Stray half expected to see Mephisto and Azazel again that night, but she didn’t.

Just as she expected to see Gold again, so that she could taunt her with the success of her plan.

But as soon as she pulled the gossamer-light dress the wizard had given her over her head he returned to her. Gesturing with a curt nod that she should follow him, leading her silently- helplessly- through stone passages which looked strangely like those of Shaw Manor, though their sheer charred-with-battle ugliness was enough to convince her that they were not. In fact it seemed to Stray that they must belong to another fortress entirely-

And if that were the case then she knew without doubt that she was in serious trouble.

The red-haired woman did not appear though, and for that she was grateful. The wizard merely marched her through this Wherever-It-Was place mercilessly, giving her no time to slow or rest despite her soreness. Taking no account of how difficult walking is when it’s not under one’s own steam. The deeper inside they went the more frightened Stray became: She spied staircases which snaked up walls and across ceilings like spiders. Passed tapestries which writhed and contorted, faces appearing from beneath the cloth to silently beg for her help. One entire corridor seemed to be carved from human bones, another from teeth both familiar and monstrous. One corridor was lined floor to ceiling with red-tinted mirrors that bled as she passed them; In each looking glass Stray saw another version of herself, saw she and Logan cavort together while Mistress Gold was tortured, saw herself dance and sway naked for Azazel and Mephisto, a look of lecherous ecstasy on her face as the two poured something she doubted was wine across her breasts. Stray wished she could close her eyes but she couldn’t; Unless the wizard gave her a specific instruction it seemed she couldn’t make her body do anything at all. And so she was forced to watch every last, sickening image as she passed it. Forced to ponder where these pictures came from, whether they showed what plans the wizard had for her now that she was all alone. When she got to the last mirror and saw herself slicing at Logan’s throat with a knife she must have made some involuntary sound however because the wizard finally glanced back at her-

“Don’t worry,” he muttered. “That-” he gestured to the mirror- “Won’t ever come to pass my dear.” His smile was sharp as a knife-slit.

“My Mistress will flay the flesh from your sweet wolf’s bones before he ever has to worry himself about being hurt by you.”

It was at that point that Stray began to cry.

Not that the wizard noticed of course. Or maybe he enjoyed the sound of it and didn’t want her to stop. Either way he picked up his pace, gesturing for Stray to follow suit. Marching out of the corridor of looking-glass horrors and further into whatever place this was, the light gradually fading down to twilight the further inside they went. Things unseen slithered in the darkness now, breaths too massive and slow to be human panted through the gloom. Fingers of icy, dead air danced up Stray’s spine the further they walked and she knew without a doubt that she was about to encounter something horrific. Something for which she had no words. Little girl little girl, soft and sweet little girl, gift your heart to darkness and blood will spill for you…Despite her best intentions Stray shook, sweat finally breaking out on her brow. Hands shaking at her sides, fingers clenched so tightly against her palms it hurt. Thin, sensibly-short finger-nails cutting half-moons into her skin. But she couldn’t stop walking. Couldn’t make herself do anything. If the wizard told it to her body would simple refuse to breath as it had done back on the stone table and she would most likely die- Which was something would not allow, not even if her heart was broken.

She would get through this somehow, she told herself. She would do.

And if she had to face Mistress Gold to do it then so much the better: She owed the plague-bitch now for all that had come to pass.

It was with that thought that her journey ended: The wizard came to a halt in another corridor, this one longer and far darker than any of the others. Torches hung at intervals along its length, their flames burning sooty and golden and low. The scent of rot, dust and brimstone was everywhere, the stones around her swaying and swirling uncertainly as if it were not mortar but dust that held them together. As if everything in this place were in actuality nothing but ashes and dust. Before her there stood a massive, completely square door, its surface illuminated with glowing letters in the same hideous alphabet the wizard, Azazel and Mephisto had been marked with. It moaned softly as if human, its voice so sorrowing that it made Stray’s heart crack in her chest. The scent of salty tears hung on the air as if the wood itself could weep; As Stray looked more closely at it, the slats seemed to move as if they could breath. With a tiny hiss the wizard dropped to his knees before it though, pulling Stray down with him-

“Do nothing that I do not bid you to do,” the wizard whispered- As if she had any choice in the matter. “Do you understand me, girl?”

