It was her sly smile and slitted eyes that told me from the moment I walked in that I was dancing with the devil. I have traveled all around the world asking a series of people; from the mute monk in Manzhouli to the sixth sensed pauper in Abbeyglen. All those questions have all led me to Argentina; to this woman. The “Silver Demon” is what the village people of the mountain had called her. They had cringed when I gave them the description the pauper had given me and then reluctantly pointed me towards a small trail that led up a tall mountain. Me and Christophe had made our way up the trail with no assistance of a carriage. It had been a hot and laborious walk up the windy trail. We finally came on a small women shack. Smoke floated out of a makeshift chimney despite how hot the day was. The door had been set wide open and when I looked inside the shack a woman had been standing in the middle of it smiling widely at us as if she had been expecting us.

Now that I see this woman, I understand why they had cringed and why she was called the, “Silver Demon.” Her eyes were a sparkling silver with cat-like pupils. Dark skin and raven-black hair that cascaded past her hips accentuated her luminescent eyes. Her wide grin revealed almost sharp, yellow teeth. All in all, she was a terrifying woman, but I stubbornly held my ground.

I gripped my parasol tight in my once white gloved hands as sweat from the sweltering heat of Argentina’s summer rolled down my back and I made introductions. “I am Sophia de Rosnay,” I said in english hoping the woman would understand, “And this is my brother Christophe.” Her grin seemed to widen at the mention of our names. “I am told you can help me with a situation.”

“What sort of situation?” She fortunately replied in english, but even her voice sent chills down my back. It reminded me of nails on a chalkboard. I looked at Christophe and he reach into his satchel and pulled out a small white teacup that fit in the palm of his hand. The only design on it was a thin gold line painted on the lip of the teacup. I nodded and Christophe handed it to the woman.

“It is our sister,” I explained calmly as the woman examined the teacup. “She is trapped within that teacup.”