The Maer picks his jagged teeth with a fork before tossing the utensil away. I’m pacing back and forth in front of him. The Maer sits with both feet on the table. His shoes are covered in mud. I don’t know why, and I don’t ask.

“What’s the plan, then?” The Maer asks.

“I wait until after dinner when the beast is asleep. Then I go to the storage room.” I answer. “And if I stay quiet, then maybe the servants won’t hear me either.

“And what do you expect to even find?” He presses, leaning back in his chair. “A silver bullet? A stake to drive into her heart?”

“I just want to know what’s in there.”

“You think you can play the innocent with me? You think it’s only curiosity?”

“Don’t think you can read my mind.”

The Maer tsks. “Little Marius, ever the fool. Where do you think we are? Who do you think I am?”

I choose my words carefully. “I don’t know what’s real or in my mind here.”

“Well, let’s make things nice and sparkling clear then.” The Maer suddenly jumps onto the table, planting muddy tracks from his boots all over the cloth. He picks a few sticks out of his hair and begins tossing them at me.

“You’re not innocent.” He throws another stick at me. “You’re a filthy liar.” He throws another stick at me. “And lastly—” The last stick hits me square in the forehead. “You’d like to see that bird plucked and stuffed. So, stop pretending something you’re not, got it?”

I hang my head. I don’t want to admit how right he is.

“Oh, what’s wrong? Too much insight for you?” The Maer rolls his eyes. He hops down from the table. “The truth hurts, Marius. But listen to it and you’ll understand yourself better. You’re no saint. You’re not even good. Just admit it to yourself and you’ll feel better.”

He was so close that the tips of our noses touched. I try to meet his asymmetrical gaze. It is too hard. Worse still, I cannot bring myself to say the words he wishes me to say.

His cold hand taps my cheek.

“Hey! I don’t hear anything. Say it!”

I still don’t look at him.

“Say it!” The Maer’s voice is deeper and angrier.

I open my mouth…

I looked out into the hallway. Still dark and lit by limpid blue light. And very quiet.

Upon waking up, I remained in my room for the day. I hadn’t seen or heard the Madame at all today, and for that I was thankful. It was just a matter of waiting for my two meals. I guessed my opportune moment would be sometime after dinner. Admittingly, I was judging on approximate rather than exact time. Regardless, I kept to my plan to the best of my ability.

I finished my second meal quickly and pushed the empty tray into the hall. In a rush of wind and clatter, the tray was gone. After that, I waited in my room for what I assumed to be an hour. After the time was up, I peeked into the halls and listened for any servants or signs of a giant bird. There was only the faint groaning of the wood and the wind whistling outside.

I silently crept through the halls, quickly gazing around every corner. No giant raven. I saw only the endless dark halls that seemed to go on forever. I felt like a prisoner of the Minotaur, dreading every unturned corner and new noise.

Soon I found myself at the head of the hallway. I stood at the edge where the rest of the house met the corridor. The featureless black leading to that single door looked like a starless sky stretched like dark fabric around the walls. Considering where I was, I assumed someone took a section of the sky and placed it here like so much drapery. A terrible thought of falling forever into darkness hung in my memory like a dark cloud.

You can do this, I told myself. I took a deep breath and stepped forward.

My foot hit the floor. I took another step. My feet were on solid ground.

I sighed in relief. An illusion, I thought as I tentatively stepped forward. I brushed a hand against the adjacent wall. To my shock, I felt something soft against my hand. I pinched the darkness and pulled it out. The darkness lingered in the air, then melded back into the wall.

I kept walking down the hallway. My footsteps made no sound. It seemed I was walking on pure shadow. From my observation, shadows felt like silk.

At the end of the hall was a large pair of otherwise ordinary wooden doors. I inspected the unassuming brass doorknob. I was expecting something a bit more intimidating. With a deep breath, I turned it and entered the room.

I stifled a cough as I walked into a cloud of dust. The air was thick and musty. I imagined this was what the interior of a mausoleum smelled like. The dead had it easy; they didn’t have to breathe any of that dead air.

The room was completely dark. I squinted, but my eyes were not adjusting.

Then high above me, a trio of ghost-lights blazed to luminescence. Stars of dust shimmered before my vision. It must be some kind of automatic system, I thought. Automatic magic lights.

Large white sheets covered everything. I imagined them to be tired ghosts exhausted after a night of haunting, now resting limply over whatever they could sleep on. I grabbed the closest sheet and dragged it off.

