"Your friend stared directly into an Ophenim's eyes," Zadkiel explained, and his voice had that bored quality of someone explaining something obvious. "Those 'eye-snake' creatures that were chasing you. When you look into their eyes for too long, you become a host."
He gestured to the blindfold. "They can see what you see. Control you, to a degree. If they're hunting you and you give them access to your eyes..." He trailed off meaningfully.
"So the blindfold keeps them from finding us," Diego said quietly.
"Obviously." Zadkiel examined his nails. "Though Ophenims were never a real problem before you lot showed up. I mean, what were you thinking? Breaking the windows?!"
"We were trying to escape!" Zara shot back defensively.
"I told you." Zadkiel pinched the bridge of his nose like we were children who'd forgotten basic instructions. "There is no escape. Once you're in this mansion, you can only survive. Those windows aren't decorative—they're the walls of your cage. The only barrier between you and what's outside."
He paused, and his voice dropped lower. "Even if you'd made it through, you have no idea how far from home you really are."
Something about the way he said it made my stomach turn. Not distance measured in miles. Something else. Something worse.
"So Amara..." Priya's voice was quieter now. "Is she gone? Like, permanently?"
"She'll recover." Zadkiel waved a hand dismissively. "The Ophenim's hold will fade in a few hours. Probably. But that should be the least of your concerns."
He pointed directly at me.
"One of your friends is dead. Another had his soul taken—"
"By you," Priya growled.
"—and now another is rotting from the inside out." Zadkiel's smile was sharp. "Based on the corruption's spread rate, you have approximately five days before it consumes your entire body."
"And then I die," I said, trying to sound brave and failing completely.
"Death?" Zadkiel's smile widened impossibly. "Death is a mercy this mansion rarely provides. No, Ethan, you won't die."
He let that hang in the air for a moment.
"If fallen angels are pure angels corrupted into monsters, then those Ophenims you encountered? They were humans. Just like you. They wanted power, and it corrupted them." He tilted his head, studying me. "In five days, the corruption will consume you, and you'll become an abomination. Like them. I wonder what form you'll take..."
The words hit me like ice water.
Not death. Transformation.
I'd become one of those things—serpentine and covered in grafted eyes, hunting my friends through these halls. I wouldn't be Ethan anymore. Just a thing that used to be Ethan, mindless and hungry.
My parents would never know. They'd just know I disappeared. My mom would pray for me every day while I writhed through these corridors as a monster.
And I'd be aware the whole time it happened, wouldn't I? Feeling myself slip away piece by piece until there was nothing left but—
"Five days?" Diego's voice cracked, pulling me out of my spiral. "That's it? There's nothing we can do?"
"I didn't say that." Zadkiel's theatrical smile returned. "There are always options. The question is what you're willing to pay for them."
"The contract," Priya said immediately, her hand moving to her pocket where she'd stashed the key. "We made a deal. You have to protect us."
"The contract obligates me to protect you from external threats and answer your questions truthfully," Zadkiel corrected smoothly. "It says nothing about curing supernatural diseases. That would require a separate arrangement."
'Of course it would,' I thought bitterly. 'Of course there's a loophole. Why did I expect anything else?'
"Everything's a transaction with you," I said.
"Everything's a transaction everywhere, kiddo." Zadkiel crouched down to my eye level, and for the first time I could see his eyes behind those glasses. They were gold. Not hazel, not amber—metallic gold, like coins. Like currency. "The only difference is I'm honest about the price."
"What's the price then?" Zara asked. "To cure Ethan?"
Zadkiel stood, brushing invisible dust from his vest. "That depends. There are multiple options, each with its own cost."
He held up one finger. "Option one: Figure it out yourselves. Find the library, research corruption, gather ingredients for a potion or components for a ritual. Perform it correctly and you might cure it." His smile was knife-sharp. "I say 'might' because I've never actually seen corruption cured before. But hey, first time for everything, right?"
"And option two?" Priya asked, though her voice suggested she already knew.
"I cure him." Zadkiel spread his hands. "Completely. Remove the corruption, heal the arm, restore him to perfect health. No research required. No risk of failure."
He paused.
"Cost: the key. Right now. No waiting for the month to end."
