《My childhood friend doesn't know i was the demon king.》


 Chapter 1: Demon kings Regression

    The sun was beating down like it had a score to settle, too bright, too hot, making my head throb before I even figured out where I was. I squinted up at it, one hand flapping uselessly in front of my face, and that''s when I saw it¡ªmy hand. Small. Knobby little fingers, not the scarred, calloused paws I''d gotten used to incinerating cities with. What the hell?


    I scrambled up, nearly tripped over my own feet¡ªskinny legs, bony knees poking through these scratchy trousers that looked like something my ma stitched together before I torched her village. Sorry, Ma. My heart was doing this dumb galloping thing, and I pressed a palm to my chest like I could slow it down. Felt my ribs, frail little birdcage of a body. Twelve years old, maybe? Last thing I remembered was dying¡ªAmelia''s sword in my chest, her crying like it hurt her more than me, which, fair, I was the asshole who made her do it. Now I''m¡­ here?


    I was under this big, sprawling tree¡ªkinda gnarled, kinda beautiful, the kind kids climb ''til someone falls and breaks an arm. Laughter hit my ears, sharp and loud, and I turned my head. Bunch of brats running around near the center of the village, kicking up dust, shouting nonsense. Eldoria. My hometown. Before I turned it to ash and bone. Except it''s not ash now¡ªit''s alive, buzzing, people hauling baskets of bread and yelling about whose cow got loose again. Like none of it ever happened.


    "Shit," I muttered, and my voice cracked like a twig underfoot. Puberty''s a bitch I haven''t hit yet, apparently. Was this some kinda cosmic joke? Me, Aron, the Demon King¡ªpinnacle of magic, scourge of the world¡ªstuffed back into my kid self? I patted my face, expecting scars, stubble, something. Nope. Smooth as a damn peach.


    I needed to move, figure this out, but my legs were jelly, and my head was spinning worse than that time I drank ogre mead on a dare. Time travel? Second chance? Punishment? I''d messed with some dark spells back in the day, but nothing that''d pull this off. Maybe the gods were bored. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe I was dead, and this was hell¡ªa quiet little hell where I''d have to watch it all go wrong again.


    The kids were still hollering, and I squinted at ''em, trying to place faces. Redheaded Timmy, always picking his nose. Sara, bossy as a mule. And then¡ªfuck me¡ªthere she was. Amelia. Sitting off by herself under that big oak, knees hugged to her chest, golden hair in these lopsided pigtails. She looked¡­ small. Not the Hero with steel in her spine and blood on her hands. Just a girl, watching the others like she wanted in but didn''t know the password.


    My throat went dry. I took a step toward her, then froze like an idiot. What was I gonna do, huh? Wave and say, "Hey, ''Melia, ''member me? The guy you gutted?" Yeah, that''d be smooth. But I couldn''t peel my eyes off her. She was picking at the grass, head down, and something in my chest twisted¡ªguilt, maybe, or something softer I didn''t wanna name. I''d made her cry once. A lot, actually. Now she was just¡­ here.


    Before I could sort my head out, this beefy kid¡ªBram, I think, always a little shit¡ªspotted her. "Oi, weirdo''s back!" he yelled, elbowing his buddies. They all turned, snickering, and Amelia shrank into herself, cheeks going pink.


    "Leave her alone," I said, and it just slipped out, loud and dumb. Bram spun on me, eyebrows up like I''d sprouted horns¡ªwhich, ha, not yet, kid.


    "What''d you say, Aron?" He puffed up, chest out, like he was hot shit instead of a snot-nosed punk.


    I straightened, which didn''t do much ''cause I was a twig next to him. "I said leave her be. She''s not hurting you."


    He laughed, this barking sound that made my fists itch. "What, you sweet on her? Gonna be her knight or somethin''?"


    The other kids giggled, and I felt my face heat up¡ªstupid kid body, betraying me. "Just¡­ piss off and play somewhere else, alright?"


    Bram stepped closer, cracking his knuckles like he''d seen some tough guy do it. "Or what? You gonna cry to your ma?"


    I swallowed. Back in the day, I''d have snapped my fingers and turned him into a pile of cinders. Now? I''d be lucky if he didn''t knock my teeth out. But then Amelia¡ªlittle, shy Amelia¡ªshot to her feet, fists clenched at her sides.


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    "Stop it!" she shouted, voice wobbly but sharp enough to cut through the noise. Bram blinked at her, dumbfounded. "Leave Aron alone. He''s just¡ªhe''s just being nice!"


    Bram stared, then snorted. "Fine. You''re both freaks anyway." He lumbered off, his posse trailing, muttering crap under their breath.


    I let out a breath, shoulders sagging. Amelia turned to me, and her eyes¡ªgods, those eyes, soft and green and not yet hardened by me¡ªcaught mine. "Thanks," she mumbled, kicking at the dirt. "You didn''t hafta."


    I shrugged, playing it off like my heart wasn''t pounding. "No big deal. Bullies are assholes."


    She smiled, this tiny, wobbly thing that hit me like a punch. "I''m Amelia."


    "Yeah," I said, then caught myself. "I mean, uh, I''m Aron." I stuck out my hand, and she took it¡ªwarm, steady, like she wasn''t shaking inside like me.


    The grass was damp under my knees, sticking to my trousers as I crouched there, pretending to hunt for whatever dumb treasure Amelia swore was buried near the creek. She was giggling, her voice bouncing off the trees like little bells, digging with a stick and getting mud all over her hands. "It''s gotta be here, Aron! I saw it sparkle yesterday!" she said, all bright-eyed and sure, like the world was still good and sparkly things mattered.


    I nodded, poking at the dirt with my fingers, but my head wasn''t in it. It was a million miles away¡ªor years, I guess. Playing with her like this, it was easy for a sec¡ªlike I could just be twelve again, like the Demon King was some nightmare I''d wake up from. But then it hit me, this flood of before, and I couldn''t shake it.


    I used to be cold. Not just to her¡ªto everything. I''d shut it all out, built this wall of ice and fire around me, ''cause that''s what power does, right? You climb so high you forget what the ground feels like. Amelia, though¡ªshe never stopped trying. She''d show up, time after time, blade gleaming, eyes wet, begging me to come back. "Aron, please," she''d say, her voice cracking like it hurt to even speak my name. "You don''t have to do this. Come home."


    Her sword''d be at my throat¡ªfuck, she was fast, stronger than anyone I''d ever faced¡ªand I''d laugh. Laugh! Like it was a game, like her tears were nothing. "You can''t stop me, ''Melia," I''d spit, all ego and venom, "I''m the king now. This is who I am." And she''d hesitate, every damn time, giving me that chance to turn it around. She could''ve ended me ten times over¡ªtwenty, maybe¡ªbut she didn''t. Not ''til she had to.


