The chamber torches flared to life as she stepped in and she heard Constantine's curse under Zufar's gasp of horror.

"What madness is this?" Constantine hissed, stepped forwards, eyes wide and skin pale.

Marie-Fey looked back at the other two.

Zufar looked faint.

Sobia was steady and cold as ever, but her eyes betrayed her. She wasn't in shock, she just appeared to be in pain, her eyes focused on the bodies of the women around them.

Lifting her skirts, Marie-Fey latched the torch into the wall and then made her way down the steps.

"Bring the sheets, we need to prepare them all for departure," she said simply, walking to the first of the women.

The sympathy she had for the women who had lost their lives before her was instantly replaced by disgust at the notion of having the handle their corpses.

Constantine started to spread the sheets out across the floor, then stared up at the women handing from the balcony by their necks. He looked physically ill.

Marie-Fey reached over and squeezed his arm.

"I'm sorry you're seeing this," she muttered.

Constantine stared at her, opening his mouth, and his words failed him.

She squeezed his arm again then turned to one of the women in blue, sat in a chair, a gilt mirror on her lap.

"Her first," she said and Zufar shuffled forwards. Together, with painstaking care, they lifted the fragile body from the chair. It was rotted to the point of barely hanging together and Marie-Fey's skin crawled as she held the head and neck steady until the body was laid out on the first of the sheets.

Sobia then quickly and efficiently wrapped the corpse tight, tied the two ends and she was ready to be carried out of the chamber.

The next body was bone and the first touch sent her tumbling to pieces, like a power had fled the bones and they gave up on their pretence at being a human anymore.

Constantine knelt and carefully started to pick up the pieces, gathering the gown and accessories, laying them out with pristine care on a sheet and then folding it up, Sobia tying the ends up again.

And so, on it went.

At one point, Marie-Fey noticed Sobia stood in front of a women in red, the woman's necklace resting her hand, his gaze distant, and almost forlorn.

"Recognise something?" she asked, coolly, stopping beside her.

"I knew this girl. She was... ohhh... two lifetimes ago, I suppose? A wonderful, kind mistress. Nothing like you. I... had so hoped that she had fled in the night like the rumours said. I didn't want her to be... involved in this." She carefully let the necklace settle back into place and then walked away, closing the conversation down in an instant and that was it.

They moved to the next body, and the next and the next and the next.

Marie-Fey stopped thinking about the numbers very quickly. She didn't want a count of all the women who had been victims in a game they had no power in. When it came to the ones hanging from the balcony, she picked up a decorative blade from one of the tables and made her way up while Constantine and Zufar held a sheet out ready.

The first woman was cut free and plunged into the sheet, the force crippling the corpse and they quickly rolled her up and prepared for the next, their eyes vacant and detached from the horrible task.

Eventually the hour grew too late and the group was hungry, tired and too disturbed to continue.

They still had some days to work, so Marie-Fey called an end to the evening. The other three rushed from the chamber without another glance, striding away back to the safety and sanity of the world above.

Marie-Fey, who had wanted them to take at least some of the lighter bodies with them, let them go. She would have to have them start in a few short hours again anyway.

She slowly made her way up the steps, back to the door, glancing back at the dismantled chamber.

Just because so many bodies had been wrapped up and hidden, it didn't take the horror away from the room. The knowledge saturated the walls and tainted the fine furnishings. It needed to be cleansed in fire and the bodies properly buried or cremated.

But before that, she had to hope she could simply best her husband.

~~~~

The following morning, after they had eaten, Marie-Fey hurried the trio back to work. She almost didn't expect to see Sobia, but the old woman was there to help load more bodies into sheets and tie the ends.

It took most of the day again, but finally, after the majority of bodies that she could find were secured, she pointed to Constantine and Zufar and gave them the thankless, heavy task of carrying the bodies from the chamber to the outside world.

"We should have removed the gowns and jewels," Constantine muttered in irritation.

"Leave them a little respect in the death. They certainly weren't graced with it in life," Marie-Fey shot back and he closed his mouth, considering the first options, then hefted up two of the lighter loads and simply turned and walked up the stairs.

Zufar followed his example, grabbing two bundles, paling as the bones moved against his muscles, then hurried to follow.

Marie-Fey turned to Sobia just as the woman heaved up one of the bodies.

"You're going to carry one all the way back?" she asked, staring.

"I'm not as weak as I am old, girl," Sobia shot at her, holding the body close, "And I want my mistress to be freed quickly."

"Ah," Marie-Fey muttered, glancing at the sheet, then letting it go.

Sobia climbed the stairs and departed, leaving Marie-Fey alone in the chamber.

She glanced at the bodies, then turned away and climbed one of the many stairways that stretched off the main floor, towards balconies and little rooms.

Sixty or more bodies they had discovered.

Sixty wives and mistresses brutally killed and abandoned in a macabre collection of power. A complete relinquishment of human sanity.

For what?

A dash of magic.

A thousand lives.

A touch of madness.

She shook her head as she wandered the rooms, searching for more bodies. Counting the minutes in her head. Listening for the return of her brother and servants.

Eventually she heard the distant breath of voices as they returned, speaking to each other in harrowed, tired tones. And then the voices faded again as they left with another load.

They eventually returned and left again. Working at the steady pace. Once they were out of the hidden tunnels, she would have they moved again. The letter had said the source of power needed to be move from the darkness.

She didn't know if the darkness referred to the literal darkness of the chamber, or the darkness of his entire state which he had gained through their sacrifice. Either way, she would have to have them moved again just to make sure.

She stepped into another room, looking around. It was a dressing room. She couldn't understand why this labyrinth of rooms was created to mimic the rooms of women. Why torment their ghosts further? Or was it a strange flash of kindness? Give them beauty in their prison? It didn't seem to fit with Zahir, who didn't care about the women at humans.

Maybe Zaydan, during one of his moments of knowledge, had made the request and Zahir had indulged him.

She looked across the room at a huge ornate mirror, decorated with rose vines and angels and something about the glass was... wrong.

She frowned, walking forwards, trying to peer past her reflection. She couldn't decide exactly what was wrong with the reflection, but something was off.

Feeling the fool, she cupped her hands around her eyes and squinted through the glass.

The light shifted and she could actually see inside. The mirror wasn't a flat surface, it hid a secret compartment.

And the skull of yet another woman looked back at her through empty, black eyes, one side of her face shattered, making her jolt back and recoil, eyes wide as the reflection of her and the room came back into focus.

And Zahir's reflection watched her with cool, calculating eyes from the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded.