The seamstress squints at her, taking measurements of her figure to make her dress for the debutante ball. She shrinks under the older woman’s gaze, judgment scalding her skin.

“Stand up straight,” the seamstress said. “I can’t get your measurements if you slouch.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. She stands still, anxiously waiting for the older woman to be done with her work.

Over the past half hour, she had been subjected to the snide remarks of the seamstress, all of which were beginning to get under her skin. Lillian hadn’t been able to stand her, disappearing from her head altogether, leaving Nicole to deal with the seamstress’s “helpful tips.” The grumpy old woman had suggested that she cut back on sweets, which hadn’t been so bad until she made a show of letting out the loudest gasp Nicole had ever heard when she took her hip measurements. From then on, the seamstress had told her to starve herself repeatedly so that not only would she slim down and lose all resemblance to a pig, but her blemishes would also fade by “some miracle of God.”

To say that her feelings were hurt was an understatement. Even in her former home dimension, she had trouble meeting society’s beauty standards.

“You should aspire to be like a fragile lily,” the seamstress continued. “Delicate and pale. And might I recommend some nightshade for your eyes? It would make them look brighter.”

The older woman’s words were like hot oil pouring down her ears. She balls her hands into fists, resisting the urge to cry. She had been so busy serving Lillian when she first arrived at the Charis Realm and distracted by the ensuing events that she had forgotten how insecure she was about her body. She stares in the mirror, watching her reflection distort into a hideous version of herself.

You’ve tolerated literal torture. So why does this hurt so much?

"I don't see anything wrong with the lady," Cedric interrupted, entering the room. “In fact, I think that she’s got the brightest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

She blushes, flattered by the Lord’s compliment. But her smile falls from her face just as quickly as it appears. “Pretty eyes” was the compliment given to unattractive women. After all, who would have the gall to say someone was born with ugly eyes?

“My Lord,” the seamstress said, quickly crumpling into a curtsy. “How kind of you to visit us. While the lady’s eyes are certainly the most manageable part of her appearance, you can’t expect her to attract a bevy of suitors looking as she does now.”

“While I appreciate your assistance with the lady’s appearance,” Cedric said, struggling to keep the malice out of his voice, “you’re only paid to make the dress.”

“But my Lord-”

He gives her a withering glare. “Or shall I find myself another seamstress?”

The older woman gulps. “No, my Lord. I’ll take my leave now that I’ve finished with the lady’s measurements.” She scurries out of the room, eager to escape her embarrassment.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Nicole said, still facing the mirror. Cedric walks up to her, confused.

“Why shouldn’t I? I’m paying that woman to make you look good.”

“You don’t understand,” she said. “That woman was right. I’m not pretty enough. Even if I did starve myself or give up sweets, the moment I walk into that ballroom, no man will look at me.”

And even you don’t look at me like a woman, she thought. I’m just a sister to you and we aren’t even related!

“That seamstress is a bitter, old spinster. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“You’re just saying that to spare my feelings. I can handle the truth,” she said.

He comes closer to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. Her skin tingles from his touch, sending involuntary shivers down her back.

“Can you handle the truth? Because the truth is, you are beautiful, Nicole. Any man in that ballroom would be lucky to have you.”

I would rather you have me, she thought, every fiber of her being craving more of his touch.

“I’m not sure I believe that,” she replied. The seamstress didn’t lie. She had numerous blemishes, a large figure, and eyes dull from lack of sleep. She could hardly call herself beautiful. At best, she was plain.

“I believe it,” he whispered, his breath fanning her ear. She was suddenly aware of the Lord’s proximity and the way his gaze lingered on her figure. She watches his eye slowly travel down her body, undressing her with his gaze. The room became hot as if the flames of hell were licking the floorboards.

He closes the distance between them, letting his head sink into the crook of her neck. His hands slide from her shoulders, wrapping themselves around her waist.

“My Lord,” she breathed, feeling warm all over. “What are you doing?”

“That’s not my name,” he said. “Will I have to punish you for not listening to everything that I’ve told you?”

Another involuntary shiver runs through her body at the word “punish.” Something about the way he said it filled her mind with dirty thoughts.

“Cedric,” she said. “What are you doing?”

She could feel him smile against the sensitive skin of her neck. “I won’t let you go until you say that you’re beautiful.”

“Huh?” The Lord’s arms pressed against her waist, wrapping themselves even tighter around her body.

“I refuse to let you debut thinking that you’re ugly. No proper lady should feel that way coming out to society,” he said sternly.

“But-”

“Say it,” he commanded. “I won’t let go until you do.”

Maybe I don’t want you to let go, she thought. What if I disobey you? Will you punish me then?

“Are you thinking of disobeying me?” Cedric’s words jolted her from her thoughts.

“N-no,” she stammers. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Liar,” he whispers. “You were thinking of it just now.”

She blinks. Could demons read minds? She asks the Lord how he knew.

“I didn’t,” he said. “You just told me. Now, why don’t you act like a good girl and say it?”

“Say what?” She plays dumb, hoping he would drop the subject.