    That last time, though¡­ gods, her face. Tears streaking through the blood and dirt, her hands shaking as she drove that blade deeper into my chest. "I''m sorry," she''d whispered, like she was the one who''d fucked up. I''d choked on my own blood, staring up at her, and even then, I didn''t say it¡ªI didn''t say I was wrong, didn''t say I should''ve listened. Pride''s a hell of a drug, and I was drowning in it ''til the end.


    Now here I was, twelve again, watching her grin as she pulled a shiny rock from the mud like it was gold. "Look, Aron! Told you!" she crowed, holding it up, her pigtails bouncing. And me? I was crumbling inside, all those chances she gave me flashing like lightning in my skull. She''d been my hero¡ªthe Hero¡ªand I''d spit in her face every time. Called her weak for caring. Called myself strong for burning it all down.


    "You idiot," I muttered, barely hearing myself over the creek''s gurgle. My hand twitched, then..


    Slap!!


    I cracked it across my cheek, hard enough to sting. Amelia froze, rock halfway to showing me again, her mouth dropping open.


    "Aron?" she said, voice small, like I''d scared her. "What''re you¡­"


    "Stupid," I hissed, and..


    Slap!!


    Did it again, other side this time, the sound sharp in the quiet. My face burned, my eyes were stinging, and I couldn''t stop. "Fucking moron¡ª" Slap. "¡ªprideful asshole¡ª" Slap. Each hit rattled something loose, like I could beat the regret out of me, beat that cold, dead Aron into the dirt where he belonged.


    "Aron, stop!" Amelia was on her feet, grabbing my wrists, her muddy hands slippery but strong. "What''s wrong? Why''re you¡ª" Her eyes were huge, green and shiny, and she looked so damn confused it almost broke me right there.


    I yanked away, stumbling back, my breath hitching like I''d run a mile. "I''m fine," I lied, voice rough, wiping my sleeve across my face ''cause¡ªshit, was I crying? "Just¡­ hit myself too hard playing or something. Dumb kid stuff."


    She didn''t buy it. I could tell, the way her brows scrunched up, the way she hugged that stupid rock to her chest like it''d protect her from whatever was wrong with me. "You''re not dumb," she said, quiet but fierce. "You''re my friend."


    Friend. That word hit like a fist to the gut. I turned away, staring at the water rushing over the stones, all blurry now. "Yeah," I mumbled. "Guess I am."


    She didn''t push it¡ªthank the gods or whatever threw me back here¡ªshe just plopped down beside me, close enough I could feel her warmth but not touching. We sat there, her humming some tune I didn''t know, me trying to stuff all that guilt and memory back into the box it''d busted out of. I''d been such a bastard to her. Should''ve listened. Should''ve gone home when she asked. But I didn''t, and she''d paid for it¡ªpaid with tears and a sword through my heart.


    "Wanna keep digging?" she asked after a bit, nudging me with her elbow, all sunshine again like I hadn''t just lost it.


    I forced a grin, shaky but real. "Yeah, sure. Let''s find more treasure."


    She beamed, and we went back to it¡ªher laughing, me pretending I wasn''t drowning in my own head. I didn''t deserve this, didn''t deserve her, not after everything. But she was here, and I was too, and maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªI could figure out how to be the friend she thought I was. One muddy rock at a time.

 Chapter 2: Ma

    The sun was sinking fast, turning the sky this bruised purple color, and me and Amelia were still messing around under that big oak. She''d started this game¡ªsomething about knights and bandits, I dunno, I was half-listening ''cause her laugh kept tripping me up. She''d swing a stick like it was a sword, all "Take that, you scoundrel!" and I''d flop on the grass, pretending she got me good. "Oh no, I''m done for!" I''d groan, clutching my chest, and she''d giggle ''til her face went red. It was dumb. It was perfect. I could''ve stayed there forever, letting her boss me around ''til the stars came out.


    But then her dad showed up, stomping through the dust like a bull with a burr up its ass. Big guy¡ªbeard patchy like he gave up halfway shaving, eyes hard but twitchy, always scanning the shadows. "Amelia! Get over here¡ªnight''s creeping in!" he barked, voice rough as gravel. She dropped her stick mid-swing, shoulders hunching like she''d been caught stealing cookies.


    "Coming, Pa!" she called, shooting me this quick, sorry look¡ªlike she hated leaving but didn''t dare argue. He grabbed her arm, not rough exactly, but firm, yanking her toward their little shack on the hill. I got it, though. Eldoria''s all sunshine and bread baskets ''til dusk hits¡ªthen it''s a different beast. Folks here play at being guards, swinging pitchforks like they''re heroes, but it''s bullshit. Real danger''s out there, and her dad knew it. Monsters¡ªsome with claws, some with human faces. I''d seen ''em both, back when I was¡­ well, you know. King of the bastards.


    She waved as they went, this tiny flick of her hand, and I waved back, feeling like an idiot ''cause my throat was all tight. Then they were gone, swallowed by the twilight, and it was just me, the tree, and the crickets starting their damn chorus. The air cooled fast, prickling my arms, and I should''ve headed home. Ma''d be there, probably kneading dough or stirring something that''d make my stomach growl from a mile off. But my feet wouldn''t move. Couldn''t.


    Home meant facing her. Ma, with her soft hands and that smile that always saw too much. Last time I saw her¡ªreally saw her¡ªshe was screaming, smoke choking the air, my flames licking up the walls ''cause I was too far gone to stop. I''d burned her out of my life, out of everyone''s, and now what? I''m s''posed to waltz in, say "Hey, Ma, I''m back, didn''t mean to torch your whole world"? My chest did that galloping thing again, and I kicked at a root sticking outta the dirt, hard enough my toe throbbed.


    "Fuck," I muttered, voice still cracking like a twig. How do you look your ma in the eye when you''ve got her ashes on your soul? I paced a little, grass crunching under my boots¡ªtoo small, these stupid kid boots¡ªand the guilt just kept piling up, heavy as a sack of stones. I should''ve been better. Should''ve been someone she could brag about down at the well, not the monster who¡ªslap!¡ªI cracked both hands across my cheeks at once, so hard my ears rang. The sting snapped me out of it for a sec, but not enough.


    "Stupid," I hissed, and kept walking¡ªmarching, really¡ªtoward home. Couldn''t stay out here forever, even if I wanted to. Night''s claws were longer than Eldoria''s play-pretend guards could handle, and I wasn''t dumb enough to test that yet. Not this body, anyway¡ªtwelve-year-old me couldn''t punch through a wet sack, let alone a wolf or¡­ worse.


    The village faded behind me, houses going dark, lanterns flickering like they were scared of the shadows too. Our place was at the edge¡ªlittle hut, sagging roof, the kind you''d miss if you blinked. But the smell hit me before I even saw it. Warm, thick, curling up my nose¡ªbread, maybe, or stew, something Ma always had going. My stomach growled, traitor that it was, and I stopped dead, one hand on the doorframe, the wood rough under my fingers.


