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[center][b][color=DC143C]Location:[/color][/b] Almack’s
[color=DC143C]“But it’s always darkest before the dawn.”[/color] 
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	Fyror’s heart clenched in his chest as a sorrowful look came to Elizaveta’s features, and he steeled himself for what he was about to hear. His brows furrowed as she spoke about the vision she saw. A woman with chestnut hair and dark eyes surrounded by much turmoil, darkness, and pain. He got the sense that this foreseen woman was to be in grave danger, maybe even become the next victim of the Soulless. 

	His brows shot up the slightest in surprise at Elizaveta’s perceptiveness regarding his current emotional state. Granted, he was not very good at hiding his emotions, but the fact that she correctly detected that his heart had been broken was shocking nonetheless. He did not even try to deny it. He had truly begun to feel some kind of special connection forming between him and Millicent. A fondness he had never felt for a woman before. And for her to be so easily ripped from him and put into harms way by a man as dishonorable as Lord Rutherford truly broke his heart. He hated not being able to protect someone he cared for, and he took it personally out on himself.

	A small strained smile pulled at the corners of his lips at hearing Elizaveta’s acceptance of his aid. His gaze pulled away from hers to look around the room. All seemed calm at the moment, but he knew it would not last long. A couple caught his eye as they made their way over to the group gathered around the Grand Duchess. His heart sank to see that it was Lord Rutherford approaching with Millicent on his arm. Fyror quickly looked away as emotion flashed in his eyes. His jaw clenched as he strained to get his wits about him. After a few moments, he reluctantly looked at them. While Lord Rutherford introduced himself to Elizaveta, Fyror’s gaze bored into Millicent. A question flashed in his eyes: [i]Why? Why did you have to go back to him?[/i]

	Lord Rutherford’s next words were like a slap in the face, causing Fyror to flinch. Millicent was now Lord Rutherford’s fiancé! He was about to turn away, but Elizaveta’s words kept him in place. [i]No, it couldn’t be? It can’t be?! Millicent was the woman in Elizaveta’s vision![/i] It all began to make sense now. The fact that Elizaveta had seen the vision while looking into his eyes held an aspect of symbolism to it. The vision was of someone seen by the eyes in which the vision had displayed itself. His heart began to race at the thought, and his need to protect surged within him. But as of yet what or who was he supposed to protect her from? His gaze easily gravitated to Lord Rutherford. [i]Perhaps the darkness was right before their eyes.[/i]
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[center][b][color=556B2F]Location:[/color][/b] Almack’s
[color=556B2F]“Exposing your dark side doesn’t frighten me, hiding it does.”[/color] 
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	Thalken truly hated the social gatherings of the ton, let alone the Season as a whole. The way women batted their eyelashes flirtatiously and swooned over men’s attentions. The way mothers threw their unmarried daughters in the direction of the nearest titled man. And the way it only inflated the egos of men. It was a dance of wits, ultimately with the desire of climbing up the social hierarchy, and yet everyone hid their true intentions behind the guise of civility. It all seemed so sickening and meaningless to Thalken, for outside those walls the world wasn’t so grand. He knew of the true darkness of this world, and he forever lived in its shadow. 

	Thalken stepped out of the carriage, which was parked just outside Almack’s, and looked around at his surroundings with clear distaste. He hated that his father had to drag him to this blasted establishment for this blasted event. Knowing the man, he was probably hoping to line up some more work tonight. Maybe catch some people in the middle of a family feud and convince one to take a bounty on the other’s head. God knows his father was up to no good, as usual. He let out a small sigh and glanced over at his twin sister Thalcona as she came up alongside him. She shared a knowing look with him but did not try to engage in conversation with him. She knew well enough to leave him alone because he was in no mood to speak. He sent a pointed glare in his father’s direction, making his displeasure of being dragged here clear. He would suck it up and do whatever needed to be done, but he made no promises about doing it happily or civilly.

	Thalken headed into Almack’s proper. His attractive facial features were hardened by the ever-present scowl on his face. Couple this with his attire, which was nearly black from head to toe, it gave him a dark air. No one in their right mind would dare cross him, or so he hoped. His long black overcoat billowed behind him as he walked with powerful strides. People seemed to scurry out of his path, and that was probably a good thing because he had no qualms about shoving people who got in his way. Propriety was practically nonexistent with him. I mean, after all, social decorum was not exactly a subject of discussion among bounty hunters. As long as you treated your superiors with a certain amount of respect and undivided loyalty, it mattered not how you treated the rest of society.

	[i]‘Great, just great. This place makes hell seem more appealing,’[/i] Thalken thought to himself. He stopped just inside the ballroom, and his dark eyed gaze surveyed the room. He took a mental note of the layout of the room, including potential vantage points as well as where the exits were. One in his particular line of work always took into account the exit routes, in case a quick getaway became necessary. He also took note of the presence of many soldiers, their red coats easily differentiating them from the others in the crowd. His father would have to be more cautious not to raise any alarms or suspicion. Thalken looked over his shoulder at his father and sister and mouthed the word “soldiers” at them, subtly nodding his head in the direction of the nearest one (Fyror). His father and sister nodded their heads in simple acknowledgment. Their father then broke away from them and melded into the shadows at the edges of the room. 

	Thalken and Thalcona casually walked past the group assembling around the Grand Duchess Elizaveta. As he passed them, a woman with pale, almost Ryne like skin (Virginia) caught his harsh gaze. He quickly looked the woman up and down with a critical, perceptive eye as he passed by her. In his quick assessment, he did not deduce any immediate threat despite her abnormally pale skin, so he just continued on past her like nothing had happened. All the while, his cold expression remained strangely unchanged.