His Sin

¬Amolet

I stare back at myself in the reflection of the window, tucking a stray thread out of sight.

This is the first job I've ever applied for, and it shows. I've managed to pull what appears to be a formal outfit from the depths of my closet, having struggled earlier to pull my thick hair into a tidy enough bun. Today could be the day I finally gain financial independence. No longer will I have to rely on anyone other than myself. Through the window, I meet the silvery eyes of the shop's owner, who smiles warmly, motioning for me to come inside. The bell jingles above me as I step inside, greeted by the scent of old books and lavender incense.

My friend comes around the counter, tugging his apron off and he looks me over, noting my choice in formal-wear for this interview. "You don't have to do this, you know," he reminds me, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. Leven and I have been friends for as long as I can remember, and as soon as I could, I worked at his family's bookstore. For so long I've owed him everything, and now I'm going to apply at a local mental institution in hopes to start a real career.

"Working for you is nice, but I need my own job," I remind him, watching him tilt his head, thick golden waves brushing against his brows.

"That's the thing, you don't," he comments, raising a light eyebrow. "I can look after you."

I narrow my eyes at him playfully, picking a random book off the shelf before flipping through it. I knew that stopping in here from the small apartment Lev and I share before heading off to my interview would be a mistake. Since last night when I announced it to him he has been trying to talk me out of it. If he had his way, I would be working at the bookstore forever.

"You're my friend, Lev. I'm not going to do that to you," I tell him firmly, falling back onto the plush couch that is a part of the designated reading area. He joins me, knowing there aren't any customers in the store to watch on.

"But I want to look after you. Working in a prison doesn't suit you."

"It's a care facility for people who have been through a lot more than you and me," I remind him. My research has proven that most of the patients there have magic related injuries that have rendered them unable to participate in our society here in the Harmony Pack. Here, society demands perfection, and if you're not close enough to that, you're thrown into a place like where I will now find myself working.

"If you don't get the job, the position is still open for you at my shop," Lev offers, that grin he offers me so characteristically him it warms me from the inside. I sometimes forget he has no officially inherited this store from his parents. I used to have the biggest crush on Lev when we were younger, but once we came out of school and have been living together as friends, I've decided it needs to remain platonic.

"I appreciate you. I'll let you know how it goes," I promise, standing up to give him a hug before quickly pushing through the bookstore door, dodging customers as they breeze. Lev casts one more look toward me. If he wanted to say anymore to me, he decides against it.

***

I sit before the large desk, knees pressed tightly together in fear as I address who may be my boss as he sits before me. When I signed up for this job, I wouldn't have expected my boss to look like this. He lounges casually back in his seat, sifting through the paper before him as if none of it truly makes sense. He wears a back collared button-up shirt, the first couple undone, showing off a mass of tattoos and markings depicting patterns I've never seen before.

They creep up his neck, the ends of some finishing at his jawline. The more I stare at them, the more frightening they become, seeming to shift and move under the light like a living entity.

"What has made you want to apply for this position?" he asks casually, looking at my resume and then back at me, eyes a dark shade of brown.

"I care a lot for people, and I saw this position and decided I wanted to try something new," I say simply, deciding against telling him I need the money and this is the only place that may take me. He runs his finger along his lower lip as he thinks. I've decided this man before me is attractive in this dark, predatory way. Perhaps if a cold chill wasn't buried beneath my skin every time I glance his way, I would be enamoured. Instead, I stare at him warily. Stace, his name is.

"You understand how demanding this position can be. There are many patients who are seriously mentally ill," he murmurs, dark brows raising beneath his black hair, the thick curls concealing them from view. I swallow painfully, my dry throat aching.

"That doesn't mean they shouldn't have a chance to try to live the best life possible, which I'm willing to help with," I tell him firmly. He breathes in for a long moment, studying me.

"This position will have you on the lowest level, where those patients will have magical inflictions. This means they will be beyond repairs," he tells me slowly, clearly predicting I'm hoping to change them, to make them better despite my lack of experience. Yet the undertone of his warning says more than he is letting on. Is he referring to a particular case? Or maybe more than one person?

"Then I will try to nurture them," is all I respond with. Even if they are beyond saving, they are worth taking care of. I just hope I can do it and manage everything else going on in my life. Once Lev knows, he's going to try to convince me to not take this job. Stace leans back, looking over me.