    Inside, I could hear her humming¡ªsoft, off-key, the way she always did when she thought no one was listening. The fire''d be crackling, probably, throwing little sparks up the chimney. I pictured her there, sleeves rolled up, flour dusting her apron, glancing at the door every few minutes ''cause I was late again. Same old Ma. Except I wasn''t the same old Aron¡ªnot the kid she''d sent off to play that morning, not even close.


    I pushed the door open, slow, the hinges creaking like they were ratting me out. The smell hit harder¡ªdefinitely stew, meaty and rich, carrots or something sweet in there too. My mouth watered, but my legs locked up. She''d turn around any second, see me standing there like a ghost, and what the hell was I gonna say? "Hey, Ma, funny story¡ªlast time we met, I killed you"? I slapped my cheeks again¡ªquieter this time, just a quick smack-smack¡ªtrying to knock some sense into myself. Didn''t work.


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    "Aron?" Her voice came, soft but sharp, cutting through the hum. "That you, boy?"


    I stood there, one foot in, one foot still on the porch, the door creaking shut behind me like it was daring me to move. That smell¡ªgods, that smell¡ªstew simmering, thick with meat and something sweet, maybe carrots, tugging me forward like a rope ''round my gut. I missed it. Missed her. Ma. More than I could''ve admitted back when I was busy burning everything she''d ever touched. My chest was all knotted up¡ªhalf scared, half aching¡ªlike I didn''t know if I''d laugh or bawl when I saw her.


    I shuffled in, slow, boots scuffing the warped floorboards, following that aroma like it was the only thing keeping me from bolting. The hut was dim, just the firelight flickering from the kitchen, throwing shadows that danced on the walls¡ªold walls, patched with mud and love, the kind that hold a family together ''til they don''t. I peeked around the corner, breath stuck somewhere dumb, and there she was.


    Ma. Twenties still, somehow¡ªbeautiful like they always said, white hair like mine spilling down her back, tied loose with a scrap of cloth. Her apron was this patchwork mess¡ªbits of old shirts and skirts stitched together, wrapped tight ''round her waist, flour dusted across it like snow. She was stirring the pot, humming that same off-key tune, her hands moving steady even though I knew¡ªI knew¡ªthey''d shake if she ever stopped pretending she was fine.


    "Ma¡­" It slipped out, quiet, wobbly, like part of me still thought this was a dream, some cruel trick my head cooked up to twist the knife deeper. She turned, just her head at first, and her voice came back¡ªcalm, soft, warm as the fire. "Aron, love, you''re late again."


    That was it. That voice. I didn''t think¡ªjust ran, feet slapping the floor, and crashed into her from behind, arms wrapping ''round her middle like I was five again. She yelped, this little "Oh!" jumping out of her, the spoon clattering against the pot. I scared her¡ªshit, I didn''t mean to¡ªbut I couldn''t let go. "Sorry," I mumbled into her back, voice cracking, tears spilling hot down my cheeks. "Sorry, Ma¡ªsorry, sorry¡ª"


    "Aron, what in the¡ª" She twisted, trying to look at me, but I kept my face buried in her apron, clinging like if I let go she''d vanish again, turn to ash like last time. The tears wouldn''t stop, these big, ugly sobs shaking me, and I kept choking out "sorry" ''til it didn''t even sound like a word anymore. All I could see was her screaming, flames roaring, me standing there with that cold, dead grin¡ªsorry, Ma, sorry I fucked it all up.


    "Hey, hey now," she said, firm but gentle, peeling my arms off just enough to turn around. Her hands¡ªcalloused, warm¡ªgrabbed my face, thumbs swiping at the mess streaming outta my blue eyes. "What''s this, huh? You think I''m mad ''cause you''re late? I ain''t gonna tan your hide over a cold supper, boy."


    She thought that''s what it was¡ªme bawling ''cause I''d missed curfew. She didn''t know. Didn''t know these weren''t sad tears, not really¡ªthey were alive, bursting out ''cause she was here, real, her apron scratching my cheek, her voice wrapping ''round me like a blanket I''d forgotten I needed. I''d lost this¡ªher kindness, her humbling, stupid love¡ªand I''d let it slip away ''til I was nothing but a monster in a crown. Not anymore.


    I sniffed, loud and gross, and she laughed¡ªthis soft, hiccupy sound that made my chest hurt worse. "Gods, you''re a mess," she said, ruffling my hair like I was still her little shadow. "C''mon, sit. Stew''s hot, and you look half-starved."


    She nudged me to the table¡ªthat rickety thing with one leg shorter than the rest, wobbling every time you breathed on it¡ªand ladled out a bowl. The steam hit my face, meat and herbs and home, and she sat across from me, sliding it over. I grabbed the spoon, still sniffling, and she just watched, chin in her hand, eyes soft like she was trying to figure me out.


    "Ma," I said, voice thick, staring at the broth ''til it blurred. "I¡ªI missed you."


    She blinked, head tilting. "Missed me? I''ve been right here, you goof. Where you been at all day?"


    "Out," I mumbled, shoving a spoonful in my mouth ''cause I couldn''t look at her too long¡ªthose eyes''d see right through me if I let ''em. It burned my tongue, but I didn''t care. Tasted like every supper I''d forgotten, every night I''d traded for blood and fire. I promised myself, right then, chewing that too-hot bite¡ªI''d cherish this. Her. This life. No more letting her cry, no more watching her burn ''cause my dumb ass thought power was worth more than her smile.


    "You''re actin'' funny," she said, squinting at me, but there was a grin tugging at her mouth. "What''d you get into out there? Fall in a creek or somethin''?"


    I snorted, almost choked on the stew, and wiped my nose with my sleeve. "Yeah, somethin'' like that."


    She shook her head, still grinning, and got up to grab more bread from the counter¡ªfresh, crusty, the kind that crackles when you tear it. I watched her move, the way the firelight caught her hair, turning it gold at the edges, and I swore¡ªquiet, to myself¡ªI wouldn''t let it happen again. Not to her. Not to me. This was mine now, this little kitchen, this wobbly table, this woman who didn''t know I''d lost her once.


    I''d hold onto it ''til my hands bled if I had to.

 Chapter 3: Ambition

    The bed was small¡ªtoo damn small, really¡ªjust a creaky frame shoved against the wall, straw mattress poking me through the thin blanket like it was pissed I was there. I lay on my side, curled up tight, the stew still warm in my belly, and for once, my head wasn''t screaming. Peace, you know? Like the world finally shut up for a minute. Ma was right there, pressed close, her breathing soft and steady, her hair tickling my neck where it spilled over the pillow. Gods, it was embarrassing¡ªme, twelve again, squished up with my ma like some clingy toddler. She used to sleep on the floor by the table, ''cause this hut''s so tiny it''s more a suggestion than a house, but tonight she''d climbed in with me, no fuss, just slid under the blanket like it was nothing.


    "Aron, you''re fidgetin'' like a squirrel," she''d mumbled earlier, half-asleep, when I kept shifting, trying to give her space that didn''t exist. I''d frozen, face hot, muttering something dumb like, "Uh, sorry, Ma." But she just patted my arm¡ªthose calloused hands, gentle as hell¡ªand stayed put. She knew I was off, all twitchy and weird after bawling into her apron, and instead of asking why, she just¡­ stayed. Like she always used to. Kind and caring, same as I remembered before I went and fucked it all up.


    I couldn''t forget it, though¡ªwhat I''d done. The fire, her screams, the way I''d stood there, cold as stone, watching her burn ''cause I thought I was meant for more. It clawed at me, even now, lying here with her snoring soft next to me. But staring at the ceiling¡ªcracked mud, lit faint by the dying embers in the hearth¡ªI figured it wasn''t time to brood. Not tonight. Not with her warm against my back, alive, real, her heartbeat thumping through the thin wall of my ribs. I''d done enough moping, enough slapping myself stupid. This was¡­ something else.


    I rolled over, careful not to wake her, and propped up on an elbow, looking around. The hut was cozy in that beat-up way¡ªwalls patched with whatever Ma could scrounge, a single shelf sagging under chipped clay mugs, the table wobbling like it was drunk. Firelight flickered over it all, throwing these long, lazy shadows that danced slow across the floor. The air smelled like stew still, mixed with woodsmoke and that dusty, lived-in scent of home. It was peaceful, yeah¡ªmore than I deserved¡ªbut it hit me hard: she deserved better than this.


    Ma, with her shaky hands and her patched apron¡ªshe shouldn''t be scraping by in this cramped little shack, cooking over a fire that smoked half the time, sleeping on a floor when I wasn''t hogging the bed. She oughta have a real house, you know? Something sturdy, with a proper roof that didn''t leak when the rains came. A warm bed with a quilt that wasn''t threadbare, good food¡ªnot just scraps she stretched into miracles¡ªmaybe even someone to check those hands she hid when they trembled too much. She was beautiful, tough, the kind of woman who''d give you her last crust and call it nothing, but damn it, she deserved more.


    I flopped back down, staring at the dark now, my chest doing that tight thing again¡ªnot guilt this time, but something bigger, something itchy. A son''s gift, that''s what it''d be. I''d make it happen. Me, Aron¡ªwho''d been the Demon King, who''d had power to crack mountains and gold to drown in¡ªI could figure this out. Not with fire or blood, not this time, but with¡­ shit, I dunno, something. Work, maybe. Hustle. Whatever it took to give her a life that didn''t wear her down to the bone.


    She shifted beside me, muttering something garbled¡ªprobably dreaming about chasing chickens or yelling at me for tracking mud in¡ªand I couldn''t help it, I grinned. Dumb, lopsided thing, my face half-buried in the pillow. "Yeah, Ma," I whispered, real quiet so she wouldn''t hear, "you''re stuck with me now." And I meant it¡ªmore than I''d meant anything in either damn life I''d lived. I''d screwed her over once, let her burn while I played king. Not again. This cramped little bed, this smoky little hut¡ªit was a start, and I''d build it into something she could lean on.


    Morning snuck up quiet, the kind of early where the sky''s still half-asleep, all gray and soft around the edges. I woke up before Ma¡ªher snores were little puffs now, barely there¡ªand I slipped outta that straw-stuffed bed, careful not to make the frame squeak too loud. She didn''t stir, just rolled a bit, her white hair fanning over the pillow like a messy halo. I stood there a sec, watching her, my chest doing that tight thing again, but I shook it off. No time for sappy shit today.


    I crept out, boots in hand ''til I hit the porch¡ªdidn''t wanna wake her with my clomping¡ªand the air hit me, cool and crisp, smelling like dew and dirt instead of the blood and ash I used to choke on. Fucking weird, that. Used to be I''d wake up to screams, the tang of iron in my nose, my hands itching for a fight. Now it''s just¡­ this. Eldoria at dawn, all sleepy and green, chickens clucking somewhere down the hill like they''re gossiping about last night''s scraps. I sucked in a big breath, let it out slow, and glanced back at the hut¡ªsagging roof, walls patched like a quilt gone wrong. Home. My home. For now.


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    I was twelve, right? Scrawny, knobby-kneed, voice still cracking like a dumbass¡ªbut in this world, that''s when you start being a man. No more kid games, not really. Shit runs on power and money here, always has¡ªsame as back when I was the Demon King, only now I don''t have a throne or a pile of gold to throw around. I kicked at a pebble, watched it skitter across the dirt path, and my brain started churning. I didn''t have much¡ªtwo hands, a head full of memories, and a stomach that growled too damn loud¡ªbut I had something. Knowledge. I knew what was coming.


    My future¡ªmy old one¡ªwas a fucking train wreck. I remembered it clear as day: ambition wasn''t what screwed me, not on its own. Sure, I wanted to climb, wanted to be untouchable, but it was the temptations that got me. Power whispering in my ear, dark deals I couldn''t say no to, that first taste of magic that burned so good I chased it ''til I lost everything. Ma. Amelia. Me. It started a year from now¡ªsome asshole with a silver tongue and a cursed trinket, dangling it like candy ''til I bit. That''s what turned me cold, turned me into the bastard who torched his own roots. Not this time. Not fucking again.


    I leaned against the porch post, wood creaking under my elbow, and chewed my lip. What''d I have, really? A head full of what-ifs¡ªbattles I''d fought, deals I''d made, tricks I''d pulled. Couldn''t snap my fingers and burn shit down anymore¡ªhell, I''d break my wrist trying¡ªbut I knew stuff. Where the bandits''d hit next spring, which merchant''d cheat you blind, how to spot a good blade from a junk one. Little things, maybe, but they''d stack up if I played it right.


    "Gotta start somewhere," I muttered, voice still half a squeak, and snorted at myself. Great, Aron, real kingly¡ªtalking to the chickens like they''re your council. I shoved my hands in my pockets¡ªempty, ''course, not even a coin to flip¡ªand started walking, no real plan, just moving ''cause standing still felt like choking. The grass was wet under my boots, soaking the hems of these ratty trousers, and the air had that sharp bite like rain might come later. Good. Rain''d keep folks inside, give me space to think.


    A year. That''s what I had ''til the shit hit¡ª''til that slick-talking bastard showed up with her poison promises. I''d need muscle by then¡ªnot Demon King muscle, just enough to swing a stick and not fall over¡ªand some coin. Enough to get Ma a bed that didn''t stab her, a roof that held, maybe a healer for those hands she thought I didn''t notice shaking. I''d do it legit this time¡ªor close enough. No shortcuts, no dark shit. Just me, twelve and dumb, clawing up for her.


    I plopped down right there at the village edge, legs crossed on the damp grass, the morning chill still clinging to my bones. No one was around¡ªtoo early for even Tully''s creaky ass to hobble out¡ªso I figured, hell, why not? I''d done this a thousand times before¡ªback when I was Aron the Big Bad, sitting on thrones made of skulls, sucking in power like it was breakfast. Meditation, yeah, but not the soft shit saints preach about. Mine was sharper, hungrier. I shut my eyes, took a breath¡ªslow, deep, in through the nose¡ªand let my mind settle, like water going still after you toss a rock in it.


    It started soft, this hum in my head, like a string plucked way down deep. I knew that buzz¡ªfelt it a million times when I was the Demon King, pulling magic outta the air ''til it roared through me. My forehead tingled, right smack in the middle, vibrating harder, and there it was¡ªember. That spark, the root of all the good shit, the stuff that turns men into gods or monsters. Took me years to figure this out back then, hunched in caves, sweating through nights, learning to grab it raw. I''d just let it flood me before, no filter, no finesse¡ªpure chaos, burning me up as much as it fueled me. Dumbass move. Got me strong, sure, but it turned me into¡­ well, you know.


    Not this time. I had a year ''til temptation came knocking, and I wasn''t gonna be some sloppy kid scrambling for scraps. I''d use what I knew¡ªsteal a page from Amelia, even. She''d done it different, back when she was the Hero¡ªall saintly and pure, soaking ember through her forehead like me, but filtering it down to her heart. Called it cleansing, sanctifying, whatever bullshit the priests yapped about. Made her glow like a damn lantern, all righteous and steady. Me? I wasn''t about that noise. I let it hum stronger, pushed it past my skull, down my spine¡ªprickling, electric¡ªspreading it out, slow and deliberate, into every nerve, every twitchy corner of this scrawny body. My way. Not pure, not holy¡ªjust mine.


    Hours slipped by¡ªdon''t ask me how many, I lost track¡ªgrass soaking my trousers, sun creeping higher, warming my face ''til the chill faded. My breathing stayed steady, in and out, chest rising like a bellows, and that ember flowed, little sparks crackling through me, waking up bits I hadn''t felt since I was twelve the first time. Not enough to hurl fireballs or scare the chickens¡ªshit, I''d probably set my own hair on fire if I tried¡ªbut enough to feel something. A start. Strength I could build on, maybe enough to haul Ma outta this dirt-pit village before the bad shit rolled in.


    I finally cracked my eyes open, blinking against the light¡ªmidday now, sun high and smug overhead¡ªand there she was.


    ''¡­..Amelia.''


    Right in front of me, sitting cross-legged in the grass, maybe three feet away, staring like I''d grown horns again. Her pigtails were lopsided, one drooping lower than the other, and those green eyes were locked on me, wide and weird, like she''d caught me picking my nose or something.


    "Fuck¡ª''Melia!" I yelped, voice cracking halfway through¡ªgoddamn puberty¡ªand I jerked back, nearly toppling over. My heart slammed into my ribs, ember still buzzing in my veins, making my fingers twitch. "How long you been there¡­?"

 Chapter 4: A Heros Potential

    Chapter 4


    So there I was, stuck in this standoff with Amelia, her perched in the grass like some curious cat, me trying to play it cool after she¡¯d busted me glowing or buzzing or whatever she thought I was doing. Her green eyes were drilling into me, big and bright, like she could see straight through this kid disguise to the Demon King I used to be. For a hot second, I panicked¡ªthought she¡¯d clocked me, game over. But nah, she was just staring, all innocent and kid-like, same as I was supposed to be.


    Time stretched out, her gaze locked on mine, and I could feel the weight of it¡ªthose eyes, unblinking, peeling me apart. Finally, she caved, breaking first. Her cheeks flared up red, like she¡¯d been caught doing something embarrassing, and she dropped her head, fiddling with her hands in her lap. Defeat, I guess. I smirked¡ªscore one for me¡ªbut my brain was already racing somewhere else, spinning a plan so fast it nearly tripped over itself.


    Back in the day, I ran the show solo. Trusted nobody, leaned on nobody. That¡¯s how you claw your way to the top, right? Kept me sharp, got me to the pinnacle¡ªDemon King, big shot, all that jazz. But it was a lonely gig. No one to share the view, no one to catch you when some hero jams a sword in your chest and leaves you bleeding out, your old buddy sobbing over your corpse. Real poetic end, huh? Point is, I¡¯d done it all alone, and it sucked.


    Now, here¡¯s Amelia¡ªlittle ¡®Melia, pigtails all crooked, staring at me like I¡¯m some kind of wizard. And I¡¯m looking at her, really looking, and I see it: potential. Not just the hero she¡¯s destined to be, all shiny and saint-approved, but something bigger, wilder, locked up tight in this scrappy kid who doesn¡¯t even know what she¡¯s got. She¡¯s already strong¡ªstronger than Bram, that loudmouth bully who terrorizes the village. One good swing, and she¡¯d flatten him, no sweat. But it¡¯s more than muscle. There¡¯s magic in her, raw and buzzing, just waiting for someone to crack it open. The saints¡¯ll find her eventually, scoop her up, turn her into their golden girl. But why let them have her? Why not me?


    Yeah, I get it¡ªcrazy talk. Me, ex-Demon King, mentoring the future hero? Sounds like a recipe for disaster. But if I take her under my wing, guide that power¡ªnot to the dark side, not to the light, just to something smart¡ªshe could be unstoppable. And me? I¡¯d have someone in my corner, someone to watch my back when the world catches up to who I really am. Maybe this time, I don¡¯t have to go it alone.


    Here¡¯s the catch: she barely knows me. We just met¡ªlike, officially met, not counting all the times I¡¯ve watched her from the shadows of my past life. Can I get her to trust me? It¡¯s a long shot, like chucking a dart into pitch black and hoping it sticks. But I¡¯ve hit worse marks. I sucked in a breath, let it out slow, and dropped my voice, all serious-like, trying to sound deep instead of desperate.


    ¡°Amelia,¡± I said, low and gravelly, like I was about to lay some heavy truth on her. Her head snapped up, eyes locking on mine again, wide and waiting. ¡°Do you want to be with me and get stron¡­.¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± she shouted, cutting me off before I could even finish. She launched herself at me, arms flapping like she was gonna tackle me into the dirt. ¡°Yes, yes, I want to be with you!¡± Her face went beet-red, and she shrank back a little, mumbling, ¡°I mean, um, strong sounds good too.¡±


    I froze, mouth hanging open, brain scrambling to catch up. What the hell? That was too easy¡ªway too easy. I¡¯d barely got the question out, and she¡¯s already jumping in, no hesitation, no ¡°what¡¯s your deal, Aron?¡± Just pure, blind trust. Shit, was she always this quick to sign up? No wonder the saints nabbed her later.


