There was sweat between my legs. Sweat on my belly, beneath my breasts. There was sweat on my back too, but it was quickly cooled by the nights cold breeze pouring in from the window behind me.

Sinclair lay beside me, naked and covered in that same sticky-sweet sweat. I bit my lip and traced my fingertips over the fresh scars over his cheek and neck, a touch of worry in my heart despite myself.

Why worry about him? He’s just a ghost to me. A ghost that decided to return from the dead two days ago. Huh. It took two days for my old toy soldier to slip back into my bed. The light of the full moon dripped over us both. It soaked my porcelain skin, entwining with my silver-pink hair. Moonlight danced in Sinclair’s red hair, and made him appear far more peaceful than he deserved to be. He was so very handsome. His hair, the same colour of the rusted elder-roots of the moors to the east, his chin as sharp as his tongue. My toy soldier had certainly grown in the three years he’d abandoned me. I ran a hand over his rippled chest, enjoying its soft rise and fall. I knew he’d be gone in the morning, as though he’d never returned in the first place. He was just a ghost to me and everyone here at Sanctuary.

After all, what place did a soldier of the royal army have amongst demons?

The next morning, I was wrong. Sinclair had changed in more ways than one. Two ways, in fact. The two fingers he used to wake me, slipping them between my silk legs and into me. With a wicked grin I gripped his arm as he went deeper, faster, his blue eyes ablaze in the morning rays. He was standing over the bed in his uniform, his other hand pushing my legs open. Sinclair returned that same wicked grin, and leant down to bite and kiss my side.

“Good morning, little doll,” He smirked. I sighed, and pushed him away with a small shove with my foot. “I’m hungry, actually. Not a doll.” The smirk quickly faded from his eyes. There was a time for playfulness. A time for regrets. And a time for food. And god, was I hungry. His gaze quickly melted into that of disinterest.

“Right, right, of course. Well, I might see you down there. I have to meet with Yokomi,” Sinclair shrugged, adjusting his red collar. There was a familiar look to that red. That uniform. The high red collar of a squad captain, the three golden eagle pins of a veteran of the Obsidian Wars and the circle emblem of the Royal Army of his majesty King Forrest Lioncrest. It stirred something odd in me. Deep in my stomach. Bad, good, it was hard to tell. I was probably more hungry than anything else.

“I’ll be sure to give you a wave if I see you,” I said, polite and light as I dared. From the drawers of my small room, mostly taken up by the bed I found a summer dress from long-ago and slipped it on. Sinclair left without another word, probably to wonder the halls and appear when he felt like it.

We were same in that way, ghosts that wandered the countless rooms and hallways of the Sanctuary. A place of hope. A place of quiet comfort. Out in the wilderness of the Green Peaks, nestled between the pine Jade forest that rolled and twisted amongst the hills and barrows of the Peaks lay my home. Flowers, weeds and a lone cobble-stone road surrounded this place. But silence and bird-song, most of all. Taking my time, I wondered down the hall, flowers and silk flowing behind me. It’s been a long while since anyone’s been here. I wonder if he missed my black hair. I doubt it. Besides, I prefer the Silver-pink.

With a bit lip I twirled down the hall of creaky wooden floorboards, dusty and filled with peeled paint and morning sunlight. When the sun had kissed my skin, I knew the day had promised to be a good one. The stone patio on the ground floor was covered in dead leaves as usual, dead weeds poking their daisy heads through the cracks, some crawling up the stone pillars of the balusters. There amongst the bees, the overgrown trestle and scent of burnt bacon and black coffee I joined the rest of the residents of the Sanctuary.

“Good morning, Celeste,” Keisuke greeted with a small wave. Cute as ever. He sipped from his favourite golden teacup, white tail twitching. A half-faerie, half-man creature with hair and equal solid black to the white of his mouse-like tail that ended in twitchy fluff, his black glasses round as they were large. He was a sweet man, and every time he smiled, I got to a flash of his two tiny canines.