"You live around here?" I nod. "Just down the road."

Stace sweeps his hand back through his dark curls which fall back effortlessly around his forehead and ears. He doesn't look like he should live here, in the Harmony Pack. He doesn't have the common features, yet I've already established he must be a foreigner. Yet there is something more to it than that..something otherworldly, with those markings, those eyes. Don't convince yourself out of this. There is nothing going on.

"So you understand the rumours?" he questions, snapping me from my foolish thoughts.

"Rumours?" I hadn't realised there were any. Stace tilts his head back and forth, quietly considering something. I've lived in this part of the Harmony Pack since I was young. After my parents died I was sent here to live with my Uncle, which is how I met Lev in the local school. Now I live with him, trying to scrape together money to get by day to day. Even if I had heard the rumours here, which I haven't, I would likely still apply to work here.

"Never mind. It seems you will work just fine for the position. Is starting Monday next week work fine with you?" he questions, writing something on the paper before him. I nod eagerly.

"Yes, that's perfect."

"Would you like me to show you where you will be working?" he asks, raising an eyebrow as if it's a challenge, as if he expects me to change my mind. How bad can this place truly be? How badly are the patients here damaged? I have no experience dealing with any magical injuries, yet I'm curious to see how it has affected those here.

"Absolutely." I allow him to guide me out to the main foyer and into the elevator. Watching anxiously, I make note of the fact he has to put a security code into the panel, sending us quickly plummeting downward. He's too tall to be normal, too broad in the shoulders. The way he looks at me suggests he is waiting for me to mention something, but I keep my mouth firmly closed.

"The lowest floor is underground, so there isn't any natural lighting," he comments as the elevator glides to a stop, the light above us flickering eerily.

"I hope that's not an issue."

"No, that should be fine," I reply uneasily. Stepping out of the elevator, we emerge into the underground complex, a long hallway extending out in front of us. Looking around, there are closed doors everywhere, no windows to see inside. I shiver imagining the patients hidden behind, suffering away from the outside world.

"Most of these patients are despondent, so don't worry about holding a conversation with any of them," Stace mutters, leading me down a separate hallway.

"Why is that?"

"Most of them are trapped within their own heads," he admits. As we pass by another hallway, I can't help but look down, seeing darkness, and then as my eyes adjust, I realise I'm looking at cells. The iron bars are a stark contrast to the rest of the facility. This is meant to be a hospital substitute for those with magical injuries. I hadn't realised a cell would be necessary.

"Sad," I breathe. Stace pauses, leaning back against the wall, following my gaze down the hallway lined with cells.

"There's on patient in particular I recommend you avoid." I frown.

"Why's that?" As we meet gazes, I get a sense that he wants to tell me, yet something stops him. Instead, he clears his throat, turning away, motioning for me to follow.

"That doesn't matter," he murmurs. "Let's go get your uniform." I nod as I follow after him, but not without casting one last glance down the dark hallway, wondering what Stace's warning really means.

Pulling against the tight confines of my newly appointed uniform, I follow behind a girl I only just met who apparently works here.

"You have this aisle. All you have to do is make sure no one gets out, or screams, or troubles any other patients. Every now and again you can bring them food," she informs me, pausing at the intersection of the aisle. On one side, it's a normal looking sight of treatment rooms holding patients, however on the other, it's the same strange hallway with dimly lit cells. I shiver, not being able to see past the darkness at whoever dwells down there.

Glancing back at Renna, the overly friendly girl who informed me quickly that she works here almost full time, and will likely be one of the only other workers that I'll see, seeing that our aisles are relatively close together. I don't mind so much, she seems kind, and in reality, I'm just here to make enough money to have some independence.

"How many are down there?" I ask nervously, staring into the darkness, the silver bars appearing more vividly as my vision starts to adjust. I haven't had any experience with magic purposefully, so being this close to many of those who may not wield it, but have been in contact with it is terrifying. This makes me grateful for being a mortal, not having to worry about ever being cast into a place like this, hidden so outsiders don't have any idea it exists.

"Thirteen cells, with nine of them being full," Renna informs me promptly, her white teeth gleaming under the artificial lighting, close in colour to the pale walls and slick flooring. I wonder if I'll ever see her in normal daylight. In here, her blue eyes are a dark, sultry shade, her brunette locks dead straight and light in colour.