    ¡°Uh, okay,¡± I managed, rubbing the back of my neck, still reeling. ¡°So¡­ you wanna train, then? Get stronger?¡±


    She nodded hard, bouncing on her knees, all lit up like I¡¯d just promised her the moon. ¡°Yeah! You were doing something cool, right? Teach me! I wanna be cool too!¡±


    I snorted¡ªcouldn¡¯t stop it. ¡°It¡¯s not ¡®cool,¡¯ ¡®Melia. It¡¯s meditation. For magic and stuff.¡±


    ¡°Magic?¡± she gasped, scooting closer ¡®til her knees bumped mine. ¡°Like wizards and dragons?¡±


    ¡°Sorta,¡± I said, wiggling my fingers like some dumb stage magician. ¡°More like making stuff happen¡ªboom, no matches needed.¡±


    Her grin stretched ear to ear. ¡°Teach me, Aron! Please? I¡¯ll be good, I swear!¡±


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    I swallowed, throat tight. This was it¡ªAmelia, future hero, begging me, the guy who¡¯d one day be her enemy, to show her the ropes. Everything could go wrong. Probably would. But screw it¡ªI was already in too deep. Might as well see where this ride takes us.


    ¡°Deal,¡± I said, sticking out my hand. ¡°But it¡¯s our secret, got it? No blabbing to your pa or anyone.¡±


    She grabbed my hand, squeezing tight, her palm warm and kinda sticky. ¡°Secret,¡± she whispered, all serious, then flashed that grin again¡ªthe one that made my chest feel funny. ¡°You¡¯re the best, Aron.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I muttered, rolling my eyes but smiling back.


    .


    .


    .


    The river slid past us, lazy and unbothered, sunlight splintering off its surface like broken glass. We¡¯d been at it all morning¡ªAmelia swinging that stick like it was part of her now, me barking corrections until my throat scratched raw. Months of this, days bleeding into weeks, weeks into months, and she¡¯d soaked it all up, a sponge greedy for every word I threw her way. I¡¯d only had to show her that one move¡ªthe sidestep, the twist¡ªonce, and she¡¯d had it, quick as a blink. Now, we were slumped under the oak tree, its gnarled roots poking up like they were trying to trip us even sitting down. The shade was cool, but the heat stuck to us anyway, heavy and damp.


    She was too close again. Always was. Her shoulder bumped mine, her knee brushing my leg as she shifted to pluck at the grass. I¡¯d told her once, months back, ¡°Don¡¯t get too close, ¡®Melia,¡± voice sharp like a blade. She¡¯d just laughed, that bright, warm sound, and stayed put. I stopped saying it after a while. Stopped caring, maybe. She was humming now, some nonsense tune, tossing grass into the wind like it was a game. Her hair was a tangle, sweat sticking it to her forehead, and there was this smudge of dirt on her cheek that made her look half-feral. She grinned at me, all teeth and light, the kind of smile I hadn¡¯t seen since before¡ªbefore the dark, before I burned everything down. Back when we were just kids. Seeing it now twisted something in me, sharp and sweet.


    ¡°You¡¯re getting good,¡± I said, voice gravelly from shouting. ¡°Too good.¡±


    Her grin widened. ¡°Yeah? You think?¡±


    ¡°Mm. Sponge-brain. Suckin¡¯ it all up.¡±


    She laughed, loud and sudden, like a bell ringing out over the quiet. ¡°Guess I¡¯ve got a good teacher, huh?¡±


    I snorted, ripping up a fistful of grass and letting it sift through my fingers. ¡°Nah. You¡¯re just¡­ you.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± She tilted her head, eyes squinting like she could peel me open and look inside.


    ¡°Dunno. You¡¯re quick. Always were.¡±


    Her smile softened, edges going gentle, and she leaned in closer. Her shoulder pressed harder against mine, warm through my shirt. I stiffened¡ªold instincts kicking in¡ªbut didn¡¯t pull away. Couldn¡¯t. Not when she was looking at me like that, all open and soft, like I was someone worth keeping around.


    ¡°You¡¯re weird, Aron,¡± she said, but it wasn¡¯t mean. Just warm, like she was wrapping the words around me.


    ¡°Takes one to know one.¡±


    She giggled, and it was like dropping a stone in a still pond¡ªripples spreading, loosening the knot in my chest. I flicked my eyes to her, caught the way the sun snagged in her hair, turning the ends gold. My stupid heart lurched, and I cursed it silently. This wasn¡¯t the plan. Wasn¡¯t supposed to feel like this. I¡¯d pushed her away once, built walls of ice and shadow to keep her out. Now those walls were dust, and I wasn¡¯t sure I minded.


    ¡°Aron?¡± Her voice went quiet, the laughter draining out.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°You ever think about¡­ leaving? Just going somewhere else?¡±


    My gut clenched, a cold fist wrapping around it. ¡°Like where?¡±


    She shrugged, tugging at her sleeve, fingers fidgeting. ¡°Dunno. Anywhere. See what¡¯s out there.¡±


    I swallowed, throat tight. ¡°Sometimes.¡±


    She nodded, like that was all she needed. ¡°I¡¯d go with you. If you wanted.¡±


    The words hit like a punch, stealing my breath. She said it so casual, so easy, like it wasn¡¯t a promise that could shatter us both. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re sayin¡¯, ¡®Melia.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I do.¡± She turned to me, eyes blazing, fierce and sure. ¡°I¡¯d follow you anywhere, Aron. You¡¯re my best friend.¡±


    Friend. It cut deep, that word, sharp on both sides. I¡¯d torched it once, turned it to cinders along with everything else. Now she was holding it out again, bright and whole, and I didn¡¯t know if I could take it. Didn¡¯t know if I deserved it.


    I looked away, stared at the river instead. It glittered back, a mirror of the sky, the trees, us¡ªtwo kids pressed too close, caught in something bigger than we could name. The water murmured low, a sound that mocked the silence stretching between us.


    ¡°You¡¯re stuck with me, then,¡± I mumbled, trying to keep it light, keep it safe.


    She laughed again, softer, warmer. ¡°Good. ¡®Cause I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡±


    Her hand slipped into mine, fingers threading through like it was the most natural thing. I froze for a second, then let it happen. Let her hold on, let her think this was simple¡ªjust two kids, a tree, a promise. But inside, it was chaos. Memories slammed against the present¡ªher screams when I¡¯d turned, the fire in my hands, the dark I¡¯d chosen. Guilt churned, thick and bitter, but there was something else too, something warm and fragile flickering under it. Hope, maybe. Or something dumber.


    I didn¡¯t pull away. Just sat there, her hand in mine, the river whispering secrets we couldn¡¯t say aloud. The breeze tugged at her hair, and the sun caught it again, making it glow like a halo she didn¡¯t know she wore. She squeezed my hand, just once, and I squeezed back before I could stop myself.


    ¡°You¡¯re still weird,¡± she said, grinning like she¡¯d won something.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered, lips twitching. ¡°And you¡¯re still a pain.¡±


    She laughed, and I let myself smile¡ªjust a little¡ªwhile the river kept moving, carrying pieces of us downstream where we couldn¡¯t follow.

