Dawn seemed to come quickly, a band of crimson sky overtaking the night's deep blue. Zoisite watched the stars as they were put out one by one, pale sun still caught in the veil of trees.

He's sat there all night in the parlor with Luna alert and silent beside him, evidently struck dumb by what the young king held in his hand. For there was clutched the kitchen knife, its blade teased at intervals by the tender flesh of his thumb.

Not a word was spoken by him, for no one- not Luna, nor any other watching parties- must know of his paralyzed resolve. But what was he to do? When he had grabbed that knife in his fever, he had thought of death so readily - Kunzite's, his - anything that would send him away from the house. Had he not stopped at the landing to watch his hands shake, he might have ran up with the knife. Instead, he had turned back and sat down, back rigid, one hand going to his bruised cheek.

The house, too, had been largely silent. Every so often there was a sigh of air, followed by a creak in the woodwork, accountable perhaps to an outside breeze. But nobody, not even Kunzite, moved within the upstairs rooms. With Luna's silence she seemed barely a presence. Zoisite felt alone within house, like a dueler standing a ten paces, pistol raised skyward. His adversary, though, had yet to appear.

A loud crack sounded from behind. Zoisite leaped off his seat, one hand clinging to the knife, the other escaping to strike Luna across the nose.

"Jadeite!"

The blond king froze upon the stairs, flinching at the noise his foot had made upon it, and the reaction it had elicited from Zoisite. "Gomen...." He looked down at the step as though angry with it.

"What are you doing down here?" Zoisite asked, trying the keep the quaver out of his voice. He realized with some shock the knife still clasped in his hand, and lowered it, ambivalently tucking it behind his back.

"I should ask you the same thing," said Jadeite, reaching the bottom of the stairwell. He was barefoot and his uniform top was unbuttoned. His hair rose from his head in a great yellow mass, artfully sculpted by his pillow as he slept. He nodded to Zoisite. "Why are you holding a knife? Were you planning on eating the cat?"

Luna gave him a baleful look. "I'll leave." She trotted off into the hall.

Zoisite remained silent, looking at the points of his boots. He jiggled the knife in his hand, still keeping it behind his back.

Jadeite persisted, "I only ask because I was planning on getting one of those myself."

Zoisite's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

The blond king passed him by, walking to the sofa and sitting down ungraciously. The rising sun poured in through the tall windows, catching him in the eye and making him blink and scrub at his face. Then he turned to Zoisite. "When I awoke this morning, there were no blankets on my bed."

Zoisite blinked at him.

"I woke up because I was cold," Jadeite elaborated, "and I was cold because there were no sheets on my bed." He crossed his legs. "I rose from my bed to see if I had... er... kicked them off in my sleep. I couldn't find them. It was then that I discovered the real origin of my chill; the window was open. Just a little crack." Jadeite smiled softly. "Come here."

With that, he leaped off of his seat, leading Zoisite with haste across the foyer. The young king let himself be dragged along, skipping a bit to match Jadeite's stride.

They stopped within another room across the hall, a study with a similar set of high windows. Yet these were closely shrouded by trees, and the light was nowhere near as intense. Jadeite walked over to the windows and nodded upwards. "Have a look."

Cautiously, Zoisite crept over, leaning close so his head was pressed against the cool glass. Craning his head, he looked up into the trees.

Festooned among the branches were Jadeite's bed sheets, quietly waving in the breeze. There were three of them in total, a white undersheet, a heavier brown blanket, and a woven counterpane, which had escaped to hang precariously from a few snagging twigs.

"I have a feeling that I'm not welcome anymore," said Jadeite, his breath fogging the window. Then he turned to Zoisite. "I can't believe I was so foolish as to ignore the... oddities... of this place. I was an idiot, to disregard the vice that I felt present from the moment we arrived. But I scolded myself for being afraid- even a little- for nothing could be more dangerous than Beryl's court." He smiled ruefully. "I had... I had hoped... that even though I was lost, at least I could live freely."

Zoisite watched Jadeite silently.

He continued, "But everything that has happened here makes it seem as though I have no place other than the Dark Kingdom."

"Jadeite--"

"And when I went to importune the help of the others, I found their doors locked shut...."

"What?"

"Nephrite's and yours, locked. That's why I came down here, to see if I could ask that cat if she knew of anything- "

"Kunzite-sama!" Zoisite cried, leaping away from the window. He sprinted to the stairs, paused hesitantly with the kitchen knife in hand, then thundered his way up the spiral.

Luna's head jerked up as she heard the footsteps galloping up the stairs. Deviating from her previous amble through a back corridor, she trotted out into the foyer. There she found Jadeite, standing listlessly with his arms at his side, looking with an artless bafflement at the place where Zoisite must have been standing a moment ago.

"What happened here?" she asked, taking a glance at the upper floor landing.

"I hadn't thought he was so agitated," answered the blond king enigmatically. Then, as though attempting to sort through his own thoughts, "There had been a... disturbance... upstairs, and I told Zoisite that the doors to the bedchambers were all- "

"Wait!" Luna hissed, ears flattening.

Jadeite fell silent, blinking at the cat.

"Do you smell that?" she whispered.

With the doors in the upper hallway shut, there was no light from the bedroom windows to brighten Zoisite's passage. He crept down the corridor, boots tapping lightly on the floor boards. Their bedchamber was the one at the very end of the hall, and had Kunzite indeed not stirred all night, he would still be within.

Zoisite's palms were damp, and the wood of the knife handle slipped precariously. He passed Nephrite's room, its door dark and silent. For a moment, Zoisite was caught with the impulse to knock on it, to entreat Nephrite for help. But instead he continued, knowing solemnly that no help would come of opening that particular door.

He walked on, reaching stealthily the door to his bedchamber. Here the light was at its weakest, shadows darkening the wood to black.

His hands trembled and his stomach, mimicking his hands, threatened to jostle its contents upwards. His breathing slowed, and delicately, he placed his fingers on the door knob. It turned easily, soundlessly, not locked at all. Getting a better handle of the blade, Zoisite pushed his way inside, closing the door behind him.

The curtains of the room were drawn, the light within gray and soft. After all that had transpired beforehand, Zoisite hadn't known what to expect. Yet upon a first, hasty glance, he announced to himself that he had not expected this.

Kunzite was nowhere to be seen.

Zoisite took a few cautious steps into the room, checking all the recesses that might serve to hide. The floor creaked beneath his feet and he winced. As he rounded the bed, he glanced up at the ceiling, assuring himself no matter where Kunzite had gone, this room was safe, and very empty.

His boot caught on something - a fold in the rug, he supposed - and he brought his gaze down to the floor.

"Oh!"

The knife was nearly dropped.

Collapsed upon the floor was Kunzite, eyes closed and breathing shallow. Zoisite's boot tip had tripped on the silver king's bare shoulder.

Zoisite fell to his knees, placing the knife on the floor, and tentatively touched Kunzite's cheek, unsure of what to do. He thought fleetingly of Jadeite, abandoned so quickly down stairs. Perhaps now would be the time to seek help. If Nephrite was awake....

Kunzite did not stir. Zoisite, afraid to speak, hovered above with jittery limbs. Even if he succeeded in waking Kunzite, what was the guarantee that the silver king would not be in the same condition as he had been previously?

Instinctively, Zoisite leaned back, fingering the knife for assurance. His knees ached from the prolonged crouch, but as he shifted to relieve the pain, Kunzite's left arm moved, slowly retracting itself. Zoisite froze, terrified to even reach for the knife as Kunzite's arm continued to flex gradually, sweepingly, his hand brushing Zoisite's feet just slightly. The latter held his breath and waited, petrified.

Then suddenly, all was still again.

The light from the sun, through his uncurtained window, blazed white in Nephrite's eyes. He shut them tight, reluctant to awaken so early. Even though he slept well, the nights here seemed exhausting and reproachfully short. He'd heard Jadeite rise but a short while earlier, and then a moment or so ago, more footsteps - most likely Zoisite's - were heard moving about the hall.

But now the sun was heating his covers, and with a groan he slung his feet to the floor. He dressed, noting absently how warm it felt in his room. On the previous mornings here, he'd been made irritable by the waking chill. But today, even the floorboards seemed luxuriously heated. He decided to leave his boots for now; they were scuffed and crumpled and beginning to show holes. Besides, a surface this pleasant was to be appreciated.

However, as he walked to the doorway, the floor grew unaccountably cooler under his feet. He paused, perplexed, and took a couple of experimental steps back towards the bed. Indeed, the floor was warmer near the centre of the room, a hot spot that again disappeared towards the opposite wall.

Perhaps someone had lit the oven downstairs. No... that wouldn't do it. Frowning, Nephrite opened his door, and exited into the hall. Glancing to his right, he noticed the door to Kunzite and Zoisite's room shut and silent. Clearly, neither were up at all.

Shrugging, Nephrite walked in the opposite direction to the stairway. There, nearly floored by the raging sunlight, he descended into the foyer.

He couldn't smell cooking (and he doubted sincerely that Jadeite would be the one to start). Yet if his mind served him correctly, it was the kitchen that lay below his bedroom. If something was heating his floor, it would be coming from there, and without hesitating, Nephrite headed down the corridor towards it.

It was in the hall just outside the room in question that Nephrite stopped suddenly. Before him Jadeite stood, half clothed and hair a mess. At his feet was Luna, and both were staring with frozen absorption into the kitchen.

"Good morning," said Nephrite, "what's going on?"

Only a quick glance was spared in his direction, the party clearly more fascinated with what lay just out of Nephrite's sight. Miffed, Nephrite walked up boldly to join Jadeite, taking due care not to step on the cat. But when he chanced a look into the kitchen, his jaw dropped.

There was a hole in the kitchen ceiling. Not an ordinary hole, opening up a view into what would be Nephrite's bedroom, but another sort of hole. Huge and dark and stiflingly hot. Perhaps it was the heat radiating from it, but the very air about the hole seemed to waver. Though the ceiling around it remained unscathed, the stench of burnt wood was pungent.