"Do you know what any of them are like?" I ask softly, not wanting to speak too loud and at risk of any of them hearing me. My job shouldn't be too invasive, but I can't help my curiosity. "The patients? They are all relatively the same," she remarks with a bored shrug, leaning her shoulder against the wall. This uniform is far more flattering on her, consisting of dark jeans and a tight shirt which sits underneath a covering we are meant to wear around patients. It's sad, really.

"They all have magic related injuries that completely fried their brains." Sighing through my nose, I ignore the chill in my blood.

"That's horrible."

"All except one, right at the end," she muses, pointing into the endless abyss of darkness. I frown, not realising they took anyone else, considering this underground facility is purely for monitoring those with magical injuries, not anything else that's typically mortal.

"Who's in there?" I ask nervously.

"It's a very strange case. One day, Cian, the pure-blood Sin just walked straight in here and admitted himself. He's never requested to leave since," she tells me simply, pushing off the wall to motion for me to follow her. I hesitate, looking back down the hallway, suddenly unsure of whether I want to see and know more, or if I want to flee from here. I know very little of the immortals who are personifications of each sin and virtue, as mortal schools don't openly like to teach anything about it, especially about the sins.

Yet I know enough to be scared, alongside all the horror stories I was told growing up. All I know is that I should be frightened. Anxiously, I follow Renna away from that dark hallway where Cian dwells.

"Wait, why?"

"He wouldn't say. In fact, he hasn't said a word since he arrived," she admits, raising an eyebrow at me, daring me to ask more, already knowing she has lured me in. This is a story she likely shares with all those newly employed here.

"Not to mention he has been here for three years. Not a single word out of his mouth."

"And no one cares?" I question. If he hasn't had any particular injury, they should be trying to help him, trying to figure out what would lead him to admit himself into this facility.

"There's nothing we can do. He's a pure-blood, he makes his own decisions beyond us," she tells me. A dark shadow passes over her eyes, brows furrowing slightly. This is rhetoric she has been told by someone higher up, warning her not to question it. Curiosity mingles with fear within me, stinging beneath my skin.

"Maybe I can make him talk," I offer. I'm willing to try, knowing this is just a job, but I want to be able to help. Who would want to live in this miserable place willingly. Renna turns around as she opens the door to the staff room, motioning me in through a veil of hazy dust and stale scent from an incense nearby. The way she looks at me, smiling slightly while shaking her head, suggests she is amused by me.

"Unlikely," she notes, tossing her clipboard onto a nearby table. "We've all had a go at it, but he's adamant about not saying a word."

Stiffly I sit down on a wooden chair, wishing there were windows in this concrete box they call a staff room, even if there would be nothing to see outside. I'm not sure how far underground we are, but it's enough to cast everything in a sense of coldness, the air stale and thick. Thinking about what it's like to live in here permanently leaves me with an uncomfortable sense of unease.

"So now what?" I ask, mind numb from the extensive tour of the facility that I just experienced and all the information I have since acquired. Lev will be fascinated to hear all this, although will attempt to convince me to not work here, considering how dangerous being in the proximity of an immortal sin is.

"Like I said, make sure everyone is quiet and not bothering each other. I'll come back at lunch," she tells me, sending me off with a quick wink, leaving me shrouded in silence. Well, I suppose I better get to work.

***

A week past and I didn't let into the temptation that has been persistently buzzing inside me since my first day. I've seen Renna in passing, who keeps me up to date with all the work-related gossip, which usually involves her patients. I haven't dealt with any particularly difficult patients, most ignoring me or are bound down to their beds.

Each has a vacant, far off look in their eyes, touched by the darkest magic that I hope to never witness in my life. ' Although that doesn't seem likely, since I've decided I have to do it. I have to speak to Cian. I'm not sure why I want to speak to him so desperately. Perhaps it's the mystery, or the fact that everyone tells me to avoid him, which isn't difficult considering he doesn't need food like everyone else. Or maybe it's my desire to help him. It's only been five days that I have been working here and already I'm haunted by the idea of living here, of this being a full-time reality. It sticks with me, even after I hang up my uniform and remmerge into daylight again.