"No," Priya said immediately. "The contract—"
"Would be dissolved," Zadkiel finished. "You'd give me the key, I'd cure him, and our arrangement would end. No protection. No answers. No help navigating this place." He adjusted his glasses. "You'd be on your own again."
The weight of that settled over us like a burial shroud.
One month of protection in exchange for my life. Or my life in exchange for our only leverage.
'They should take the deal,' part of me thought. 'Trade the key. Save yourself. I have to do everything to survive, right?
'How far will you go to stay alive?'
I'd already voted to kill Levi. What was next? Sacrifice the entire group's protection just to save my own skin?
"There has to be another way," Diego said, and I heard desperation in his voice. "There's always—"
"Not in this mansion," Zadkiel interrupted. "Everything here runs on exchange. Energy for energy. Life for life. Power for power. Those are your options. Choose, or don't. But choose quickly—that corruption isn't slowing down."
We looked at each other—me, Priya, Zara, Diego. Amara twitched in the corner, mouthing silent words to Ophenims that might be watching through her blindfolded eyes.
"So?" Zadkiel grinned from ear to ear, clearly enjoying this. "What's your pick? The key, or your friend?"
The silence stretched. I could see the calculation happening in real-time on everyone's faces.
"We're not giving you the key," Priya said finally, her voice hard.
"Ethan's dying!" Zara stood up, her voice rising. "In five days! You want to just let him turn into a monster?"
"We're all dying!" Priya's composure cracked. "Every minute we're in here, we're dying! The key is the only thing keeping us alive long enough to find a way out!"
"There is no way out!" Zara shot back. "You heard him! We're trapped forever! So what's the point of—"
"Stop." My voice came out stronger than I expected. They all turned to look at me. "Stop fighting about this."
I used the wall to push myself upright, legs shaking. Everything hurt. The corruption pulsed in my chest with every heartbeat. But I stayed standing.
"It's my life," I continued. "I should get to choose."
"Ethan—" Zara started.
"No. Listen." I looked at Priya. "You were right to make that contract. Without Zadkiel's protection, we'd already be dead. Without the key..." I swallowed hard. "We have nothing."
I turned to face Zadkiel, meeting those golden coin-eyes.
"We're choosing option one. Tell us how to perform this ritual. Where to find the ingredients for the potion."
For just a moment, Zadkiel's mask slipped. His jaw tightened. The smile became forced.
He really wanted that key.
"The library," he said finally, and his voice had lost its theatrical flair. "You'll need to go to the library. I'd use my divine energy to heal you directly, but since you've refused that path, you'll have to do it the old-fashioned human way. Research the ritual. Gather components. I can't tell you how to create the potion—I'm a divine being, I've never needed such crude methods."
He straightened his bow tie with sharp, precise movements.
"Find the books. Learn the process. Gather what you need." His smile was tight. "I'll give you directions so you can be on your way and—"
"Wait." Priya held up a hand. "One more question."
Zadkiel's eye twitched. "You're an inquisitive one. What now?"
Priya took a breath. "This place. These monsters. You. All of it." She gestured around the room. "Why does this exist? Why is there a mansion in the middle of nowhere that traps people forever?"
She stepped forward. "And you keep calling this Enoch's mansion. So who the hell is Enoch?"
Zadkiel studied her for several seconds. Then he placed his hands behind his back, and when he spoke, his voice had changed—less performance, more genuine.
"Enoch Enid was an ambitious man," he began. "He wanted to learn the secrets of the angels—"
"Wait," Diego interrupted. "Like, biblical angels? The burning wheel ones?"
"Among others, yes." Zadkiel's smile was thin. "But not the angels you're thinking of. Enid wanted what the prophet Enoch achieved—what was revealed to John Dee and Edward Kelley by the archangels themselves. Divine knowledge. The secrets of heaven."
"And he fucked it up," I said flatly.
"Spectacularly." Zadkiel's voice dropped, and the temperature seemed to plummet with it. "His ritual tore a hole between realms. Thousands of fallen angels and abominations poured through into this structure. To prevent them from escaping into your world, he sealed the mansion."
"Sealed it how?" Priya pressed.
