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An emptiness drifted in his mind as Somnus stood dazed, until a voice called for his attention. Glazed eyes snapped into focus and he turned his head to find its source: another beast. Instinct bristled his fur—he would, in his normal mindset, not want to appear defensive toward a stranger but he had yet to learn to fine-tune the control of his own beast.

Almost as if the two hellish creatures communicated on a different level than he knew, his felt his body relax: her stature was not aggressive, and he felt the fire that was igniting in his blood immediately begin to cool. He felt his fur smooth and his shoulders dropped slightly. This was okay. But aside from how his body reacted to her, his mind was set tumbling with questions. Was she a natural beast, or one like him, sent here to live as a beast as some kind of punishment?

Are ye well, friend?

The question sat in his mind like a weight. No, he wanted to answer. Of course I'm not. Was she? Was she quite well? How could he be? But he bit back these retorts and collected himself, trying to judge how best to word his answer. Friend. He let the word sit by itself for a moment and after several breaths, he shook his head.

No, he said finally in a genuine, honest answer. For the first time, his eyes regarded her wholly: she had bits of flowers throughout her fur and it was colored differently than his seemed to be. So they were not all the same manner of beast. Through his beast's nose he smelled soft scents like lavender and honey, where his own body reminded him of a burned-out fireplace. What does it mean for each of hell's beasts to be unique? he wondered. Why should it matter?

Is this Hell? he asked, studying her expression for changes. I am no beast... but here I stand, with a beast's claws and a beast's fangs. Why? Even if she could not answer, he repeated, Why?

Why was he taken from his life, from Stellia? Surely there was an answer. He was desperate for the meaning, because without Lia, what meaning was there?