And if he is behind these bars, he won't be much of a threat to me anyway...Why would he decide to attack me when he hasn't even moved from here in many years. I wait until Renna is taking her break for me to risk venturing down the dark hallway, knowing she will be invested in her favourite book and snack for the next half-hour. The bottoms of my shoes tapping against the floor disrupt the perfect silence, the lighting dim down this end, although as my eyes adjust, I am able to see the steel bars of the cells and even into them.

Most I pass are empty, although some have hunched figures curled up on the floor, starting anywhere but at me. I've dealt with these patients before...they are the most frightening, as they appear to be functioning bodies with a mind wiped away by magic. I walk all the way to the end, shivering at the brittle air that seeps through my clothing, struggling not to cough at the stagnant, stale air that dwells back here. How can anyone live like this? I reach the end cell, pausing in front of it.

There isn't much to see, but there is no missing the fact that I'm starting at a pure-blood immortal sin. It just seems so...obvious. He leans against the far wall, legs sprawled out in front of him, wearing dark trousers and grey tunic that look awfully clean for someone who hasn't accepted any clothing or other possessions from anyone else working here. His hair is damp, hanging down in front of his face, falling short at his eyelashes.

My breath catches in my throat as I realise the roots of his hair are golden, the colour spilling out before fading away into ebony ends.

"Hi Cian," I breathe, inwardly cursing at my shuddering breath, the way my nerves seem so apparent. I crouch down, wanting to be somewhat level with him as I grasp a steel bar, nearly flinching away at it's slimy texture. "I'm Amolet."

He doesn't respond. Instead, he stares downward at his hands, not moving a single inch. There's no sign of life there, no sign that he has a working mind, any ability to be coherent. It has my stomach sinking, which is a feeling I've become accustomed to here. It's sad seeing people like this, cast into their own vacant world due to something as wicked as magic.

"I'll be working here from now on, so I hope we can...get to know each other," I offer lamely, the cheer in my voice diminishing with each word that passes my lips. Again, no movement. Not even a flicker of recognition in those dark eyes. This was a bad idea. I should have listened to Renna and not wasted my time coming down here, I mean, what did I think was going to happen? If he wasn't willing to speak to a single soul since coming here, why would he have any interest in me?

"You don't have to talk to me, just know that I'll be here," I say simply, standing again. I'm not sure what I hoped for. Maybe a nod, perhaps for him to even meet my gaze. Once again, there is nothing, but I silently affirm to myself that this isn't the last time I'm going to speak to him.

¬Amolet

Lev holds his bag of chips toward me, waiting for me to delve my hand in before he pulls it back.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, you've only been working there a week," he mutters while I eat. I sigh through my nose, recalling my rather embarrassing confrontations with Cian recently. Every night I have attempted conversation with him, tempting him to speak, although he hasn't done so yet, not even gracing me with a glance. It's made me wonder if there's actually anyone in there, like Renna personally theorises.

However, I can't quite grasp that idea...I mean, he's a Sin, he cannot be killed so easily, nor lose his state of mind. He's simply ignoring me. But I'm not going to give up.

"I know," I breathe, the tips of my bare toes brushing up against the surface of the water beneath me. "I just feel like it's my duty to reach out to him."

Lev and I often drive a few miles out of the city to a nearby lake to escape the bustle of the city and to relax in nature. We have been doing this since we were in school, bring snacks down, mostly at night to stare at the stars and share what we desire in life. Recently we haven't been able to do it, with both of us being so busy.

"And you have. But at the end of the day it's just a job, and he put himself in that situation. You don't owe him anything," Lev reminds me, laying back against the wooden dock. I join him, looking up at the glittering canvas of the night sky.

"Doesn't it make you wonder why he did it? Put himself in that situation?" I question into the air. I'm not sure what it is about this man that has fascinated me so much. There are plenty of patients who cannot speak, yet Cian has taken my interest. Perhaps it's because he is powerful, and he made a choice to enter the facility. I could never imagine living there willingly. Lev turns his head to look at me, the silvery blue of his eyes similar to the way the stars glimmer.

"He's a Sin, he probably knows he's insane."

"No one at work talks about him," I note. Except Renna, of course, although only mentions him in passing. Everyone else likes to pretend he doesn't exist, avoiding the conversation whenever I bring it up. "They like to pretend he doesn't exist."

"Maybe you should too," he offers, smiling at me lightly. "I'm only saying that because you seem so troubled by him."

