Elias awoke to a strange, ticklish sensation brushing across his nose.
Warm breath. Too close.
He cracked open an eye—only to find a pair of crimson irises staring back at him from less than an inch away.
"AAHH—!"
His limbs flailed instinctively. The cot creaked, tilted, and dumped him onto the cold stone floor with a resounding thud. Pain blossomed in the back of his skull. White spots danced across his vision like mischievous fairies.
From above, wrapped head-to-toe in his spare blanket like some smug demon burrito, the horned child blinked down at him.
"You make weird noises," she said, as though noting weather patterns.
"You were hovering over my face!" he groaned, rubbing his head. "Like a tiny, cursed wraith!"
Her head tilted at an unnerving angle. "Wanted to see if you stopped breathing."
"That's not—" He paused. "That's not reassuring."
"You didn't."
"Still not comforting!"
She scooted closer to the edge of the cot, small fingers gripping the mattress for balance. "I was… scared. You were far."
Elias froze mid-rub. He stared up at her. "Far? I was asleep. On the other side of the same ten-by-ten room."
Her eyes flicked downward. She didn't cry. Didn't throw a tantrum. She just curled in on herself slightly, as if shrinking away from something only she could see.
"Didn't like it," she whispered.
He let his hand fall from his scalp with a sigh. "Right. Separation anxiety. Of course the ancient demon queen has separation anxiety now."
The air between them settled into a soft silence, filled only by the faint crackle of the oil lamp on the desk and the distant creaks of the old guild house settling into morning. She didn't speak. Just sat there, watching him, like he was the only fixed point in a chaotic world.
And maybe, to her, he was.
He got back to his feet with a groan and reached for the waterskin near the bedside. As he did, his gaze caught on something else—something glowing faintly beneath the skin of his hand.
The mark.
Still there. Still pulsing with that eerie, low light.
He turned his palm upward, inspecting it more closely under the lamplight. What he'd initially dismissed as a simple rune now revealed layers upon layers of arcane complexity. The shape curled inward like a spiral crown, surrounded by a ring of sigils.
Familiar ones.
Ancient script. Elden-class. Demon-blooded lineage. Soulbinding runes. He recognized them from his studies—and from the countless banned books he'd skimmed during his brief, disastrous stint at the Academy.
Forbidden tier magic.
His stomach did a slow, queasy roll.
"Alright," he said aloud, more to ground himself than anything. "Let's figure out what you did to me, you little gremlin."
From the cot, she mumbled through the blanket. "I'm not a gremlin."
"You bite, cling, and hiss. That's three out of three on the gremlin checklist."
She gave him a look that tried to be offended, but the yawn halfway through it made her less fearsome and more… adorable.
Later That Morning…
Books were spread across the floor like a summoning circle of paper and dust. Elias sat cross-legged at the center, squinting at overlapping notes in two different languages. The bigger tome of ancient runic structure sat open to a page so old it cracked when touched. Nearby, the half-charred manual of demonology—a souvenir from his youthful misdeeds—smelled faintly of sulfur and mildew.
The girl sat beside him, chewing contentedly on a cushion's frayed corner.
Elias pointed at the mark on his hand. "This? This is a Binding Crest. You cast it last night."
She tilted her head. "I did?"
"You bit me."
"I was hungry."
"That was my shoulder, not a sandwich!"
She shrugged, entirely unrepentant. "Tasted nice."
Elias exhaled slowly through his nose, praying for patience.
"Look. A blood pact like this links souls. You and me? We're connected now. Emotionally. Magically. Existentially."
"Exist-y… what?"
"If you get hurt, I'll feel it. If I get too far away, you'll panic. And if one of us dies—" He stopped short.
She stared at him blankly, tail twitching.
"—We're not testing that."
The girl scooted closer, tucking her legs beneath her and resting her chin on his arm.
"You're warm," she murmured again, as if that explained everything.
"That's not relevant to the contract."
Her gaze didn't waver. "You're mine now."
"No." He deadpanned. "I'm your temporary guardian. Possibly your babysitter. Potentially your therapist."
"You're mine," she repeated, more softly this time. Not as a demand. More like a fact of the world.
Before he could answer, something in the demonology book caught his eye.
A rough illustration, rendered in charcoal, filled the bottom third of the page. It looked eerily familiar: a crown of horns surrounded by concentric circles of sigils, matching the exact pattern on his hand. The accompanying description was short. Chilling.
Mark of the Seventh Crown: Seal of Dominion. Used in the Ascension of the Demon Queen Revantra, forged through blood and soul during her final cycle of rebirth…
His eyes widened. He read it again.
And again.
"No way."
He slowly turned his head toward the girl beside him.
She was currently trying to fit her entire foot into her mouth.
"Absolutely not," he muttered. "You can't be her. You're a child. You eat furniture."
She looked up and blinked. "I'm Revantra."
He felt a deep, cold pressure settle in his chest. The book hadn't used the word "reincarnation." It had said fragment. Which meant…
She wasn't reborn fully. Just partially. A splinter of the Demon Queen.
And somehow, that splinter had chosen him.
Elias leaned back until his head thunked softly against the stone wall. He covered his face with both hands and groaned.
"I'm going to be executed."
Knock knock knock.
"Elias?" came a voice through the door. Familiar. Flat. Too early. "Guild inspection. You in there?"
His heart stopped.
"Crap!"
He bolted upright. "Crap, crap, crap—hide!"
Revantra blinked. "Where?"
"Anywhere that isn't visible!"
She looked around the room with all the urgency of a sleepy cat. Then, without a word, walked over to the open dresser, climbed inside, and shut it behind her with a soft click.
Elias smoothed his hair, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Guild Officer Maren stood in the hallway, clipboard in hand, expression as suspicious as ever. Her gaze swept past him into the room.
"Smells like brimstone," she noted flatly.
"Uh, potion spill. Burned the floor."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're banned from brewing. And enchanting. And fire."
"I know. That's why I didn't do it?"
She stared.
He smiled weakly.
She scribbled something on her clipboard. "Arcane sweep tomorrow. If I find anything illegal, you'll be cleaning privies for a month."
"Wouldn't dream of breaking protocol."
Maren didn't respond. She just gave him one last slow, suspicious squint, then turned and walked off.
Elias closed the door, exhaled loudly, and opened the dresser.
Revantra sat inside, legs tucked up, looking bored.
"Your Guild lady smells like soap."
"You were supposed to hide, not critique hygiene standards!"
"You told me not to be visible."
He wanted to scream. Instead, he dragged a hand down his face and mumbled something about retirement plans and early graves.
That Night…
Elias tried, truly tried, to get some sleep. He lay on the cot, arms crossed, while Revantra curled up on a small pile of towels he'd arranged on the floor.
It lasted all of ten minutes.
She climbed back up in silence, blanket dragging behind her like a cape, and nestled beside him. He considered protesting. Then didn't.
"…You're warm," she whispered again, voice muffled by the blanket.
"You said that already," he murmured.
"It's still true."
He stared at the ceiling, the moonlight casting soft silver lines across the cracked beams above. After a long pause, he glanced down at her.
Her face was relaxed now. Small. Serene. But there was something tight around her eyes—something that never fully went away.
How alone had she been before this? How long had she waited in that broken place, with only pieces of memory and power left to cling to?
"…Alright, kid," he whispered. "I'll keep you safe. For now. Until we figure this out."
Her tail curled around his waist like a ribbon.
"Forever?" she asked drowsily.
"No. Not forever."
But her eyes were already closed.
"Forever," she repeated, softer this time.
And Elias didn't have the heart to argue.
To be continued…