The first thing Elias felt was cold stone against his cheek. The second was… warmth. Something soft. And breathing. And—gods above—drooling.
He groaned and shifted, the grogginess weighing on his limbs like wet wool. Pain flared in his ribs as he rolled to his side, eyes blinking open slowly. The soft thing slumped across his chest stirred with him—a small, half-naked figure sprawled over him like a particularly possessive cat.
A girl.
Her skin was pale as ash, damp with some kind of viscous residue that clung like sap. Strands of long black hair lay plastered across his tunic, soaked and shiny with what Elias hoped wasn't embryonic slime. Her tiny limbs were curled tightly around him, arms clenched at his sides with surprising strength. She breathed slowly—peacefully—each exhale brushing warm against his collarbone.
And there, just above her brow, two tiny black horns protruded from her head, curling like polished obsidian thorns.
Elias stared.
For a long, suspended moment, he said nothing. Did nothing. Just stared.
Then he whispered, with great reverence and immense confusion, "What… the hell."
Reality came flooding back in sharp, painful bursts.
The ruined sanctuary. The cocoon. The explosion of light. That last searing pulse of magic.
His breath caught.
With a sudden gasp, Elias flung up his left arm. His sleeve fell back, and there it was—a mark seared into the flesh of his palm. Twisting lines formed an unmistakable rune: jagged and dark, etched into his skin like molten iron had branded him. A crown of horns encircled by fire.
It pulsed faintly.
Elias recoiled from his own hand. "No, no, no. This can't be happening. Not this. Not that symbol."
He laughed, a little too high-pitched, a little too close to panic. "This is a dream. Has to be. Or a hallucination. Maybe a prank. Yes. That's it. The Diviner's Guild has finally cracked and turned to psychological warfare."
The girl shifted against him.
He stiffened.
Slowly—too slowly—her head lifted from his shoulder. Her crimson eyes opened. Not red like a human's irritated bloodshot stare, but glowing, molten red—like lava coiled behind glass. They locked onto him with eerie clarity.
Then she smiled.
Elias swallowed hard. "Um. Hi?"
Her grin widened.
Before he could react, she lunged.
"OW!"
Teeth. Sharp ones. Right in his neck.
Elias scrambled backward with a shout, half-crawling, half-thrashing, the girl's wiry little body still attached like a particularly bitey scarf. He slammed into a fallen column. She came with him, arms locked tight around his chest, lips still latched to his shoulder.
"Stop! I'm not food! What are you doing?!"
She let go with a soft pop, her lips slick and shining. Her expression didn't change.
"Mine," she said.
Elias blinked. "What?"
"Mine," she repeated, more firmly this time. Her voice was hoarse and ancient, like it hadn't passed human air in centuries.
One tiny hand pressed against his chest. Claiming.
"Lady, I don't even know your name!" he snapped.
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. Then she leaned in and sniffed him. Actually sniffed him.
"Smells… warm. Safe."
"I bathed last week," he muttered under his breath, still trying to process any of this.
That was when the mark on his palm flared. Heat radiated up his arm as the rune blazed to life, glowing bright red. Magic surged through the air like a thunderclap without sound. All around the chamber, ancient runes carved into the stone walls lit in eerie response—then dimmed again, leaving behind only silence and a faint ringing in his bones.
Elias gritted his teeth.
He felt it then—a pull. Not physical, not magical. Deeper. Like something in his soul had been hooked and bound. Like a tether had anchored itself in his very being and yanked tight.
The girl sagged suddenly, her eyes fluttering shut. She exhaled a long, contented sigh as she pressed against him, curling her arms around his neck like she was settling down for a nap.
"Bonded," she murmured.
Then, just like that, she was asleep again.
Elias stared at her. Then at the rune on his hand. Then back at her.
"…I'm going to die," he whispered.
A Little While Later
Elias wasn't sure how he'd made it outside.
His mind had gone hazy after the whole bitey soul-bonding demon child emergence thing. Now, he found himself sitting on the cracked marble steps of the ruin, the late evening air brushing against his sweat-damp skin. The world felt quieter than it had in days. Real, again.
The girl—whatever she was—lay curled in his lap, wrapped in his cloak like a particularly smug burrito. Her small hands clutched at the fabric, her cheek squashed against his ribs. Every so often, she muttered something soft in her sleep.
"Warm…"
"Mine…"
It was hard to say whether she was cute or horrifying. Possibly both.
Elias lifted his hand. The rune had dimmed to a dull glow, but he could still feel it pulsing—gentle, steady, like a heartbeat that wasn't his. An echo of her presence. A link.