 Chapter 5: Power of the Past

    The ember hummed. Aaron felt it in his hands, his legs, every inch of his skin vibrating like a plucked string about to snap. For months, he¡¯d watched it, studied it¡ªreleased it into his body slow, let it sink into his nerves until it was part of him, a second heartbeat he couldn¡¯t shake. Twelve years old, scrawny as hell, and his body was a live wire, buzzing with something he¡¯d once called power and now just called mine. He sat on the riverbank, boots dangling over the edge, the water below dark and restless, like it knew what he was planning.


    Months of this. Months of coaxing ember in, letting it settle, feeling it prickle under his skin like a thousand needles, each one a memory of who he¡¯d been. Before regression, he¡¯d mastered it all¡ªmages with their grimoires, warriors with their reinforced bodies, and him, some unholy bastard of both. He¡¯d gone further. Spells woven into his brain, his eyes, his bones. He¡¯d even cut himself open once¡ªtwice, actually¡ªshoved a dragon¡¯s heart into his chest, an experimental organ he¡¯d stitched together with trembling hands and too much blood. The scalpel¡¯s bite still lingered in his dreams, the way his ribs had screamed, the pulse of that heart syncing with his own until he didn¡¯t know where he ended and it began.


    Not this time. No more blood-soaked shortcuts. That pain¡ªhe could still taste it, coppery and sharp, and he wasn¡¯t going back. He rubbed his wrists, where scars should¡¯ve been but weren¡¯t, and muttered, ¡°Third time¡¯s the charm, right?¡± A laugh slipped out, dry and jagged, because it wasn¡¯t funny, not really.


    First, the brain. That¡¯s where it had to start. Back in his past life, he¡¯d authored a grimoire¡ªhis own, scratched out in ink and desperation¡ªand three spells from it still burned in his mind. One to pull ember to his head, automatic, like breathing. One to sharpen every thought, every flicker of cognition, until his mind was a blade. And one to lock in memories, so he¡¯d never forget¡ªnot Ma¡¯s off-key humming, not Amelia¡¯s grin, not the weight of what he¡¯d done.


    He shut his eyes. The river¡¯s murmur dropped away, the wind¡¯s howl faded to a sigh. It was just him and the ember now, a dance he knew too well. He pictured the spells¡ªsymbols twisting like smoke¡ªand started weaving. The first one snapped into place, a jolt that made his jaw lock. Ember flooded his skull, hot and bright, a star bursting behind his lids. He hissed, fingers clawing into the dirt, but he kept going. The second spell crept in slower, threading through his thoughts like silk, sharpening them until every sound¡ªthe water¡¯s lap, the crack of a twig¡ªhit like a gunshot. Too clear. Too much.


    Then the third. Memory slammed him back: Ma kneading dough, flour on her cheeks; Amelia laughing as she dodged his clumsy punches; the dragon¡¯s heart, slick and pulsing in his grip, blood dripping onto the floor. He bit his lip, tasted metal, and wrestled it down. The memories locked in, vivid, unyielding¡ªa library he couldn¡¯t escape.


    He opened his eyes, gasping. The world stabbed at him¡ªcolors too bright, the river¡¯s ripple too loud. His head throbbed, a dull ache synced with the ember¡¯s hum. It was done. He¡¯d cast the spells, planted them in his brain like seeds in cracked earth. But there was a flicker, a whisper in the dark corners of his skull. More, it said. You could be more. The old him, clawing up from the grave.


    ¡°No,¡± he snapped, voice rough, shaking his head like he could knock it loose. He scrubbed his hands on his trousers, fast and hard, until his palms stung. The river stared back, cold and uncaring, carrying secrets downstream. Could it wash him clean? He snorted. Fat chance. Some stains stuck.


    Aaron sucked in a breath, let it out slow, like he was trying to remember how lungs worked. His head was buzzing¡ªenhanced cognition, they called it, like some fancy textbook term could cover the way his brain felt like a goddamn hornet¡¯s nest. It wasn¡¯t new, not really¡ªhe¡¯d been the Demon King once, torching shit and laughing while the world screamed. But this body? This scrawny, twelve-year-old sack of bones? It was a rookie, trembling under the weight of a mind that could outrun a storm.


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    ¡°Fuck me,¡± he muttered, rubbing his eyes ¡®til they stung. Memories hit harder now¡ªtoo sharp, too loud. Ma kneading dough with flour-dusted hands, her off-key hum filling the kitchen. Amelia swinging a stick like a sword, grinning so wide it hurt to look at. And the bad stuff¡ªblood pooling under his boots, smoke choking his throat, a laugh he didn¡¯t recognize as his own. He shook his head, hard, like he could rattle it all loose. ¡°Get your shit together, man.¡±


    The spells helped. He¡¯d cast two earlier¡ªlittle miracles he¡¯d stitched together after months of fumbling. One to zoom in, like his eyes were a hawk¡¯s; another for clarity, peeling the blur off the world. Back in the day, syncing them was like juggling knives¡ªnow? It was breathing. The ember flowed through him, warm and restless, a current under his skin. He had room for two more spells, but one would do. The spell to see ember¡ªnot his, not from his grimoire, but a gift from her. That demoness, all silk and shadow, whispering promises before he fell back into this life. He¡¯d dodged her deal but kept the spell, and now it was his to wield.


    He closed his eyes, muttered the words¡ªold, heavy, tasting like ash¡ªand the air twitched. When he opened them, the world lit up. Ember everywhere: gold threading the trees, red pulsing in the river, blue bleeding through the sky. It was gorgeous, in a way that made your chest ache, like staring at a fire ¡®til your eyes watered.


    Then he saw it.


    Past the river¡¯s bend, a smear cut through the glow. Not ember. Not life. A demon¡¯s aura¡ªblack, slick, twisting like oil on water. His breath snagged, heart slamming so hard he felt it in his teeth. He knew that shape¡ªknew it like a bad dream you can¡¯t shake. His hands curled, nails biting into his palms ¡®til they bled, little red crescents staining the dirt.


    The river growled louder, like it was pissed off too. The wind kicked up, sharp and sudden, dragging a whiff of something rotten¡ªdecay, ruin, the kind of stink that sticks to your soul. Aaron stood there, legs shaky, boots sinking into the muddy bank. The village was behind him¡ªMa probably elbow-deep in bread, humming her nonsense tune; Amelia chasing shadows, laughing like the world was still good. His chest seized up, tight and hot. He wouldn¡¯t let it happen again. Not to them.


    He turned, started walking back, boots crunching on dry earth. The ember hummed in his veins, begging to be let loose¡ªspells buzzing in his skull like flies he couldn¡¯t swat. He shoved it down. Not yet. That aura was miles off, maybe, but close enough to choke the air. He could still see it in his mind, that dark stain spreading slow and sure, like ink in water.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he rasped, voice cracking like he¡¯d swallowed gravel. ¡°You wanna dance, you bastard? I¡¯ve got moves.¡± A dumb laugh slipped out¡ªhalf nerves, half defiance¡ªand he kicked a rock down the path. It skittered, bounced, landed in a ditch. Felt good, that little rebellion.