Stray nodded of her own volition and the massive door swung open, having been unlocked by unseen hands.

The wizard squeezed his eyes shut then and straightened his shoulders. Bowing his head reluctantly as if it cost him a great act of will. Stray did likewise without his even having to prompt her. Eyes flicking downwards, resting her forehead momentarily on her knees. At his urging she crawled forward, gaze still floor-bound. She caught only corner-of-the-eye snatches from the chamber surrounding them, the stench of dust and brimstone getting worse the further inside she got. The room was massive, the walls trembling as if made from fire and shadows. Images flickered and burned on their surface, their pictures reminding her of nothing so much as the Stations of Penance she remembered having to study as a child in church. As she moved the flesh of her bare arm brushed against one; Instantly the images began to change and flow, their dust-and-fire traceries dancing like open flames. Their images telling a story from what she could see. The wizard appeared, his face unmistakeable though younger. He was standing in a forest, expression mock-innocent and eager, a red apple held out seductively in one hand, his other gesturing shyly to two little girls. The children were as different from one another as night was from day: One was dark and tanned, her eyes flashing amethyst. The other was pale and blond, her eyes flashing blue. As Stray watched the two little girls darted shyly forward, the little blond maid snatching the apple from the wizard even as it elongated and grew, turning molten and feather-like and golden-

As suddenly as the pictures had appeared they vanished.

The room was left bathed in the dull pall of an ember-spent-fire’s glow.

“You must admit, Belasco,” a female voice said then, “The similarities between this maid’s stories and mine are remarkable.”

And something moved in the shadows, something not quite human. Or perhaps more than human might be a more fitting term. From the corner of her eye Stray saw the wizard flinch visibly, the tattoos on his arms and torso flaring brightly as the stench of burnt flesh hit the air. The brands seemed to be hurting him and wicked, girlish laughter tumbled through the darkness at the sight of it.

Despite herself Stray shivered and remembered Gold’s threats.

The wizard was trying to appear unfazed though. “My Lady did not complain when I made her Mistress of my Court in Limbo,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“And my teacher did not complain when he stole away my innocence and family, did you Belasco?” The female voice was taunting. “Since all you cared about was finding your precious apprentice, no matter what the cost...”

Belasco raised his head to look at the speaker. “You know much about setting aside cost, my Imperial Majesty.”

Her tone was unimpressed. “And you know much about loss now, don’t you?” Again that mocking, youthful laughter sounded. “Just as I your Empress taught you not to underestimate spring maids no matter how harmless they may appear to be.”

And with those words the thing in the darkness moved again. Dragging itself as if it were trying to haul a great and ponderous weight forwards, shuffling slowly towards Stray. Light rising as she- Belasco’s Empress- got closer. Tension winding every tighter through Belasco as his ruler made to inspect his prey. Stray kept her eyes glued to the floor, all the hair on the back of her neck rising. The room becoming ever icier, her breath now frosting before her face for all that she was surrounded by flames. A shadow fell across the floor in front of her, its shape clearly feminine. It was surrounded by some strange, golden aura almost like the one Gold had projected, though this seemed…paler. Sickly. As if it, like everything else here, were composed of nothing save ashes and dust. Two delicate, cloven paws entered her line of vision and Stray felt a small hand reach down to touch her head, the gesture like a benediction. Felt her head tilted upwards though the being who touched her had skin which burned. Skin which felt wrong against her own. Through narrowed lids she saw a beautiful young woman, hair golden, eyes glowing blue and spun-sunlight-yellow. A pair of massive, curved ram’s horns spiralling like a crown of new leaves from her forehead. Glittering, bone-and-platinum armour arrayed across her chest.

“My Empress,” Stray murmured in a voice which she knew was not her own. Her heart twisting with something which was meant to be love for this woman.

The Empress smiled. “Stray,” she said, “I have been waiting for you… We both have…”

And with that the Empress gestured behind her to something glittering and gleaming, something that looked like a filigree-spun cage or prison.

Stray only had time to register that Logan was lying bruised and beaten inside it before she felt sharp nails grip her and push her viciously inside.