He'd read about blood bonds before. Old magic. Powerful. Taboo. The kind of soul-binding that had gotten entire cities obliterated in the last Great War. Not the sort of thing you stumbled into by poking a suspicious cocoon in a crumbling ruin.
Except that's exactly what he'd done.
He looked down at her again. Her face was soft and childlike, with a slight flush to her cheeks. Her black lashes fluttered faintly, her mouth curved in a sleepy smile. She looked like any normal toddler—aside from the horns, the tail coiled loosely around his arm, and the radiant infernal mana rolling off her like heat from a furnace.
He exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his hair.
"Okay. Think, Elias."
He ticked the points off with tired fingers.
"One: still alive. That's… something. Two: she hasn't killed me. Yet. Three: there is now a possibly immortal demon child soul-bonded to me who speaks in possessive pronouns and bites when she's happy."
A pause.
"…This is bad."
A bird chirped above him. He flinched.
But it wasn't a demon this time. Just a bird. Real. Perched high in one of the skeletal trees near the ruin's edge. Life, slowly returning.
Which meant whatever magic had been sealing this place—it was gone.
The stasis had ended.
And that meant he needed to leave. Now.
He gathered his satchel. Checked her over again—no wounds, still breathing, still burning with terrifying levels of mana. She stirred as he hoisted her into his arms, pressing her face against his collarbone.
"Mmm… soft…"
"That's the cloak, not me," Elias muttered.
Her tail slipped around his wrist again like a snake curling for warmth.
"…You have a tail," he said, almost accusingly.
"Mmhm," she mumbled. "Yours."
Elias gave the ruins one last look.
Then, sighing in a way that somehow included all the despair of an unpaid intern and a cursed babysitter, he began the long trek home.
Back at the Guild
Sneaking a bonded demon child into the Guild of Restoration was, in hindsight, probably the dumbest idea Elias had ever had. And that included the time he tried to dispel a cursed love potion with a bucket of cold water and a very misinformed parrot.
But desperate times.
He wrapped the girl in two layers of his cloak and a blanket that smelled vaguely of wet hay, slung his satchel over one shoulder, and approached the side gate just after twilight. The entrance was meant for delivery carts and janitorial staff—not exactly high security, but still guarded.
A lone figure slouched on a stool near the gatehouse, half-asleep, nursing a mug of something that might have been coffee or swamp water. The man had the vague look of someone who had once aspired to be a knight and had since settled into becoming a chair.
Elias cleared his throat.
The guard jerked upright and blinked blearily. "Whazzit? Who goes—oh. It's you."
"Evening, Brant," Elias said, trying to keep his voice casual. "Just… late night field errand. Emergency mana fluctuation, long story. You know how it is."
Brant squinted at the bundle in Elias's arms. "That a corpse?"
"Sick niece," Elias said instantly.
"...Looks dead."
"Very deep sleeper," Elias amended, smiling a little too hard.
The bundle stirred and mumbled, "Mine…"
Brant stared. "Did it just talk?"
Elias coughed. "Mana fever. Delirium. Kids say weird things."
"And tail?" Brant pointed at the little black tip curling lazily from beneath the blanket.
Elias made a noise halfway between a laugh and a death rattle. "Birth defect. Tragic. Not contagious."
Brant narrowed his eyes. For a terrifying moment, Elias thought he might actually do his job. Then the man took a long sip from his mug, grimaced, and muttered, "Not my pay grade. Just don't bleed on the stairs again. I had to mop it last time."
"No blood," Elias promised quickly. "All fluids contained."
"Good lad."
The gate creaked open.
Elias didn't wait for a second chance. He nodded, muttered something vaguely polite, and slipped inside before Brant could change his mind or sobriety level.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, he exhaled slowly. The girl in his arms shifted, pressing closer. "Warm…"
"Yeah," he whispered, staring down at her. "That's the problem."
He reached his assigned quarters—a glorified storage closet with a cot—and closed the door behind him.
Revantra (he didn't know her name yet, but that's who she was) was still sleeping peacefully.
He set her on the cot. She immediately rolled over and latched onto his pillow.
Elias stared at her for a moment, then slumped against the wall.
"What am I supposed to do with you?"
She didn't answer. But the bond pulsed softly again—like a heartbeat in sync with his own.
And despite everything—the danger, the insanity, the sheer impossibility—he didn't feel fear.
He felt… wanted.
And that terrified him more than anything else.
To be continued…