4 | Of a Furious Nature

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The suburb of Evergreen Acres was quiet in the hushed predawn hours. Sprinklers chattered over parched summer lawns and small birds sang from the comfort of their gathered nests. Porch lights waited in open invitation, attracting swarms of dappled moths and gray gnats. A lone dog barked from the confines of his yard, and his cry echoed throughout the entirety of sleepy Spruce Street.  

The Sin of Envy sloughed off the influence of the Realm, appearing from one moment to the next on the sidewalk outside of a particular home in Evergreen Acres' idyllic neighborhood.

In his shadow crouched the Sin of Wrath. The mad Sin clutched a pair of fresh, folded slacks and a stolen button-down to his chest. 

Balthier sniffed as he retrieved a blackened crisp of paper from his suit pocket. The lettering upon the disintegrating scrap was blurred, but the Sin could decipher the messy scrawl of a woman's handwritten address. 

He flicked what was left of Sara Gaspard's burnt employee registration card into the wind.

"Come," Balthier said, striding forward into the overgrown yard. Sethan followed, his bare footsteps creating a shuffling noise upon the walkway's bricks. The front door gave under Balthier's soft but persistent shoving. The crack of the lock breaking hit the Sin's ear like a gunshot.

The interior of the house was in dispassionate disarray. Light from the street illuminated the side of a lumpy sofa and a crooked coffee table. Books of various sizes and ages cluttered the expanse, some spilling to the floor below. The scent of burnt coffee clung to the air, as though someone had forgotten to turn off the coffee pot.

As expected, the woman's house was already empty.

Balthier sighed as he flared the light. The brighter effulgence did little to improve the droll setting. Sethan crept inside behind Envy, wincing through the curtain of his filthy as the light struck his tender eyes. The emaciated Sin drew in breath after breath, each inhalation rattling in the cavern of his chest.

He was tasting the essence. With each sample, the Sin was learning—discovering what had changed in the world since Balthier had shut him away in the Realm a century ago. Souls created and expended energy, and the byproduct of that process essence. Energy dissipated, but essence lingered, and within it held traces of emotion, memory, and knowledge. The thicker the crowd, the thicker the essence, the faster a Sin could assimilate.

Balthier stood at the mouth of the hall as he surveyed the vacated domicile. "Go bathe," he snarled at Sethan, jabbing a finger toward the dark bathroom. "You disgust me."

Wrath did as he was bid. He had no choice. Even if he had been of a sound mind and capable of disobedience, the demon was overwhelmed by the sheer deluge of information and sensation flooding his senses.

Terrestria had changed greatly while he had languished in the Realm.

Balthier listened to Sethan walk into the other room and shut the door. It took a minute, but eventually the pipes gurgled as the Sin managed to operate the faucet. Balthier adjusted his gaze, his hand swiping across the dusty breakfast bar. He looked over the living room, then at the wall nearest to him. A picture hung there, and Balthier reached out to straighten the frame.

The image of two girls was preserved behind the frame's glass. Judging by the slight loss of pigment, the photo was nearly a decade old. Both of the girls were identical in appearance. They were two thin youths with black hair and vivid, cyan eyes, dressed in matching sweaters. Snow fell around them. It stuck to their eyelashes and the thick fabric of their knitted clothes.

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