A giant portrait, far taller than me, stood against the wall. The frame was gilded with gold and silver. Four figures were depicted: Two adults and two children.

There was an adult man and woman who were tall, pale-skinned, and clad in elegant clothes. The man’s face was sharp and severe as if chiseled out of marble. He wore a stern, unfriendly expression, and his thin lips were pursed tightly together in a frown. His jet-black hair was tied back in a tight ponytail which only served to tighten his features in a very unpleasant way. The woman, the man’s wife as I assumed, was softer in appearance yet still gave an air of unpleasantry. Her face was frozen in a slight sneer. Her lips were full and painted red like blood. She wore a large, curled wig which was larger than her head.

In the foreground, there was one tall child and one smaller child, both girls: The taller child was dressed in fine purple lace with large puffy sleeves. The taller child resembled the mother the most, with a rounded face, red lips, and black hair. The other child was a very different sight. A thick veil covered the child's face. That is, except for the slightest hint of the eyes barely visible behind the veil. They were eyes that I knew all too well: a pair of icy blue eyes that glowed with unnatural light even in painted form.

I stepped away from the portrait, marveled and unsettled at once. It looked almost real. The level of detail was unheard of. Whoever did it must’ve been a true master. I wished I could’ve met them. At the same time, I felt the faces of the families staring through me. Whatever the artist had done to achieve the effect of those eyes was commendable. My skin crawled just looking at it.

I pulled away more sheets and found other strange things: a horse head with its mouth agape. Or rather, a bust of a horse. The attention to detail of its carving was incredible. This must’ve been a precursor of the stone horse that brought me here. Beside the horse were other half-completed sculptures: the upper body of an antelope posed mid-gallop; the powerful back legs and tail of a tiger. All half-formed animals, captured in stone with impossibly perfect likeness.

Under another sheet beside the sculptures lay a small collection of instruments on the floor. A cello lay beside a violin and a flute. All were cocooned in dust like everything else in the room. I wondered how long everything had been here.

In the farthest corner of the room was the last uncovered sheet. I dragged the sheet away as a torrent of dust stung my eyes.

An immaculately crafted piano sat before me. My hands ran alongside its polished wood and gild. The legs were clawed bird feet, no doubt a raven. I flipped open the key covering. They all shined as if freshly carved. My finger found middle C and pressed the key down. Middle C rang like a bell throughout the empty room.

“What are you doing in here?” A familiar voice shocked me to my core. I turned around.

The Madame’s massive form blocked the doorway. Her eyes were two cold stars piercing into my soul.

“I—I’m—” I stammered.

The Madame was on me with frightening speed. She gripped my shoulder and threw me to the ground. A loud crack rang throughout the room as the piano covering slammed shut.

Suddenly, the horse head’s stoney eyes flew open.

The head started neighing and snorting in panic. Beside it, the tiger’s legs and tail swished and kicked. The half-antelope snorted and pawed the air. Cries of half-formed stone animals filled the room. I struggled to get to my feet as abject terror filled my chest. I felt a terrible sting in my shoulder.

My hand was bloody. Three thin red scratches tore my shirt and marked my skin.

Meanwhile, the Madame crouched over the piano. Slowly, her burning eyes turned to me. “Get out.” She growled murderously.

I backed toward the door.

“Get out!” The Madame shrieked like a monstrous bird of prey.

I will get out, I thought. You’ll never see me again.

I sprinted down the halls and headed to the exit. I couldn’t take this anymore. I would leave this place and take my chances out in the forest. I knew that if I stayed here, I would die.

“Young sir?” I heard Finley call. “Where are you going?”

“Home!” I shouted back.

“Please, sir—” I heard him say, but his voice faded just as quickly as I arrived at the entry hall as I pushed open the doors with all my might. I nearly slipped on the steps as I clambered down into the snow.

I ran past the lantern and the horse before stopping at the gate. I looked back at the manor, barely lit in the darkness. Then I looked to the endless darkness of the forest.

One of those has a home on the other side. The other is something worse, I thought.

I turned on my heel and ran into the forest.

There were no guideposts or torches or any semblance of anything resembling civilization. There were merely deep drifts of snow that I waded through, the walls of trees that blocked my path, and the moon hanging high in the sky.