"What...?" Nephrite gaped.

"Another one! It's another one!" cried Luna.

"Another what?"

Zoisite stiffened at the sound of shouting downstairs. He'd barely relaxed from the sudden movement of Kunzite's arm; his nerves were worn to the quick. The voices he heard were raised, alarmed.

But, Zoisite thought as he cast his gaze back down to Kunzite's fallen form, there were more pressing matters to attend right here.

Jadeite's legs felt as though they were made of jelly. Had he thought his bedsheets thrown out the window was strange, this spectacle was enough to make him sweat blood. Figuratively. Though with the intense heat sloughing off the hole, his bangs felt suddenly damp against his face. The apparition reminded him of a transport gate, the kind used by officers in the Dark Kingdom. Yet those never emitted so much energy....

"Two tears in such a short time space!" Luna exclaimed to herself. "This must mean that the energy used to keep this house tight is wearing thin!"

"What are you talking about?" Jadeite snarled, irritated by the cat's nonsensical chatter.

"I'm talking about the fabric of this place! If it can't remain constant, it must mean its power is being worn down, concentrated elsewhere!"

"What power?"

"That's not the question!" Luna crowed, entirely lost in her own thoughts. "The question we should be asking is, where is it being concentrated?"

Zoisite gasped as Kunzite started to move, shoulders tensing and head slowly rising. The silver king exhaled roughly, and Zoisite knelt poised, prepared.

As though the effort of rising was too great, Kunzite rolled over, flopping onto his back with another heavy sigh. His chest rose and fell with greater motion, and he breathed in deep, long breaths.

Zoisite leaned over him, peering into his face. The silver king's eye lids were cracked open, his eyes glinting narrow and liquid behind the shroud of long eyelashes. His hair was in disarray, spread out on the floor in a silver halo. He squinted up at Zoisite, his face topsy-turvy, and parted his lips in what appeared to be a gentle smile.

This in turn brought a grin to Zoisite's mouth, and the young king leaned closer to Kunzite's face. The curls of his bangs brushed against Kunzite's nose, and the latter reached up to place a hand on the back of Zoisite's head, bringing him closer still. When their lips met in this upside-down kiss, Zoisite sighed, relief encouraging his muscles to loosen.

The kiss appeared to lend Kunzite strength, for the silver king rose abruptly to sit before Zoisite, their mouths still conjoined. His arms found their way about Zoisite's waist, and soon the two were in a tight embrace, previous tension forgotten.

"Itai...." Zoisite murmured as Kunzite's fingers dug between his ribs. The pressure did not stop, and Zoisite found himself struggling to release himself from it. "Kunzite-sama, please let go-"

Kunzite's eyes met his own, and immediately Zoisite knew something was very wrong. In the flash of light escaping from the curtain, a deep and foreign menace shone from those silver slits. Zoisite breath caught in his throat, and Kunzite bared his teeth.

Before the knife could be grabbed, the silver king had knocked it away. It spun across the floor, its blade shining in circles as it traveled.

Zoisite darted to his feet, backing away. Kunzite rose carefully, as though just getting accustomed to the feel of his body. He never took his eyes off of Zoisite. The young king tried to walk backwards in the direction of the knife, but he had not seen where it had gone, and it was impossible now to take his eyes away from Kunzite.

The older king was advancing slowly, attempting in his walk to steer Zoisite away from the door, back into the room. Zoisite's knees trembled as he watched with horror the look of undeniable malevolence in the eyes of his Kunzite-sama.

Suddenly, trembling with adrenaline, Zoisite turned and ran. The knife was forgotten, and he plunged with as much agility as he could muster towards the bedroom door. He skidded to a halt before it, hand dancing over the knob, distracted by the rush of Kunzite approaching.

Just as he felt Kunzite's presence at his back, the door was open, and Zoisite fell forward into the hall, barely regaining his balance as he threw himself into a run. Kunzite followed close behind, the sound of his feet louder than Zoisite's own panicked breaths.

Zoisite reached the stairwell, grasping the banister for support as he prepared to make a haphazard descent. For a moment, it looked as though he would make it, for he had his feet properly balanced on the first step down.

But then Kunzite had him, dragging him back onto the upper landing. Zoisite struggled and shrieked, hoping Jadeite would hear him. He found himself backed against the wooden railing, leaning over the edge to escape Kunzite who loomed over him.

"Why are you fighting me?" Kunzite said in a voice that was not his own. The gentleness of the statement gave Zoisite a glimmer of hope, and he paused in his struggles. Only to allow Kunzite's hand to close over his neck. Zoisite's frantic eyes widened even more, and he pushed away with all his strength. But Kunzite outweighed him by more than eighty pounds, and the wood of the railing began to groan in protest.

In the moments that followed, Zoisite recalled turning his head away, and seeing Jadeite and Nephrite down in the entry, staring up at him. At that very moment, the banister gave with a mighty crack, and suddenly there was nothing there supporting him, nothing to stop his fall.