Sylvia wasn't stupid. Sheltered, yes—her life had always been wrapped in silk and whispers—but stupid? No, not in the slightest. It was fine if she'd been fooled by Damon. It was alright if he had lied to her, if he had deceived her. She could live with that. But she would not be made a fool of by someone else. Not again. Not so easily. That's why she didn't sleep. Not a wink. Her eyes remained closed, yes—but her mind was alert. Waiting. Watching. She didn't even know what time it was—truth be told, it was nearly impossible to tell in the Whispering Forest. Sure, she could've used her skill, but… it wasn't worth it. Not this time. Not after the last revelation. She was already losing her sight. Slowly, she lifted her head from the soft pillow, her breath calm but her body tense. Her neck turned slightly—just enough to glance at the bed beside hers. Evangeline was already up, sword in hand. Of course she was. On the beds next to theirs, Leona and Matia stirred, neither asleep. They met Sylvia's gaze. No words were exchanged. None were needed. They all understood. As if they'd ever trust the kindness offered in the heart of the Whispering Forest. Not without reason. If Damon were conscious, he'd be just as paranoid. Probably more. They rose carefully from their beds, still wearing the simple pajamas Bel had given them, weapons in hand. Their footsteps were silent—ghostlike—as they moved. Evangeline took the lead, rapier gleaming faintly under the fire light on the walls. Behind her, Matia moved beside Sylvia, holding her hand gently—because Sylvia was only partially blind now. She had used her power again… just to ask the book a small question. A harmless one, really: What clues exist about Bel? But even that had cost her something. The price was rising. She didn't want to push her luck. Not again. At the rear, Leona moved silently, her stance ready for a fight. They crept out into the hallway. The door next to theirs was where Xander and Damon were resting. Evangeline stepped up, hand raised to knock— —but the door opened before her knuckles touched wood. Xander stood there, his spear already in hand. Damon was unconscious on his back, and the great axe hovered beside them under his control. His gaze narrowed at the girls. "I don't like this," he muttered. "Snooping around is… dishonorable. Especially after the hospitality we've been shown." Sylvia turned her head toward him. Her eyes, now milky and dull, glimmered with disdain. She sneered, her words sharp, something Damon himself might've said. "You know what's honorable? Not dying in our sleep." Leona raised a brow. "That… that was the most Da- number one…. thing I've ever heard anyone else say." She stopped herself from saying his name. Sylvia gave a short nod. "Thank you. I was trying to be a jerk." Matia crouched slightly, wings low, expression uneasy. "Do we really have time for this? Let's either find something creepy… or get out of here." Evangeline waved her hand forward, and the group moved again—Sylvia giving directions, still guiding them despite her impaired vision. The house that had once felt warm was different now. Cold. Wrong. At night, the silence was oppressive. Xander followed behind, Damon still on his back as they moved deeper into the hallway. Then Sylvia stopped. Her voice came out low, thoughtful. "Don't you think it's unusual? For someone living alone to have this many rooms?" Leona narrowed her eyes. "Whatever it is… we'll find it behind that door." Evangeline took point, squatting in front of the door. She twisted the knob— "It's locked," she whispered. Leona looked at Damon's unconscious form. "Where's Da— I mean, Number One—when you need him…" She caught herself just in time. A sigh of relief passed through the group. Matia still smacked her arm. "Ow! Sorry…" She blinked. "Anyone know how to pick a lock?" Evangeline shook her head. "No. But I do know how to break one." Without hesitation, she slammed her heel into the lock. It cracked and shattered under the force of her first-class advancement strength. "My grandfather always said—'Better to ask forgiveness than permission.'" Leona muttered, "Funny… Number One says the same thing. I see why you two get along so well." Evangeline smirked. Could she and Damon's endless bickering actually be called "getting along"? She pushed the door open—and what she saw made her breath catch. Her chest tightened. The others froze behind her. "Is… is that what I think it is…?" No one answered. The room was large, lit by the soft flicker of candlelight. Shadows clung to the edges, the darkness thicker in some corners. At the center of the back wall— A symbol. Massive. Carved into the stone. Two white wings. Two black wings. A spiraling abyss at the center. An eye that didn't blink. A symbol known to demons and heretics alike. The mark of the Unknown God. Sylvia bit her lip. Even partially blind, she could see it. And considering her own book bore that same symbol, she couldn't allow them to jump to conclusions. "Let's… search for clues," she said quietly. "Worship of the Unknown God might be heresy here in Soltheon… but on other continents, it's not considered a grave sin." Xander frowned. "How can you say that?" "I'm not supporting heresy. I'm stating a fact," she replied coolly. "Why don't we check the closets?" Leona stepped forward and opened one. Her face went pale. Inside— Bones. Neatly arranged. Small. Children. Teenagers. Not yet adults. Matia's wings curled tightly around herself. "W-what is this…?" Xander slammed the closet shut, his teeth gritted. Evangeline opened another small door nearby. Inside— Broken toys. Children's clothes. Personal belongings. "I take it these definitely aren't hers…" Sylvia approached a table. There were books—open books—and she couldn't read the script, so she called on her skill again. Just a short summary. Nothing more. She merely asked it for a small translation. Especially since she couldn't see. Pain shot through her skull like a blade. She gasped softly, as words scrawled across her mind: Oblivion Potion… Charm Potions… Love Potions… Soul Residue… Obedience Serum… Memory Root. Her face twisted in discomfort. This was very wrong. Leona raised her voice, standing next to a mirror she'd found behind a drape. "Hey. Guys. Over here." They gathered around. The mirror looked ordinary—until Evangeline stepped in front of it. Her reflection… wasn't now. It was her. Years ago. A girl. Dressed in a simple gown, eyes wide and crying. Weak. One by one, the others saw their younger selves too. But Damon—his reflection made their breath catch. A blue-eyed boy in rags. Skin carved with lacerations. A noose tight around his neck. His eyes—lifeless. Sylvia's reflection was of a girl dressed in finery… sitting inside a beautiful room lined with golden bars. A cage. Evangeline whispered, "W-what is this place…?" Her chest tightened. She turned fast, voice sharp— "We need to go. Now." They nodded— —but froze. At the door stood Bel. Her smile was there, but it no longer felt kind. It didn't reach her eyes. It was eerie. Wrong. They brandished their weapons. Their expressions hardened—ready to fight, to flee. Evangeline's voice dropped cold as ice. "Who are you…? What are you…?" Bel's smile never wavered. Her tone was soft. "Me…?" she said gently. "I am… a witch."