The wind lashed my cheeks and chilled my breath. My hands were shaking and numb. My shoes were soaked through. I couldn’t feel my toes anymore. I held my arms against my chest to contain whatever warmth remained.

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I should have turned around and returned to the manor. I ought to have accepted my fate as the prisoner of the raven. But the Maer was right all along: I was weak. I was too weak to stand up for myself. I was too weak to honor my mother’s debt. I was too weak to stay home and help my family. Weakness was all I had. It was all I’d ever be.

I’d failed Mother, failed my brothers, failed myself.

In a way, I’d even failed Father.

I came upon a clearing. A single skeletal tree with icicles precariously hanging from its bare branches sat alone within it. An appropriate place to die, I thought as I collapsed against it. Un unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere.

I shivered violently as I hugged myself. I wondered what it felt like to freeze to death. Was it painful? Did you feel the life draining from you as everything turned to ice? Or did you fade away as the cold took you? I wanted to just sit and let the snow cover me. I would disappear into this dark place, and no one would know I ever existed.

That wasn’t true. My family and Ms. DeRose would know that I had existed. But to them, I was dead anyway. I was far away from home and everything I’d ever known. I had only myself to blame for that.

A loud whinny pierced the night air. Large hoofbeats pounded the ground like a wild stampede. Out of the blizzard and brush leaped a gigantic horse. The horse hit the ground with a great thump and skidded to a stop in front of me. It reared and swung its head before its rider calmed it. The horse’s nostrils flared, then exhaled with a hollow whistle.

The rider of the steed wore a long black cloak. A hood covered its head, barely concealing the hooked beak poking out from underneath.

The Madame threw a large cloak at me. I wrapped myself tightly in it.

The horse lowered itself to the ground. “Get on.” She ordered.

I climbed onto the horse.

Our trip back to the manor was surprisingly short, considering how long I thought I’d been out there. Only the whistling wind and the horse’s hoofbeats filled the silence between us.

Once we were under the blue lamplight at the manor, the horse bent down to let us off. The Madame dismounted first, then silently offered her hand to me. I eyed the scaly digit, then reluctantly took it as I slid off the horse.

She threw off her hood. Snowflakes collected on her dark feathers. “Follow me.” She said.

I narrowed my eyes but obeyed.

I followed her back into the manor until we arrived at the library. A large fire blazed brightly, lighting the room like the afternoon sun. I could feel its heat even before I entered the room. The Madame removed her cloak and slung it on a nearby hanger. I sat down in a chair by the fire. In a rush of wind, a heavy blanket appeared on my shoulders. A cup of steaming tea with a lemon appeared in my hands.

I sipped my tea as I wrapped myself tightly in my blanket. The cold faded quickly. I could’ve fallen asleep right there if not for the Madame standing before me. Her back was to the fire, her form cast in shadow with only her icy eyes staring into me. Her hands firmly gripped the head of her cane. I couldn’t read her expression. I guessed it was somewhere between derision and anger.

“Feeling better?” She finally inquired.

I nodded. I took a deep sip of my tea. Its warmth rushed throughout my body.

“I told you not to go into the storage room.”

Oh great, I thought, rolling my eyes.

“And then you run off into the forest after I explicitly told you otherwise. You are truly an idiot.”

That was the last straw. “You know what?” I slammed down my teacup and stood up. “You have a lot of nerve saying that!”

“I told you not to go. You disobeyed. I am within my right as your host to tell you this.”

“And you expected me to listen to you for how long? After the way you’ve been treating me?” I stood up, casting off my blanket.

“I open my house to you, and you violate my rules. You’re no different than your mother.” She scoffed. “I should’ve expected as much.”

I strode over to the Madame and locked eyes with her. “Don’t you dare talk about my mother that way!”

“If you can’t live in my house and follow my rules, then—”

“Then what?” I snapped. “What else could you possibly do to me that you haven’t already? Insult me? Threaten another one of my family? How about slashing me up, let’s add that to the list!” I threw out my hands, inviting further punishment. “Come on!”

The Madame breathed a shaking breath and steadied herself. “You are on thin ice. What gives you the right to talk to me this way?”

“Because you are no host or madame of anything. You’re not even a person.” I defiantly stared at her. “I loathe you.”

We held each other’s gaze for what felt like an eternity. My chest heaved from the exertion of my words. My eyes lit with rage. I was out for blood. I didn’t care what she did to me if I wounded her first. I wasn’t weak. I would prove it.

The Madame’s bright eyes darted back and forth, searching my face. No doubt she was figuring out a counterattack.

She sighed and hung her head.

With one word, my anger snuffed out like a candle.

The Madame slunk off and fell into a chair.

I stood in front of the fireplace, sweat beading my forehead. I was utterly confused. This wasn’t supposed to happen. “What?” I said aloud.

“Just leave me alone,” she said, her voice thick. “Please.”

I exhaled heavily. Of course, I had to be the one to apologize. “What was it I said—”

“You were right about everything.”

My heart skipped.

“I am a—” Her voice caught in her throat. “—a contemptible thing. I have done everything to convince you of that fact. So please return to your room and leave me alone.”

She sat with her large, feathered head in her hand. Here was the monster that had threatened my mother and called me a mongrel, and she was feeling shame.

She was ashamed. I could barely believe it.

I realized that’s what I was feeling too.

I knelt beside her.

“I thought I told you to leave.” She restated without looking at me.

“I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you,” I said, bowing my head. “I was too harsh.”

The Madame shook her head. “I do not deserve your pity.”

“And I wanted to thank you for saving my life.” I gently touched her hand. It was rough to the touch. “I don’t know if I could’ve survived if you hadn’t come for me. For that I thank you. Sincerely.”

She looked down. The feathers on her neck were standing up.

“You’re welcome.”

I returned to my room, doffed my now soggy clothes and drew up a warm bath. I was already warmed up, but I needed something else for good measure. I fought sleep, drowsiness being threatened by the warm water. Such a relief, though, compared to the bitter cold outside. To think, I should’ve been frozen to death out there, I thought as I stared at the bathroom ceiling. But she came back for me. To think I thought she hated me.

I changed into nicer clothes, a soft blue silk shirt and pants I found in the drawer, then promptly fell onto the bed. Before, the whole ordeal had made me quite tired. But now, I was wide awake. My mind turned the new development between myself and the Madame over and over. It all seemed too good to be true. I thought I had her figured out. Everything pointed to her being this repulsive, hateful creature in my eyes. And yet…

And yet…

A soft knock. A meal? Now? It was too early for either. Or was it? I chided myself for trying to discern time in this place.

I rolled out of bed and went to the dining room. The Madame was already at the table. Her gown was different: the collar consisted of black lace weaved with glittering silver points. The rest of the gown was a dark blue lined with purple accents which accentuated her form. It was quite fetching in her way.

I took my seat. She did the same. We sat in silence for a while. The Madame fidgeted in her seat, avoiding my gaze. I lightly drummed my fingers on the table.

She opened her beak, then closed it.

I raised my eyebrows expectantly.

She nervously twirled a napkin between her talons. “I—I owe you an apology.”

An apology, I thought. This is a new development, truly.

She sighed heavily. “I have been a terrible host.”

There’s no doubt about that, I wanted to say.

“And I—um…” The Madame held her head in her hands. “God, why is this so hard? I can’t do anything right…”

That twinge of sympathy came back. “You’re doing fine. Keep going,” I assured her.

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “As Madame of this house, I wish to amend you any emotional distress I have caused you.” She turned her beak up in an attempt at authority. “The payment shall be whatever you choose.”

“Anything?”

The Madame nodded.

I tapped my chin and thought about my options. I couldn’t imagine what I wanted to do with her considering the first impression she had made. Just a few days, or rather nights, ago, I would have been happy to never talk to her ever again. But there was something about her she was now, something almost innocent in the way she avoided my eyes. It reminded me of when I was young and had done something to misbehave. I never wanted any harm to come to others. Yet the consequences still hurt. It seemed that she was experiencing the same thing.

This could be a sign of something more, I thought.

“Can we take a walk in the garden after breakfast?” I finally asked.

“It shall be done.” She nodded.

Our meal arrived, and we ate in silence. When we finished, we headed to the garden. Upon arriving, the servants presented us with large fur coats. Mine was large and lined with gray fur which hung heavily on my shoulders. I thought I looked like an ape in it. But I was a very warm ape, so whatever shame I felt disappeared very quickly. The Madame wore a large black coat which hung snugly around her upper body. The coat resembled a sheet of jet-black feathers that bulked out her appearance considerably. She appeared even more imposing than before. But the look in her eyes said otherwise.

We walked along the snowy paths and didn’t speak a word. The silence was awkward, but it was a welcome change from her belittling and insults. I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this. A part of me still suspected that this was a façade and that her old ways would re-emerge.