"From your reality. This place exists in a pocket dimension now. A prison." He paused, and something that might have been regret flickered across his face. "Though clearly not a perfect seal, since you children managed to stumble inside."
The room fell silent except for Amara's quiet twitching and the distant sound of something that might have been wind or might have been screaming.
"You need to understand something," Zadkiel continued, and his voice carried weight now, genuine warning. "You're weak. Anything in this mansion can kill you. The library has books on enhancement potions, warding totems, basic protection magic. If you don't learn fast..." He shrugged. "After the one-month contract ends, you'll all be dead within hours. Got it?"
We nodded mutely.
"Good." Zadkiel pulled out a pocket watch, checked it with theatrical precision, then snapped it shut. "The library is on the first floor. West wing. From here, you'll exit this room and turn left down the main corridor. Continue past the gallery—you'll know it by the floor-to-ceiling paintings—until you reach a set of double doors with brass handles shaped like serpents eating their own tails. That's the library entrance."
He adjusted his bow tie. "Simple enough even for children to follow."
"Wait." Priya stepped forward. "You're not coming with us? To protect us?"
Zadkiel's smile was razor-thin. "I'm not your babysitter, darling. The contract obligates me to protect you when you're in actual danger. It doesn't require me to hold your hand through every hallway." He spread his hands in mock apology. "I'll save you when you actually need saving. Until then, you're on your own."
"That's bullshit," Zara said, her voice rising. "You're always finding loopholes! You—"
"I'm honoring the exact terms of our agreement," Zadkiel interrupted smoothly. "Nothing more, nothing less. You wanted protection, not a tour guide."
Diego's grip tightened on the brass candlestick. "So you'll just let us walk into danger and only show up at the last second?"
"If I showed up at the first sign of trouble, you'd never learn to survive on your own." Zadkiel's voice carried a note of something that might have been pragmatism or might have been cruelty. "And you need to learn. Fast."
Before anyone could argue further, he turned toward a different door—not the one we'd entered through, but another one on the opposite wall I hadn't even noticed.
"Where are you going?" Priya demanded.
Zadkiel paused, his hand on the handle. "That's none of your concern."
"Is it about that ritual?" Priya pressed, taking another step toward him. "The one we interrupted when we burst in that other room? What were you doing?"
For a moment—just a flash—something dangerous crossed Zadkiel's face. The theatrical mask cracked completely, and what lay beneath was cold and furious.
"Mind. Your. Business." Each word was precise, sharp as broken glass. "You have the key for one month. That doesn't give you the right to know everything I do. I have my own affairs, and they don't concern you."
"But—"
"The library is west wing. Gallery, then double doors with serpents." His voice had gone flat, empty of all pretense. "Good bye."
Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him with finality.
The room felt colder in his absence.
"Asshole," Zara muttered.
"What do we do about Amara?" Diego asked, looking at her twitching form in the corner. She was still mouthing silent words, fingers drumming patterns only she could understand.
"We leave her here," Priya said, and her voice had that clinical edge again. "She's blindfolded. The Ophenims can't see through her eyes as long as she stays that way. And if we take her with us..." She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to.
If we took Amara with us, we'd be bringing the enemy directly to whatever we found. A living tracking device.
"She'll be safe here," Priya continued, though she didn't sound convinced. "Safer than with us, anyway. We'll come back for her once we have what we need."
"And if something finds her while we're gone?" Zara asked.
Nobody had an answer for that.
I looked at Amara one more time—blindfolded, broken, mouthing words to monsters that were watching through her eyes. Another person I couldn't save. Another weight to add to the crushing pile of guilt and failure.
'Kai's dead. Levi's gone. Amara's possessed. You're dying,' the voice in my head catalogued helpfully. 'Great leadership, Ethan. Really crushing this whole survival thing.'
"Let's go," I said, before I could spiral further. "We're wasting time."
We left Amara in the billiards room, surrounded by mounted animal heads with dead glass eyes. The door closed behind us with a soft click that sounded too much like a coffin lid.
The hallway stretched ahead—long, dim, lined with paintings whose subjects seemed to watch our progress.
West wing. Gallery. Serpent doors.
Simple enough.
Except nothing in this mansion had been simple yet, and I had no reason to believe that was about to change.