"I'm not. I'm just curious," I tell him. I'm used to telling Lev everything, relying on him to hear me out and make sense of everything. This time, though, I don't want to hear him rationalise this, already know it's unreasonable that I'm so drawn to him. Cian must have realised that by now, since everyday this week I've approached his cell and tried to communicate with him to no avail. He nudges me in the side, making me jump.

"Do you need more friends or something?"

"No, you're all I need, Lev," I giggle. And I mean it. Lev has been my main friend for so long, and I adore him. Even if I never found my mate, as long as I have him as a friend, I would be happy. I truly hope the same goes for him.

"Good. This guy isn't worth worrying about," he jokes, although I sense he means it. And maybe he is right.

***

I walk down the dark hallway, book tucked under my arm. Evening has approached, my shift almost over at the facility. As usual, perfectly on time, I wander down the hallway, glancing into the cells I pass by. Today, I'm taking a different approach to my meetings with Cian, deciding that I'm not going to be able to get him to speak with just me. I need to lure him into, make him trust me.

Pausing in front of his cell, I settle down onto the ground, not minding the hard concrete beneath me. Not surprisingly, he's sitting in the exact same spot, leaning against the wall with his legs outstretched in front of him, staring blankly ahead of him. Admittedly, every time I lay eyes on him, my heart flutters in the strangest way. He isn't exactly mortal looking, with the golden roots of his hair spilling out into dark ends, dark eyes hiding unspoken secrets and a life far beyond my personal experience.

It makes me grateful he is sitting behind those bars, not a threat to me or anyone else in here. I sit there for a long moment, wondering what to say. Usually, it's the same mantra I produce, but since it's not working, I want to try something different today.

"You won't even look at me," I murmur weakly. It's only been a week, and yet I'm sure he can hear the exhaustion in my voice. I've indebted myself to what may be failure. And for what? Even if he does speak to me, risking delving into his life is a dangerous game, being that he is a Sin.

Lev has already reminded me of that at every moment he can, still skeptical of me working in the near vicinity of Cian. If only he knew what I was doing now...

"You can't truly be Greed if you've locked yourself away from material possessions for so long," I note, recalling thoughts I've had since meeting him. He hasn't once asked for anything, which is so out of character for what I assume he is meant to be, as a Sin.

Again, he doesn't acknowledge me, making me sigh. Maybe it's time to give up on this hopeless theory that I can make him speak, that I can try to make his experience here more bearable.

"What if I just sit here, and make you talk to me?" I question. Him and I both know that I'm not going to sit here all night and wait for him to speak, but I can't help myself but to say it. He could sit here for decades without saying a single word. Just as I was about to look away, his head suddenly turns and he is looking at me, the slightest hint of a frown gracing his usually still forehead.

For a moment I'm stunned, words falling short at my lips. I had been considering more ways to get him to speak, but now that he is looking at me, I don't have any more words that feel adequate. Feeling his gaze on me, knowing he knows I'm here and that there is truly something going on inside his head is daunting. I've spent so long trying to get to this point, and now suddenly I'm started. Swallowing uneasily, I tuck my hair back over my shoulder, trying to gain some more composure.

"I was hoping you would talk to me first, but I suppose not," I mutter, holding his gaze with the same intensity as he gives me. "I brought you a book."

His eyebrow quirks, and now I know I've finally got his attention. I'm not sure what made him decide he wanted to finally acknowledge me, but now I have it, I have to get him to trust me. No one, including Renna, needs to know about this. If they do, they will try to reach out to him, and then he will never open up to me. He watches me cautiously as I show him the front cover of the book. He may not even enjoy reading, but eventually he would have to become so bored he would take anything, right?

"It won't mean much to you, but it was a favourite from my childhood. Very fantastical. If I were bored I would want to read it," I tell him. Sadly, I don't read much anymore. He doesn't move, as I put my hand through the bars of his cell, resting the book against the concrete floor.

"You don't have to read it," I tell him, suddenly self-conscious that he is judging me. He's a pure-blood immortal who I doubt has any interest reading a child's novel. Regardless, I'll sleep better tonight knowing I gave it to him.

"I just hope you see why I'm doing this." He looks at the book, and then back at me again, the dark ends of his hair raining down into his thick eyelashes.

"Run, Amolet," he breathes, his tone making me shudder. "Before I have to watch this place take your innocence."