As we walked, I noted certain things about the Madame: How her head bobbed slightly every time she took a step; the way her large bird feet poked out from under her dress; how her stride remained graceful and poised even with her strange avian features.

“How is your shoulder?” She finally asked.

I felt my shoulder. It stung to the touch. “Only a scratch. There’s no real damage.”

The Madame stared at her talons and said nothing. She simply stared into the distance and kept walking.

“I’m not hurt. Really. It’s not so bad.”

“It doesn’t matter. I hurt you.” She murmured. The ends of the Madame’s beak turned down. She stared at her feet. “I can’t help but hurt everyone.”

Was this shame again? I heard the voice of the Maer in my head. Oh look, the birdie has feelings! Imagine that! I would’ve agreed with it yesterday. But now, something was different. I had to know why.

“What was in that room you didn’t want me to see?”

“Memories of another life. A life I destroyed.” The Madame brandished her talons again. “I can’t help but ruin everything I touch.”

I remembered the large portrait. “You had a family. What happened to them?”

“I drove them away.” The Madame mused bitterly. She gestured the open air. “This house is my prison now. I dare not leave for fear of hurting everyone else. My solitude here is my punishment. It is for the sake of the world that I do not interact with anyone else.”

“That sounds awfully lonely.”

She stopped and gazed at one of the raven statues standing over us. “I remember the sun like it was yesterday. I remember when this garden was full of color and life. Now, no longer.” She ran a hand down the raven’s stone feathers. “And all of it is my fault.”

I felt my heart hurting for her. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. "Your compassion is wasted on me. Memory is a curse. I long for the balm of Lehte, the river of forgetfulness. I wish to sleep upon its shores and purge my mind.”

“That must feel like a great burden to carry.” I said. “That’s quite a poetic way to put it, actually.”

The Madame scoffed. “You mean melodramatic.”

“It doesn’t make it any less true.”

She raised a feathered eyebrow.

“You have a way of seeing the world that is distinct to you. That is a unique aspect of you alone.”

Her eyes shifted from me, then to the ground. “I suppose you’re right.” She sat on a nearby bench. “I don’t want to repeat the last few nights. If I can make your stay here easier, please tell me before I—” She glanced at my shoulder. “Before that happens again.”

I nodded. “And you can let me know if there’s anything you need from me?”

“That would be ideal.”

“That sounds like a fair trade.” I sat beside her. “Then can we reintroduce ourselves?” I offered. “In the spirit of better second impressions?”

“Is that a custom where you come from?”

“No, but I think it’s appropriate here.”

The Madame nodded. She straightened her posture and presented her hand to me. “Good evening, sir. May I ask your name?”

I bowed my head and took her hand. “My name is Marius Dufresne. May I ask yours?”

“My name is Faustine.”

I gently kissed her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Madame Faustine.”

“Faustine?” The Maer mockingly rolls her name in his mouth. “Oh please, do you really think that’s her name? She’s a creature, for God’s sake! Creatures don’t have names!”

“Even creatures feel shame.” I retort.

We’re standing in the library. The fire is lit, but frozen mid-flicker in a shapeless mass of flame. Bright light still emanates from it, but no heat can be felt.

“Dogs feel shame when you catch them in the act.” The Maer replies. “That doesn’t make them the same as people, does it?”

“That’s not exactly comparable.”

The Maer rolls his eyes. “She changed in the blink of an eye! One day she screams at you, the next she’s throwing this ridiculous one-bird self-pity routine and you’re falling for it!”

“There’s something else going on her. I know it.” I turn to look the Maer in his asymmetrical eyes. “She’s more than I first thought of her.”

The Maer mock-vomits onto the floor. “Spare me your false romantics! Artists and your delusions! Why do you refuse to see the truth when it’s right in front of you?”

“I am seeing what’s in front of me!” I strike back. “I can feel it!”

“Like what?” The Maer asks derisively.

“Why would a monster be so willing to apologize?” I declare. “Last time I recalled, a beast would not understand that. What I saw was the actions of a person, not a thing.”

“Lots of people have feelings, Marius.” The Maer says my childhood nickname the same way someone talks about vermin. “But lots of people also cheat, lie, steal, murder. That doesn’t give them the right to any sympathy.” He tuts as he shakes his head. “You’re going to regret this.”

“Watch me.”