    The village came into view, all sagging roofs and chipped paint. Old Tully was out front of his shack, hat drooping over his eyes, tapping his foot like he was waiting for a train that¡¯d never come. Guy had a face like crumpled paper, but his eyes were soft, always watching. Aaron nodded at him, got a grunt back. Good enough.


    He passed the bodega¡ªfluorescents buzzing like dying wasps, floor sticky with spilled regret. Inside, someone coughed, wet and deep, and a radio crackled with static and half a song. The air smelled like rain was coming, heavy and electric, pressing down on his shoulders. He kept moving, hands shoved in his pockets, spells still simmering in his head.


    Back home, the porch swing creaked under its own weight, swaying in the breeze. He stopped, stared at it too long¡ªlong enough to see Ma sitting there years ago, holding him after he¡¯d skinned his knee, her hands rough but warm. ¡°You¡¯re alright, Aron,¡± she¡¯d said, voice all gravel and honey. He blinked, and the memory faded, leaving just the swing and the ache.


    He wasn¡¯t alright. Not yet. That demon was out there, and he was still a kid with too much power and not enough spine. But he wasn¡¯t running¡ªnot this time. He¡¯d fight ¡®til his bones broke, ¡®til his ember burned out, for the people inside that house. For the life he was clawing to keep.


    The door squeaked as he pushed it open. Ma glanced up, flour on her cheek, and smirked. ¡°You look like hell, Aaron. Come on, Supper¡¯s in ten.¡± He nodded, throat too tight to talk, and headed there. The demon¡¯s aura lingered in his mind¡ªa promise, a threat, a shadow he¡¯d have to face. Soon.

 Chapter 6: Encounter

    Aaron stood in the doorway, shoulder jammed against the frame, watching Ma knead dough like it was the only thing keeping her hands steady. Flour drifted in the air, soft as ash, catching the morning light spilling through the cracked window. He''d thought he had time¡ªweeks, maybe months¡ªbefore that demoness showed her face in Eldoria, her shadow slinking over his patched-up life. But time''s a bastard, always slipping through your fingers. She was here. Early. Too damn early.


    "Something''s off," he rasped, voice barely a whisper, lost under Ma''s off-key hum. It rattled him¡ªhad something changed? Had he fucked up the timeline? But it didn''t matter. What''s done was done, etched in blood and ember, no undoing it now.


    "Ma," he said, louder, stepping into the kitchen. She looked up, flour smudged on her cheek, eyes narrowing like she was ready to call him out. "Take it easy today, alright? I''ll do the field work."


    Her hands froze, dough sticking to her knuckles. "You? Since when do you volunteer for that?"


    "Just¡ªrest, Ma. I''ve got it." He tried for a grin, but it came out crooked, shaky. She squinted, suspicious, her fingers twitching like she wanted to grab him and shake some sense loose.


    "You''re actin'' like you''ve seen a ghost," she said, voice all gravel and grit, but she flicked a wrist, flour dusting the air. "Fine. Don''t kill yourself out there."


    "Yeah," he managed, throat tight, and bolted before her stare could peel him open.


    Amelia was out back, swinging that stick like it was forged for her, whacking a stump ''til splinters flew. Her pigtails swung wild, one drooping lower, and she spun when she heard his boots crunch. "Aron! You''re late¡ªspar with me!"


    "Not today, ''Melia." He stopped short, hands jammed in his pockets, dirt under his nails. "Stay with your pa, alright? Just¡ªstick close."


    She frowned, stick sagging in her grip. "Why? You okay?"


    "Yeah, I''m fine." A lie, thick and sour on his tongue. "Got field stuff. Busy day."


    Her eyes lingered, green and sharp, like she could see the cracks he was hiding. "Okay," she said slow, chewing her lip. "But you''re sparrin'' me tomorrow, no excuses."


    "Deal," he croaked, and turned away fast, before that grin of hers could sink its hooks in deeper.


    The field stretched out, wheat swaying lazy under a sun too hot for spring. Aaron didn''t waste time. Spells hummed in his bones, layered deep¡ªstrength, speed, endurance, all the tricks he''d stitched into himself over months. He grabbed the scythe, and it was over in minutes. Blade swung. Wheat fell. Bundles stacked. Done. Too quick, maybe, but he wasn''t here to play farmer¡ªhe was waiting.


    Market street was a mess of noise and dust, stalls sagging under their own weight, hawkers shouting over each other. Kids darted through, chasing a scruffy mutt with a stolen crust, their laughs sharp as broken glass. Aaron paced, boots scuffing the dirt, same as he had back then¡ªback when the demoness first caught him, her voice like honey over a blade. His stomach churned just thinking about it, a sour twist that made him want to spit.


    He stopped near Tully''s cart¡ªold man tapping his foot like always, hat drooping over eyes soft as a dog''s, watching the world like it might owe him a favor. Aaron nodded, got a grunt back, and let the ember flare in his eyes. The spell wasn''t his¡ªhers, that demoness, a gift he''d snatched before running from her deal. The world lit up, ember threading gold through the stalls, red pulsing in the crowd, blue bleeding from the sky like a bruise.


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    There she was.


    A merchant, draped in a human skin too smooth to be real. Her stall glittered with trinkets¡ªrings, charms, junk that caught the light wrong. Her smile was a trap, too kind, too soft, slicing through the market''s din like a whisper you can''t unhear. "Finest wares in Eldoria, dear¡ªcome take a look," she purred, voice velvet over venom. Aaron''s gut lurched, bile burning his throat. He wanted to hurl, let it splash her pristine skirt and watch that smile crack.


    He''d prepared for this. Ember simmered in him, spells woven into his muscles, his bones¡ªenough to break her if he had to. He moved past, slow, head down, boots dragging like any kid''s might. Playing the part. But her eyes¡ªthey burned into his back, wide and unblinking, same as before. What was it? What''d pulled her to him then, and now? His power? His guilt? Something he couldn''t scrape off?


    He kept walking, hands flexing, ember humming low and restless. The market buzzed on¡ªOld Tully muttering about the weather, a woman haggling over a bruised pear with shaky hands she tucked away fast. Aaron''s chest ached, not from magic but from them¡ªMa, Amelia, this scrappy little life he''d kill to keep. Her stare followed, a weight pressing down, heavy as the storm brewing in the air.


    The market hushed as the afternoon bled into evening, shadows stretching long and lazy across the dirt. The hawkers had packed their shouts, stalls sagging under the weight of unsold wares, and the air softened¡ªcooler now, tinged with the bite of coming dusk, like the world was exhaling after a hard day. Aaron played the kid, kicking stones with a pack of scruffy brats his age, their laughter sharp and wild, cutting through the quiet. "Oi, