Faye looked past the hunched-over figure of Chandler sitting at her desk and stared at the vase on her wall shelf that housed a Black Dahlia.

Claudia? No, wait. Regina? She tilted her head. For, she couldn’t remember the name of the girl who she was undressing to save her life.

As a result of said lady squirming in her arms rather enthusiastically, her bed creaked, and the wooden bedposts, which resembled miniature shade trees, sagged a little.

The young woman whimpered something that flew over Faye’s head.

“Because you are special,” Faye smiled after she noticed the blush on the girl’s cheeks. “And special things are privy to my attention.”

Even though the name eluded her, she knew one thing: her face would stay far away from the girl’s genitals since bathing was apparently a foreign concept to her. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t even going to touch the girl without protection; no way her hands were going to smell like dookie for the rest of the day.

Thus, she clapped twice to gain Chandler’s attention, held her hands out to the side, and watched as he grudgingly and carefully put down the different pieces of the pocket watch he had dissected to hand her a pair of latex gloves.

“Thank you, darling.”

Chandler rolled his eyes, and his cerulean-colored hair, which he shared with Faye —only short instead of nearly hip-length— swayed in a motion that expressed disgust. “I should’ve listened to mother and never bet with a witch,” he murmured before reseating himself.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Faye chuckled. “Are you certain you don’t want to join us?”

She playfully kissed the girl's neck to irritate her nephew more but had to scrunch up her nose. Seriously, how hard was it to keep yourself clean? The least you could do as a woman was take a dip into the damned river on the daily.

Normally, she would’ve kicked the offender out immediately. However, she felt generous. Translation: there was nothing else to do. Moreover, since Chandler had to do her bidding for a day, this was the perfect opportunity to mess with him.

“Although your worry makes me transcend into the ninth heaven,” Chandler said, ”there is no need for it.”

“Lady Faye,” the girl whispered in a soft crying tone. Yet, her erect pink nipples betrayed the true emotion she was feeling.

Faye brushed her fingers over the girl’s cheeks. “Patience–”

Heavy knocking caused Faye to turn her head, and she exhaled deeper than usual when the door-shaking sound stopped after exactly four taps.

She stared at Chandler’s back as he stalked toward the entrance of her bedroom, and something primal inside of her caused her to shudder.

He was unassuming. Too unassuming. Often, he seemed to disappear much like a painting on the wall that decorated the interior of an antique home. Even though it was interesting, at the end of the day, you wouldn't remember what exactly it was an artwork of. In fact, you'd have trouble remembering if the piece of art was even there in the first place or but a figment of your imagination.

However—Faye narrowed her eyes as Chandler turned the doorknob, the action producing nigh a sound, appearing as if he wasn’t even trying—that’s what made him deadly.

Grandfather used to say it the best: to scour the woods for the wolf yet miss the canyon in front of you.

Yes. Although the man turned senile in his later years, his intuition stayed on point. She had to keep her attention on Chandler. Otherwise, should things turn south, his blade would slit her throat before she knew what was happening.

“Here you go,” Chandler said, appearing in front of her out of thin air.

Her mouth twitched. Don't get frustrated; there's still time.

She accepted the letter, and the wholly black seal told her enough.

“Out of my room,” Faye said, closing her eyes to mentally prepare herself.

Faye’s plaything for the day murmured in protest. However, Chandler handled it.

After a minute or two, the door shut, but she found Chandler sitting at her desk. She didn’t comment on it. Since their rank was the same, she couldn’t order him around. With or without him losing a bet.

Therefore, deciding she had greater concerns than a nephew who refused to leave her room, she produced a knife, opened the envelope, and immediately found herself drawn to the sole three sentences in the middle:

The left hand holds the dagger above Cella in search of any sign of taint.

Swift and decisive, its descent will be unrestraint.

Happy hunting.

Short. Yet, more than enough.

Before she disposed of the message—a letter whose content was read held negative value—she needed to double-check its legitimacy. As such, she walked over to Chandler, leaned over him, breasts resting on his shoulder, removed a cylindrical tube from her drawer, poured essence into it, and confirmed the mail's legality when the resulting light beam revealed the dagger symbol in the upper left corner of the page.

That done, she held the note above the candle illuminating Chandler’s work and waited until it completely evaporated.

“A lantern?” Chandler asked as he used a tweezer to place one of the tiny screws of his pocket watch in a bowl of water.

Faye shook her head. “The light has been cast.”

“So, a role as an executor,” Chandler said. “Do correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t seem delighted? I thought you waited a long time for this opportunity?”

Her entire life to be exact. All the gruesome training enforced on her by her father and the rest of her family had been for this. Still, the denser the cultivation site, all the more spirit beasts would surround it.

Failing this task would spell her end.

In a move she didn’t expect at all, Chandler grabbed her hand. “You will be fine. I have faith in you, cousin.”

Faye's heart skipped a beat. That sounded genuine. As if he honestly believed what he was saying…

No.

She calmed the drumming in her chest, refusing to let the energized beating heat up her body in a display of appreciation.

This, too, was a part of the game they played.

A smile alighted on her face. She lightly pressured his hand in return, kissed it, and stared into his wenge-colored eyes. “Thank you,” Faye said, accentuating the feminine pitch of her voice. “May I please ask of your assistance if I require it?”

“Of course,” Chandler said.

“Faye, can I come in?” Came Beth’s voice from behind the door.

Chandler lowered his appendage that was as wiry as the rest of his physique and resumed his passion.

“Ye—”

Not even waiting until the last syllable, Beth rushed into the room, nearly tackling Faye onto the ground.

“Faye, are you okay?” Beth said, her purple nails biting into Faye’s defenseless shoulders. ”Is there anything I can do to help?”

This proved once more that if there was one thing Beth was good for, then it was raw strength, Faye thought as she kept herself from yelping.

“I’m alright.” Faye moved forward and raised her hand to Beth’s cheek, thereby slipping from the vise grip.

“More importantly, how many times have I told you to use an honorific?”

Beth sniffed so aggressively that the holes of her nose appeared ready to swallow the entire room for a moment. “Why should best friends use an honorific with each other?”

Instead of arguing—she required all the energy she could muster for her task— she gave Beth two soft taps on the cheeks, which the disillusioned child took as confirmation of her beliefs.

Keeping her brainwashed works better for me, anyway.

She left Beth’s personal space and made way for her undergarments.

Perhaps only just now noticing it, Beth released a squeal. “Faye, there’s a man in the room!”

“You should apply to become a scout,” came the voice of Helga from near the door opening.

The lackadaisical way she leaned on the door, arms crossed and inspecting one of the nails on her feet, perfectly showed the dichotomy between the two sister’s personalities.

One was ready to combust in a fit of rage at any given moment, much like a bull who just got its rightful sexual release denied by a female, while the other was as calm and discerning as an owl lying in ambush that didn’t even turn its head until the perfect opportunity presented itself.

They formed a great pair, Faye chuckled, before she inwardly apologized to Helga when she saw Beth’s face light up in indignation in response.

“One more word out of you,” Beth said, her finger representing a spear as she pointed Helga’s way. “And I’ll help you take that break you so desperately want.”

Helga stuck out her tongue, and Faye saw steam leaving Beth's ears.

“Smart, it wasn’t a word,” Chandler said.

Beth snapped her head around but only bit her lips. The last time she challenged Chandler, she was forced to take the aforementioned break herself.

“To answer your original question, though,” Faye said as she fastened the belt around her skirt, ”no, this is something I must do myself. At most, I can ask Chandler for help.”

“Which is an action that will be noted by the family,” Chandler clarified.

“Can’t we secretly help you?” Beth asked. As per usual, she was incapable of using her brain to think three steps ahead. However, no one could blame her for her mental deficiency since being born that way was out of her control.

“If you want me to despise you for all eternity,” Faye said, moving over to her closet and removing her set of daggers, ”then you can try.”

The time for playing games was over, Faye thought as she hid them all over her body. So, she needed to use every second effectively.

Lua forbid that she failed her task. For, even the Dark Mother of the Shadows would not stretch her hand to save her from her own incompetence.

She signaled everyone out of her room, and Chandler, too, left this time. Finally alone, Faye looked outside her window and briefly considered.

If she wanted to be safe, there were a little more than two hours of sunlight left to reach and make use of her cultivation site. But perhaps it was time to a risk…

She turned toward her bed and reached under it to retrieve a large rectangular box partially wrapped in black cloth. Afterward, she sat down, resting on her knees, and spent some time unwrapping before opening the case.

Even though it was still sheathed, the smell of rot immediately overtook the stench of the girl, and Faye’s mood turned melancholic as she caressed the falchion her grandfather left her.

Siem, the Mortal’s Curse, Faye whispered.

Perhaps she imagined it, but the blade vibrated ever so slightly at her touch, purring at the sound of its name like a cub, encouraging her to pick it up for the first time in three years. She removed the sword from its prison—the sheath sighing in relief, for it could cease its duty for a short while— and admired its edge that hadn’t dulled at all.

Although the black veins running along its length pulsed, she couldn’t help but run her thumb along the sharp side of the blade. Many a time had her father admonished her for traversing a line so thin in contrast to her grandfather, who only praised her as he laughed himself back into sanity. Yet, she had this strange feeling in the back of her head, which told her that getting cut wouldn't affect her at all.

Siem agreed, swearing it would never hurt her and that it had missed her as it begged for the attention it had so craved.

Yes, she thought, pointing Siem at the sun, splitting the rays of the heavenly body in the sky as she gazed down its tip and divided her visual perception of the world in two.

It was time to take a risk.