“Good morning to you, professor,” I returned his sweet smile. He was young, for an academic. But he’d more than earnt his title. But the city drove him out. Just as it had to most of those that sat around. Eager to fill my empty belly, I dug into three slices of home-made olive bread lathered in butter, a slice of salted ham and fried eggs. Tomas stuck to his porridge and strawberries, staring at the speed and absence of grace as I heaved mouthfuls of egg and coffee down. He sat across from me, tall and skinny as he had been for the six months he’d lived amongst us. There was a sharpness to his cheeks, dark rings always present beneath his eyes and a hollowness to his voice I’d never liked. But he’d never bothered me, or anyone else apparently. He appeared for breakfast, dinner on the occasion, but spent most of his hours melting amongst the shadows of the library. Tomas had drifted to the isolation of the Sanctuary from the city as well, for reasons it seemed only Yokomi knew. But he’d brought coin with him, and with coin came honey and ale. And I’d always had a taste for both.

But after a helping of honey soaked waffles, I couldn’t help but notice we were missing two. “Where’s Yokomi and Yerena?” I asked, wiping away some honey against the back of my hand.

“One’s behind you,” Tomas motioned behind me, not bothering to look up from his book. Without warning two arms wrapped around me, pulling me and my chair back into a hug. I flailed helplessly for a moment, and gave my attacker a little shove.

“Yeren!” I gasped. My closest friend and one of the greatest warriors I’ve ever known stood over me with a wide, toothy, perfect smile. She giggled, dreads bouncing as she threw her head back with a laugh at the fear that had flashed on my face. Yeren gave me a light tap on the check with an even lighter kiss on the tip of my nose.

She knows how to make me blush. I returned the light kiss on the tip of her nose. Yeren was also one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever had the pleasure of…knowing.

“You enjoy pushing me a few days closer to my death first thing in the morning, don’t you?” I giggled in reply. Noticing Keisuke glancing at the two of us, (trying to make it appear as though he wasn’t), I gave her ass a slap as she walked past, biting my lip to give him the same look I’d been slipping him the past few weeks. Things had changed between us since that day in the Green House. Besides…I liked seeing him blush. His light skin would turn a deep red, his slim eyes squish as he couldn’t help but close them as he tried in vain to look away from me.

“Celeste, you cretin!” Yeren snapped, her dark eyes narrowing at me. But it was all playful. I replied with a wicked grin, not unlike a certain red-haired captain’s. Yeren poured herself a coffee, and enjoyed her morning tabaco smoke and black coffee leaning over the balustrade, happy to ignore the others and soak up the sun. Lengths of her thick beautiful dreads reached all the way down to her lower back, entwined with gold and silver coils she bound into them every morning. She’d always known a taste for gold and silver. Even her ears and nose were pierced with various ornaments of silver dotted with gems, a gold ring in the side of her nose. She wore a white dress adorned with six silver buckles, each representing a year of service in the Holy Ser’s army. The corded thick muscles of her biceps, calves and thighs also spoke of her service and prowess as an ex-holy knight. But Yerena herself had softened. In some ways more than others.

It was only just as I was about to tease Kei when Yokomi, head and founder of the Sanctuary threw open the patio doors.

She was leader and scholar. Warrior and mother. Tall, always somehow eloquently dressed. Her long silver hair flowed past her shoulders, golden circlets pressed tight around her throat. At their heart, a blue sapphire blazed, staring through each of our souls.

Yokomi was known as the White Harpy.

“Gentleman. Ladies. I have exciting news. We’ll be expecting a new guest this evening. I expect you all to be aiding the cooking staff by evening, then appropriately dressed for the feast. Our guests will be of a particularly high calibre. So please, try not behaving like children.” Yokomi announced, her white wings behind her spread far enough for us all to know she meant it. Well, she meant most of what she said. But this time in particular, Yokomi truly needed us to have our manners about us. I assume we have some actually important guests this evening. But I wonder what kind of guest we could be receiving? Guests aren’t simply guests here.

The Sanctuary was home to half-breeds and broken things. A home for no others. The only place in the world, for a monster such as me.