comment with a reply. Instead, she simply turned to leave, following the direction that the man had indicated. She might not completely trust him, but he had helped her in a particularly runabout manner and so she would entertain his request if it meant he would give her something of a more satisfying answer.

Now, actually finding the house in question was an easy feat, it was the only house with a chimney of a shocking red after all, but getting into it was a whole different question. There was no way in, because it seemed there was someone there with the good sense to lock the gate behind them in a place frequently overrun by monsters, and so it wasn't going to make it easy for her, but she was stubborn enough to keep running about to find her way in.

Oh, and running about was no exaggeration. By the time she dropped down the hole in the roof of the house in question, she could have sworn she had travelled everywhere there was in the whole village. To make matters worse, her head had begun to ache just enough for her to be aware of it, and also be aware that she had no way to combat it if it got any worse.

She had been sent off to find the person who owned the house, but it seemed completely empty. With all things considered, this should not have been a surprise but it still felt more empty than everywhere else she had been. But she was there, and she'd be damned if she was to be leaving empty handed. Upon the table, a journal caught her eye, hoping it might offer something in the way of explanation

The most recent journal entries, those of interest, read as follows:

'February 1st

Sacrificed two goats to Mother Miranda.

February 3rd

Offered wool to Mother Miranda. She instructed I find her a list of drugs and tools in the next few days. What for, I wonder?

February 8th

No messages from Mother Miranda. Yet the livestock won't stop their ruckus.

February 9th

I was instructed to take the items to the cave church at sunrise. But what I saw was… frightful. The great Four Lords were there and Mother Miranda was holding a child. She whispered something and touched the child… I can't explain it well but… the child… turned into a white crystal? Then… then… she… I couldn't help but speak up and I asked her why she did such a thing. Mother Miranda just smiled at me. "This is the chosen child. She will return to her original form no matter what befalls her." Then she gave each lord a part of the crystal in a flask and they left. I forgot to bow to Mother Miranda before I fled. I'm still shaking. What did she do? What is that child?'

Mia did not like the answers that were to be found in the journal.

Alongside the journal was a little box with a key inside and a note, reading 'The Winged Key is just a single piece. Three more parts are needed to make it whole.' with a simple diagram of how to complete the key. She had, she noticed, part of the key which she combined as per the instructions.

With a shaky breath, she left the house with the red chimney. She briefly wished she had not read the journal at all, and while there was nothing to specify that it really was her child that was being discussed, she was absolutely certain this was the case, and so, burdened with this knowledge she made her way back to where The Duke was waiting for her.

"How did it go?" asked he, calling this in greeting, "Did you find anything?"

"I found a key," came her reply, the shrug evident in her voice even if he had not seen her do so, "So please, can we discuss this properly so I can fix this?"

"It is not so very easy, Mrs. Winters, but you are an intelligent woman so I am sure you came to this conclusion on your own," he said, though there was something to this that seemed like he was waving her off, "Before you can fix anything, you need to fetch the remainder of the flasks."

"Where are they?"

"Including the one in your possession, there are four flasks in total. Each have been given to the care of the Lords." This was not as straight forward as he made it sound.

"Lords?" Mia echoed with confusion.

"Quite," said he, smoothening the blanket he had rested over his lap, "Mother Miranda is the cold, calculating ruler of this village but she does not rule alone. Her children, the four Lords serve under her. The first you've already met, the lady Dimitrescu, and I must say it was a surprise to see you leave unharmed, not many are given the same privilege. The second lives deep in a valley of mist, the doll maker Donna Beneviento, none of her playmates have ever come back from that dank, old estate, and I would not dare wonder what it is that kept them from their lives. The third is Moreau, a being of twisted flesh that lives in the reservoir past the windmills, it's said that he is not the only monster that lives in those waters but those who spend their days upon the water are often inclined to share stories. The fourth and most dangerous is Heisenberg, he works in his factory on the village outskirts. And the project? Let's just say parts of the human imagination are better left alone."

The man paused, turning into his wagon to rummage about. He did not make it clear what he was looking for, but raised a hand to stop her when Mia went to question him. Eventually he turned back to her, a decently sized map in his hands, which he busies himself marking.

"If you truly wish to save your daughter, you must first gather the four flasks. I've marked the Lords' locations on this map, they will lead you to where you need to go." Was there something sincere in the smile he gave as he handed the map to her?

"Why are you doing this?" Mia asked, taking the map that he offered her, watching him intently as if she thought he might give something away, but he didn't. His façade was as perfect as always.

"It is as you said, Mrs. Winters. It is a business arrangement."