We all stopped behind him, bunching together in the shadowy hallway. I could hear the other children's breathing, quick and frightened.

Kuro sat down, his green eyes staring at nothing. His mouth moved slightly, like he was talking to himself. "Need to get them out... but the master needs information... can't do both at once... unless..."

What was he doing? We needed to keep moving. The guards were searching for us.

Then Kuro stood up, and something happened that made my breath catch in my throat.

His body started to... shift. Not like he was moving, but like he was changing. Like something was pulling at him from the inside. His fur rippled, and then—

I couldn't look away.

It looked like melted wax being pulled apart like a shadow peeling away from the ground. Kuro's body stretched, and from his side, something emerged. Dark. Viscous. Wrong.

Another cat.

Or something that looked like a cat.

It stood next to Kuro, the same size, the same shape. But it was wrong. Too dark. The shadows in the hallway seemed to cling to it, like it was made of the same substance. Its eyes glowed faintly—not green like Kuro's, but a dim, pale light that made my skin crawl.

I felt my hands start to shake. 

What is that?

The other children were backing away, pressing against the wall. One of them whimpered softly.

Kuro shook himself, as he'd just come out of cold water. He looked at the shadow-thing standing beside him, then at us.

"It's okay," he said quickly, his voice trying to sound reassuring but coming out strained. "Don't be scared. This is... this is just a shadow. A part of me. It's going to lead you out of the castle."

I stared at the shadow-cat. It didn't move the same way Kuro did. Its movements were too smooth, too fluid. It was gliding instead of walking. And those eyes...

"You all need to follow it," Kuro continued, gesturing at the shadow with one paw. "It knows the way out. It'll get you to safety. I promise."

"Where are you going?" one of the other children asked, their voice small and frightened.

Kuro hesitated. Just for a second. But I saw it.

"I need to help the man," he said. "The one who saved you. He might need assistance, and I can't leave him alone in this place."

He's lying.

The thought came immediately, clear and certain. I didn't know how I knew, but I knew. There was something else. Something he wasn't saying. The way his ears flattened slightly when he spoke. The way his tail went too still.

He wasn't just going to help the man with horns. He was going to do something else. Something he didn't want us to know about.

But I said nothing. Just watched him.

The shadow-cat turned and started moving down the hallway, its movements silent and unnatural. The other children looked at each other, then at Kuro, then at the shadow.

"Go on," Kuro urged. "Follow it. Quickly. Before the guards come back."

One by one, the other children started moving. Following that thing down the hallway. The little boy who'd been crying grabbed onto the girl's hand. They moved together, staying close to each other, their eyes never leaving the shadow-cat leading them.

I should follow them. Should run. Should get out of this place while I still can.

But my feet wouldn't move.

I thought about the man with black hair and horns. The one with different colored eyes—red and green. The one who'd killed those men without hesitation. Who'd stayed behind in that room with the thing that used to be a person.

Was he okay? Was he still alive?

The other children were getting further away, following the shadow around a corner. I was the last one left. The last one is still standing in this hallway.

I looked back.

Kuro was already walking away. Not toward the children. Not toward the shadow. The opposite direction. His black form moved quickly down the hallway, tail low, ears forward. Focused. Like he'd already forgotten about us. Already moved on to whatever he really needed to do.

He's lying, I thought again, watching him go. About something.

He didn't look back. Didn't check to see if I was following the others. He just kept walking, getting smaller and smaller in the dim hallway until he turned a corner and vanished from sight.

I stood there alone. The other children were gone. Kuro was gone.

Just me in this empty hallway, in this castle that was hunting us.

I should run. Should catch up with the others. Should follow that shadow-thing to safety.

But instead, I looked in the direction Kuro had gone. Toward whatever he was really doing. Toward wherever the man with horns might be.

And I started walking.

Kuro—

My paws made barely any sound against the marble floors as I moved through the castle hallways. Good. That's how it should be. Silent. Professional.

Need to figure out what's happening here, I thought, turning another corner. The energy in this place... It's the same. The same as the day of the black sun.

I only knew rumors about that day. Whispers. Fragments of stories that didn't quite fit together. But my master—she knew more. She'd felt it before. That's what she'd told me when she sent me on this mission.

"Investigate the energy," she'd said. "Find the source. Report back."

The memory of her words steadied me. She'd mentioned that the energy here, in this rotting kingdom, reminded her of that day. The day the entire kingdom of Elfspire was reduced to ruin in a single night. An entire kingdom. Gone.

I wanted to know more. Wanted to understand what could do that. What kind of power could erase a kingdom from existence in mere hours? But my master had her reasons for not telling me everything. She always did. And I trusted her. Even if the not-knowing gnawed at me like an itch I couldn't scratch.

Focus, I told myself, shaking my head to clear the thoughts away. Find the source of the energy. That's the mission. That's all that matters right now.

I thought about what Fuko had said earlier. About summoning angels. About what happened to those children when the rituals failed.

Has to be a figure of speech, I reasoned, my tail swishing as I navigated another corridor. Angels aren't real. Just stories. Metaphors for... for something else. Some kind of dark magic or forbidden ritual.

But even as I thought it, doubt crept in.

The energy here. It was new. Different from anything I'd encountered before. And I'd encountered a lot. I'd studied under the greatest minds, read texts that would make scholars weep, and memorized secrets that kings would kill to possess.

I know everything, I thought firmly. I'm the smartest man alive. If angels were real, I would know about—

Wait.

Smartest cat, I corrected myself, looking down at my black paws. I'm a cat now. Smartest cat alive.

The distinction was important.

I turned another corner, then another. The hallways were getting wider here, more ornate. Gold leaf on the columns. Larger paintings. This was getting closer to the heart of the castle. Closer to where the real power resided.

Two large doors appeared ahead, slightly ajar. I approached carefully, pressing myself low to the ground. Peered through the gap.

A throne room.

Or at least, I thought it was. I could barely see the throne itself from this angle—just the edge of it, massive and ornate, sitting at the far end of a long hall. The room was enormous, with high vaulted ceilings and heavy curtains along the walls.

This was it. This was where—

"What are you doing?"

I jumped so hard I nearly hit the ceiling.

"GAH!" The sound escaped before I could stop it. My paw shot up to cover my mouth, muffling the rest of the startled yelp.

I spun around, fur standing completely on end, and found myself staring at the white-haired girl. She was standing right behind me, her head tilted slightly to the side, looking at me with those bright blue eyes.

How— I thought, my heart hammering in my chest. How did she sneak up on me? ME?

I was a professional. Trained in stealth. A master of reconnaissance. And this child had just walked up behind me without me noticing?

Embarrassing. Absolutely embarrassing.

And also... kind of impressive.

And also very annoying that I was impressed.

"You—" I started to whisper, trying to regain my composure. "You're supposed to be with the others! Why did you—"

Footsteps.

Heavy. Multiple. Getting closer.

My ears swiveled toward the sound. The guards. They were coming this way. Fast.

Damn it.

"In here!" I hissed. "Now!"

I didn't wait for her to respond. I darted through the gap in the doors, into the throne room. The girl scrambled after me, her bare feet silent on the marble.

The curtains. The heavy curtains along the wall. We could hide there.

We both dove behind the nearest curtain just as the footsteps reached the hallway outside. The thick fabric swallowed us, and I pressed myself against the wall, trying to control my breathing. Trying to listen.

The girl was right next to me, her small body tense. I could feel her shaking slightly.

The footsteps stopped right outside the doors.

Then they moved on. Fading down another corridor. Gone.

I waited a few more heartbeats, then carefully started moving forward along the wall, staying behind the curtain. The girl followed, her movements surprisingly quiet for a child.

We crawled slowly, carefully, until we reached the edge of the curtain. I poked my head out just enough to see.

We were behind the throne room. Actually, in it now, hidden in the shadows at the back.

The throne sat before us, maybe twenty paces away. Massive. Ornate. Gold and dark wood carved with intricate designs that seemed to writhe in the dim light. And behind it—

Stained glass.

Enormous panels of colored glass rose behind the throne, reaching nearly to the ceiling. Even in the low light, I could make out the images. Religious imagery. Holy figures with their hands raised in blessing. And angels. Four-winged angels, their forms radiant, their faces serene.

Four wings.

Something about that felt important, but I couldn't place why.

The room was dimly lit—just a few candles burning in wall sconces, their flames weak and flickering. I glanced at the girl beside me. She was squinting, trying to see in the darkness. But my cat eyes cut through the gloom easily. One of the few advantages of this form.

I looked back at the throne.

And that's when I saw it.

Someone was sitting there.

My breath caught.

The figure sat perfectly still, hands resting on the armrests of the throne. At first glance, it looked almost normal. Almost human. But something was wrong.

The body was... dried. Like something that had been left in the sun too long. The skin pulled tight against the bones, thin as parchment, almost translucent. I could see the shape of the skull beneath the face. The eye sockets were hollow, dark pits that stared at nothing. The lips had pulled back from the teeth in a permanent grimace.

It wasn't a person.

It was a corpse.

A corpse sitting on a throne, dressed in royal finery, wearing a crown that was too large for its shrunken head.

What—

Footsteps.

Different ones this time. Slow. Measured. Purposeful.

The doors at the far end of the throne room opened, and someone entered. A figure in flowing robes, moving with an air of authority that made the very air seem to bow before them.

The Sire.

The quiet room suddenly filled with the sound of those footsteps, each one echoing off the high ceiling. The figure walked toward the throne with the confidence of someone who owned everything they surveyed.

I pressed myself lower, making myself as small as possible. The girl did the same, her hand gripping my fur so tightly it almost hurt.

The Sire stopped before the throne. Then, slowly, they leaned forward. Closer to the corpse. Closer to that dried, hollow thing that shouldn't be sitting upright, shouldn't be dressed in royal clothing, shouldn't exist.

I strained to hear. Strained to see.

The Sire's head was turned, facing the corpse. But I could see them clearly now, and their lips... their lips weren't moving.

But there was sound.

Whispering.

Soft. Barely audible. But definitely there. A voice speaking words I couldn't quite make out.

I looked at the corpse.

Its mouth was closed. But the sound—the whispering—was coming from it. From that dead, dried thing on the throne. The jaw wasn't moving. The lips weren't forming words. But somehow, impossibly, it was speaking.

My fur stood on end. Every instinct screamed at me to run. To get out of this room. To get away from whatever unholy thing was happening here.

The girl's grip on my fur tightened even more. She'd seen it too. Heard it too.

The Sire straightened, nodding slightly as if acknowledging something the corpse had said. Then they turned.

And looked directly at us.

I froze.

The girl froze.

We didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't dare even blink.

The Sire's face was hidden in shadow, but I could feel their gaze. Could feel it piercing through the darkness, through the curtain, straight into us.

They knew.

They knew we were here.

A smile spread across the Sire's face—slow, deliberate, terrible.

"How delightful," they said, their voice smooth as silk and cold as winter. "We have unexpected guests."

End of chapter 6