Erador used the railing to support his tired body. He counted each step until his boots touched the third floor. With his head down, he dragged his feet across the carpet toward the north corridor. He was eager to reach his bedroom, but flickering light in a nearby room caused him to turn.

  His breathing halted at the sight of the painting through the arched doorway. The firelight created a fiery glow in the piercing, scarlet eyes. Chills jolted down Erador’s spine and drew him into the room. He kept his sights on the painting, walking around the fire pit in the center filled with fresh wood. Black paint covered the skylights and the upper floor was secured by a railing. He couldn't remember the last time light had touched the ominous painting of his father.

  It stretched to just below the upper level, tucked at the head of the hexagonal-shaped room. The scarlet eyes seemed to follow him as he stopped before a glass case. Erador rubbed off the dust to reveal a bird mask on a stand—the same one in the painting. It looked untouched. The red, orange, and yellow feathers were smooth and hooked beak intact.

  To think his father used to wear it. Erador wished he had this mesmerizing mask as a child. Now, it appeared hypocritical with his father not hiding his face anymore. When Judgment stopped wearing masks, Erador was afraid he’d given up, but it was because his father knew he wasn’t fit to fill the role of Judgment. Their Father of judgment no longer sustained the image of youth and power; he couldn’t play god anymore.

  A shudder rippled through Erador as his gaze trailed to the bottom of the painting. His father stood firm with hands tucked at his chest.? Erador recognized the trimmed beard, and caught glimpses of his younger skin, around the mask. He was covered in robes and gloves but that small amount of youth was enough for Erador’s heart to sink. The footfalls behind him couldn’t break him from mourning.

  Father Judgment was carved into the gold plate below the frame. This painting displayed his father at his strongest and made Erador feel smaller. It wasn’t the real him. His father was judging even when not in character. Erador couldn’t help but dip his head as he did as a child, when his father’s nostrils flared and his eyes burned with anger before he would raise his hand at him.

  Eli appeared in Erador’s periphery and moved closer to the painting. Erador wiped his face, destroying the moisture that had leaked from his eyes. The fear of Eli questioning his emotions dissipated when Erador didn’t receive acknowledgment.

  Anger festered in Erador at Eli’s admiration for Judgment. When he studied further, Eli checked every detail, the mask, the body proportions, even the shadowed sunflowers in the background. With a slight smile, he rolled back his shoulders and cupped his hands behind his back. It wasn’t every day Eli looked proud of his work.

  “Doesn’t it make you wish he was back?” Eli said.

  Erador felt regret when he didn’t agree. He tried to picture his father well, but all he saw was a suffering old man.

  “It’s strange to see how he used to be.” Erador’s voice shook when he tried to keep his frustrations clamped in his throat.

  “When he’s well again, it’ll feel like nothing has changed.”

  “I hope he does,” Erador muttered.

  The last thing he needed was his uncaring, unloving, and cruel father back. After what he’d been through, could he change? Would he stop pretending to be a god? Erador could never picture him ending what he took from the witches and the Senith religion.

  “Why did my father use a Senith to represent himself if he hates them?”

  “You learned that from Loma?” Eli raised a bushy brow and Erador scratched his thumb across his lip with a nod. It was the best excuse, and for once, he could thank Loma for her beliefs. “She’s lucky Lord Judgment cares for her otherwise, he would’ve burned her house down for spewing that religion.”

  “Has he done that before?”

  “Not quite, but he would find other ways to make an example out of anyone who opposed his practices.” Eli scoffed. “Funny thing is he adapted other religions to fit his agenda, and it has proven effective for Lucrethia since.”

  Erador crossed his arms. “Physical punishment doesn’t always work.”

  “No, but I believe the process has helped many realize their faults and how they can better themselves.”

  It didn’t change Erador in the way Judgment wanted; it only made him withdraw. His father preached to treat everyone with respect, but he didn’t follow it himself. He wanted to control him.

  Erador faced the red curtains next to the doorway. Brother Retribution was engraved into the silver plaque. He didn’t know if physical punishment was used in the Hall of Judgment, but the idea made him shiver. Erador forced himself past the pillars, raising his shoulders as he moved further from Judgment’s painting. It was a relief to leave it behind, but that wouldn’t stop the questions he had.

  He pulled the silk fabric off the next case. The condition of the Ram’s mask appeared like the bird. The brown fur looked freshly brushed. A patch of white surrounded the nose. The large horns peaked at the head and curled back past the ears, tips ending near the eye holes.

  A ram’s face was much easier to remember than Taurin’s. It had been two decades since his death. Any painting or statue of him was taken down.

  “It’s a shame.” Eli’s whisper carried to the balcony and echoed off the arched ceiling. His steps were light as he followed.

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  It was hard for Erador to process the sadness in Eli’s voice after he’d witnessed how cruel Taurin could be. He didn’t have many ill feelings toward Taurin, just good and bad opinions from others and his father’s were the strongest.

