The manor was old and crooked, its windows smashed in, its oak door blackened with grime and moss. The scent of wet wood seeped from the walls, thick with age, while vines curled over the stone like veins feeding a long-dead heart.
"What is this place?" Remy asked, eyeing the stagnant pond in front of them. Carp floated at the surface, lifeless. One was black with a white underbelly; the other white with a black underbelly. They drifted in slow circles, as if locked in an eternal dance even in death.
"Why don't we take those for food?" Remy muttered. He'd learned never to waste a meal, no matter the source.
"Pfft… do that, and Kat might kill you," Tear laughed, striding toward the door.
But instead of opening it, Tear moved to a side wall, brushing away a strand of ivy to reveal the brickwork. He began counting softly."One… two… three… seven."
Bang! Bang! Bang! He rapped sharply on a brick.
"What are you doing?" Remy asked, already beginning to regret following him.
"Shh." Tear pressed a finger to his lips.
He knocked a few more times, then paused at a hollow-sounding stone that rang like a muted chime. With a sly smile, he pressed it inward. The stone clicked, revealing a small lever. Tear pulled it, then stepped back as a series of heavy clanks echoed from within the door—hidden locks shifting one by one.
At the final clang, the door's handle twisted into place, revealing a smaller, more intricate one. Tear reached into his coat, producing a tiny key. He slipped it into the keyhole, turned it three times, and a deep metallic snap resounded. The door eased backward a fraction.
"Welcome to our humble abode," Tear said, gesturing with the exaggerated grace of a butler.
Remy hesitated, then stepped inside.
Darkness swallowed him whole. He could see nothing ahead. The door closed behind them with a thud, and the last trace of light vanished. A chill ran the length of his spine.Fck. I might have just walked into a trap.*
Almost instantly, a hand settled on his shoulder."If you don't want to wander these passages endlessly," Tear whispered, "do not let go of me."
"Wait—what?" But Tear was already moving. Instinctively, Remy caught the hem of his coat.
"Ahhh… hmmm…"
As they moved, the darkness breathed with sound—groans, low and ragged, as though the walls themselves were in pain. Shapes shifted in the black, their movements brushing the edge of hearing. Remy couldn't tell if they walked for minutes or hours. The air was damp, and every step felt like wading deeper into something alive.
Still, he did not cower. Fear would not change the outcome—it was only wasted thought.
"Ow—" Remy bumped into Tear's back.
"Here we are," Tear said at last, pushing open a door. Warm light spilled over them.
"Tear! You're here!"
A blur of motion struck him, arms wrapping tight around his middle.
"Come now, Kat," Tear chuckled, returning the embrace. "I wasn't gone that long."
She was a young girl with blonde hair tied into high pigtails, a sprinkling of freckles over light skin, and bright green eyes. A short velvet dress and long white socks ended in heavy black boots.
His sister? Remy guessed.
"Hey—who are you?" Kat asked, tilting her head in a curious angle.
"I… I'm Remy," he stammered.
"Let us in, brat," Tear said, stepping past her into the room.
Remy followed, his eyes widening. The space glowed with a warm orange light from gas lamps hanging beneath a golden chandelier. Portraits lined the walls, their eyes following him with silent judgment.
Bookshelves towered at the far end, crammed with volumes. Remy froze—he had never seen a book before, let alone an entire shelf full of them.
From the far end of the hall, two more figures emerged from the shadows.
"Yeah… you're finally back, Tear," one of them said, his tone half-scolding, half-relieved.
"Oh my, such a foul-mouthed child. Clearly rabble," Tear teased, his fingers daintily covering his mouth in mock offense.
"I'm not a child," the boy snapped. "I can finally control the Mystic!" His voice swelled with pride.
"Yes, yes—Clara told me," Tear replied, waving it off. "Now, come closer. We have a newcomer."
The two figures approached, their steps echoing against the polished floor. Remy saw they were both boys around his age.
"This here is Remy. He'll be joining us from now on," Tear said, gesturing toward him. Kat's gaze hadn't left Remy since they'd entered, and her unwavering stare made him uneasy. He was used to people watching him because of the mask he once wore, but now—with nothing to hide behind—they saw his face, his true self.
"And this," Tear continued, "is Chadwick. You can just call him Chad."
Chad wore an orange hooded coat, patched in several places from long use. Beneath it was a loose brown jacket, the same earthy tone as his oversized trousers. A black bracelet with a large emerald hung from his belt. His curly hair framed warm, brown skin, and the beginnings of a beard darkened his cheeks. His eyes were a vibrant green.
"Hello," Chad said.
"Hi," Remy replied.
"And finally, this is Charles."
Charles was about the same height as Remy, but broader in the shoulders. His short silver hair was slicked back neatly, and a single scar cut across one of his sharp green eyes. His clothing echoed Tear's style almost exactly—save for the deep purple fabric that dominated his outfit.
Charles met Remy's gaze with an unblinking stare.What's with this guy? Does he want a fight? Remy thought, narrowing his own eyes in return.
"Oh-ho, easy now," Tear said, stepping between them. "Why don't you go get dinner ready? We're famished."
The three children slipped away toward another part of the house, disappearing behind one of the many doors that lined the hall. Each door seemed to lead somewhere different, some to brightly lit rooms, others to dim corridors that twisted into darkness.
Now alone, Tear threw himself onto a nearby sofa with a dramatic sigh. Remy took the seat opposite him. Between them sat a low table bearing a silver tray and a steaming kettle.
"Tea?" Tear offered.
"No," Remy said flatly. "Now tell me—where is my mother?" His voice was tight, deliberate.
"Well," Tear began, pouring himself a cup, "even if I told you, there's nothing you could do about it right now." He paused, watching the steam curl from his tea. "But… I know you won't be satisfied with that answer, so I'll tell you. Your mother was captured by the Saint of Summer. She's somewhere in the capital. Going there alone would be suicide. My advice? Work with us. Soon, we'll be striking the capital, and then you'll have your chance to rescue her. If you join us, we'll even teach you to defend yourself properly with Mystic—instead of the half-hazard, borrowed force you're using now."
Tear's gaze lingered on him. If he tries to force his way into the dungeons, maybe he'll make it that far. But at the rate his body's breaking under that power… he'll die before he even reaches her.
Remy stood in silence, his thoughts heavy.
"What exactly is it that you do?" he finally asked.
"We liberate people in situations like yours," Tear said, setting his cup down. "Our goal is to ensure humans live as humans—not as livestock for the Celestials. We will bring a new dawn to this world."