“Say that you’re beautiful,” he said, leaving a trail of kisses on her neck.

She gasps, shocked by the intimate gesture. She can’t help but melt in his arms at his relentless teasing.

“I’m beautiful,” she surrenders, nearly slurring her words. “Happy?”

The Lord raises his head, staring into the mirror. He blinks, suddenly realizing that position he was in. He pulls away, his head swiveling from Nicole to the mirror.

“Cedric? Is something wrong?” She felt cold outside of his embrace, wrapping her arms around her own body to replace his warmth.

He pushes his dark hair from her forehead, refusing to meet her eyes. “Aaron was right.”

“About?” The tension in the Lord’s body worried her. He looks at her, defeat clouding his eye.

“You are the worst kind of distraction,” he confessed. “You’re beautiful, you have great taste in books - it’s like you were made to be my undoing.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. What was he saying?

“Look, if I’ve done something wrong, I can leave,” she said, confused by his outburst. “I won’t be your distraction any longer.”

He doesn’t respond, facing the window. She felt a thorn stab her heart. He couldn’t even bear to look at her. She leaves the fitting room, bunching her skirt up her hands and muttering curses under her breath.

How could she ever think the Lord had feelings for her? She was a fool for believing he’d ever return her affections. But then why did he look at her like that? Why touch her like that? Her mind goes over every interaction with him. There were the two sleepless nights they shared together, drinking milk and listening to piano music. Had it meant nothing to him? What about the days he took care of her bedridden? Or that night he had told her his life story? He had been so vulnerable with her then.

You are a fool, Lillian said. But not for the reasons you think.

Shut up, she thought. She was in no mood to deal with the goddess, not after that confusing interaction with Cedric.

If you ever want to go home and leave this place, just say the word, the Fallen Mother said, coaxing her.

I don’t even know where home is, she thought mournfully. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave. Even though there was a bloodthirsty goddess after her, something was holding her back.

Is it a certain demon lord? Is he the reason why you can't go back?

She sighs. A demon lord who thinks I'm a horrible distraction. She makes her way into the garden, sitting on the grass.

Then there's nothing stopping you from going home, the goddess said. I can teach you to create a portal now.

Will it involve sacrificing a baby? She thinks this sarcastically, remembering Cedric's story of how the Family summoned Aaron.

No. That's only for hell creatures. All you need to do is kill a cat.

Somehow, that seemed worse to Nicole. She imagined Mr. Whisker's body on the grass, bloody and broken.

I refuse. No death, she said adamantly.

No sacrifice, no portal, replied the Fallen Mother. Magic always requires a price.

She thinks back to the night she healed Cedric. What was the price for that?

That's different. Entering another dimensional plane requires an energy transfer, a payment to the gatekeepers so that they may transport you safely through space and time.

I won't kill Mr. Whiskers, she thought, putting her foot down.

That mongrel has a name? Listen, dear, let me make your decision even easier for you. It's either this cat or yours. You saw what your magic did for your darling demon boy. Don't you want to heal your cat with the abilities I've given you?

The ends don't justify the means, she countered.

Machiavelli would say otherwise, the goddess said. You traveled to the Charis Realm for your cat’s sake. If you choose not to save him, wouldn’t your journey have been pointless?

She thinks about her dying cat back home, forced to take medicine to breathe properly. If he died, it would be her fault, especially now that she had the ability to save him. But did she really have to take one life to rescue another?

Mr. Whiskers walks over to her, resting his body in her lap. She runs her fingers through his soft, dark fur, scratching behind his ears. The cat was fond of her, which made it even harder to betray him. Her hands find Mr. Whiskers’s neck. Animals didn’t have morals. If she killed him, he wouldn’t know she committed a sin. A single tear rolls down her cheek. If she had to pay the price, so be it.

Before she could move to snap his neck, bright, blue butterflies sprouted from her fingertips, landing on the cat’s small nose. Mr. Whiskers raised a paw to swat the insect away, but more butterflies landed on his fur, covering him from head to tail. She steps away from the cat, hundreds of butterflies flying out of her flesh to attack Mr. Whiskers.

What the hell is going on?

She closes her hands, trying to stop the army of insects from crawling out of her skin. The butterflies on the cat begin to glow, turning the animal into a ball of light. Then, all at once, the butterflies disappear, disintegrating into a fine blue powder in the grass.

“Mr. Whiskers?” On the grass, in place of the black cat was a misshapen lump of feathers.

It can’t be, Lillian said. There’s no way.

The feathers begin to unfold themselves, unfurling into a pair of magnificent black wings. A distant memory clicks in her brain. When she had fallen through the portal into the Charis Realm, someone had saved her from crashing into the ground, someone who had a pair of black wings.

That person stood before her now, in his full naked glory.

She averts her eyes from the space between his legs, overwhelmed by Mr. Whiskers’s sudden transformation. He kneels before her, causing her to take a step back.

“Who are you?” She asks the question in a low voice, afraid to disturb the mysterious winged being. Before the man could speak, Lillian answered her.

Raven, the Fallen Mother whispered, awed by the sight of her dead lover. Welcome home.