There is a place in this world unlike any other. . .Here, the halls stretch to oblivion, floors creak under the weight of the unknown. Monsters and fiends echo around corners, startling birds and rodents of all kinds. Petals and leaves hug and hold the walls, keeping them steady as the foundation crumbles. The once dead house seems to be alive once more. And Luna wants nothing but to leave it all behind.
But she can't, she's stuck here with him. The tyrant is holding Dalton hostage. He is under a spell of eternal sleep, one that the tyrant will only wake him from, once he gets what he wants. Luna will never.
But with all the wasted time, with the arguments, with all the attempts Luna has made to break free. She hasn't had any luck.
And to make matters worse, now Dalton is sick, infected. Inky black roots have been crawling inside his arm, mimicking his veins with thick, bold lines. Others have traveled up to his elbow. Soon they will reach his shoulder, then his chest, stomach, and groin. If he doesn't get cured by then, he'll forget his name . . . he'll forget Luna. He'll be just one more thing creeping and creaking down these forgotten halls. But there is one hope-one person, one man: Beiste Chapman, the tyrant. He can save him. He has to.