  “Taurin should’ve let Lord Judgment make the call on Gillian’s fate,” Eli said.

  A bitter taste coated Erador’s mouth from the mention of her name. “He didn’t because my father would let it go.”

  “But Lord Judgment’s actions have hurt his image. ” Eli stroked his long white mustache. “Some people haven’t gotten over Taurin’s disappearance.”

  Was Emera still suffering from losing her husband? She never mentioned it, but she had stopped visiting the manor after Retribution was gone. Anytime she had to come around, she was colder, but she wasn’t the only one.

  Erador tried to picture the painting behind the red curtain. Taurin’s intimidating size made him seem more threatening than his father. He remembered being afraid to look at the painting, as if Taurin would climb out of it and punish him. Chills rippled across his skin because the image of a dead man waited behind the curtain.

  “Why wasn’t it taken down?”

  “Lord Judgment wanted to burn it, but I couldn't bear to see it go,” Eli said.

  Erador moved to the last curtain on the other side of the doorway. “Is that why this one is covered too?”

  Eli swallowed, his lips parted for a moment as he gave a nod.

  Erador wiped the dust from the fabric on the case. He grabbed the ends but hesitated. Though he couldn’t recall Taurin’s face, at least he remembered his beard and blue eyes. For this one, he could only picture white feathers, and a divine being; it was how he was meant to perceive her.

  “Sister Absolution,” Erador whispered as he read the plague. “I don’t remember her.”

  Eli cleared his throat. “You were too young, after all.” He smiled, tears built on his lashes and he gazed at the curtain as if he could see underneath. “She was never replaced.”

  Erador let the fabric go. “The Raven killed her.”

  Eli dropped his chin. “Your father lost everything when his pendant was destroyed, but he was never the same after she was gone. The masquerade balls ended, his methods diminished and now... here we are.” His lips lifted, shaking at the corners.

  Emotion flooded into Erador, but it wasn’t for Absolution’s death. His father vented his pain on Erador. The hitting, the distance, his restrictions. Vague memories of his father treating him better vanished when blood coated the white feathers. His breathing heightened and his nostrils flared. He felt guilty for the death of a woman he never knew.

  “He was in love with her,” Erador said.

  Eli averted his eyes and brought them back to Erador. “You can believe that.”

  “Believe it? Why else was he that angry? Maybe that’s why the Raven killed her. To get revenge on my father.”

  Eli wiped his cheeks. “Lord Judgment never explained.”

  “Just like he didn’t explain why he banned witches and crystals or where he found this religious nonsense.” Erador searched Eli’s face where the sadness melted away, overtaken by the beginnings of hope. The same hope Eli had when Erador shared what he learned, or asked questions. “That’s why you gave me that book. It doesn’t have anything to do with Yuni.”

  He caught a smile on Eli’s lips before he flattened them into a line. “But you learned something. I bet you never knew orbid was used to create element crystals.”

  Erador tried to bury the elated feeling he received when he learned that. “It’s useless to me.”

  “It might not be later.”

  Erador’s lips separated. “I can’t believe this. You did it to tease me.”

  “No, I was trying to give you a little push. You’re smart, Erador. I know you can do better than Lucrethia. Judgment, Retribution... A life ruled by religion isn’t for you. You’re a caged moth.”

  “I’m not in a cage.”

  “You might as well be.” Eli sighed. “I’m not telling you to do anything, but think about it. This is something you have been wanting, yet you stay for your father.”

  “I’m not,” Erador barked, hitting his hand on the case.

  Eli’s voice trailed off, “If that’s what you believe…”

  “I have a mark.” Erador shook his right arm. “They’ll kill me if they see it.”

  “And who forced that mark on you?” Eli said, raising his chin.

  Erador caressed his arm and tried to trap the memories of when the needle hit his skin.

  “Excuses, Erador. It’s excuses.” Eli leaned closer, disappointment washing over his features. Erador’s stomach dipped at the look he was used to receiving from others, but never Eli. “Lady Absolution was lost in this religion, lost in your father’s eyes, and look what happened to her.”

  “I’m not lost,” Erador said, his jaw stiffening as he turned away. “I know better.”

  “You think I didn’t warn her? She didn’t listen, like you.” Eli moved closer. “The Raven is free. You should leave while you can.”

  Eli’s gentle hand touched Erador’s stiff shoulder. “Do something for yourself for once.”

  He stayed for a moment and left. Erador let out a breath. Heat swelled in his chest as he stared at the curtain. The divine image of Absolution in her white gown and owl mask was burned into his mind. Not even Shade could help him remember her. He was tricked into feeling comfort from her presence that had morphed into bitterness. Why would Judgment jeopardize his relationship with his son for her?

  Erador ripped the fabric off the case. Dust kicked into the air and irritated his nostrils. It was empty. He moved to the curtain and jerked it aside, but he was left to glare at the cream-colored wall. He clenched his hands into fists. Who the fuck was she?