Seraphina Decay stood where she always stood, at the doors, waiting for a soul she could finally lead to the right one. She was a small cherub with black wings and huge yellow eyes. Paint dripped down her feathers. Sometimes it felt wet, and she picked at it when she worried. Today she worried. A boy had wandered in from the river fog, and she knew the wrong door could mark him in ways no one saw. But the doors were gone. Where they should have stood, she found only a dark river winding through the dark. Its glossy surface caught faint glimmers, like buried stars. She had watched people cross through her doors for years. She had never lost the doors themselves. Her chest tightened. She scratched a curl of paint from her wing and let it fall. A soft chirr came from the roses. In a dense bush of black-red blooms, a black cat crouched among the thorns. Its eyes glowed pale, larger than any cat's should be. It watched her the way she watched visitors, patient and knowing. "You're the one who forgets to breathe," the cat said. Its voice was low and amused. "The doors moved. They do that when someone new arrives." Seraphina stepped closer. Thorns snagged her feet. "Then take me to them. There's a soul waiting. I can't help him with nothing to open." The cat rose and slid free of the brambles. It padded to the river's edge, tail curling like a question. "Doors don't come to you here. You go to them." Dark shapes drifted down onto the water. Butterflies with ornate black wings settled along a rope of roses, and the rope pulled a boat from the fog. A black swan boat, carved and quiet, its neck draped in tiny red roses. The cat leapt onto the bow and looked back at her. "Get in," it said. "I'll guide you. I've done it more times than you'd like." Seraphina hesitated. Leaving her post felt like breaking a rule she had kept forever. But the boy needed doors, and the doors had left. She climbed in. The boat rocked, then steadied. The swan carried them down the glossy river. Candles floated past, and a gothic dock came into view, its roses and lanterns glowing. Beyond the dock, tangled in thorny vines, stood a wall of doors. Each one was a different wood, wrapped in red brambles, arranged like a map. Six doors. Six collections. The cat hopped onto the dock. "There they are. Your first set." It flicked its tail toward the tangle. "Some of them change, some no one picks but this is your map" Seraphina looked at the six doors and knew her waiting was over. She had souls to guide and treasures to keep, and now, finally, doors to open.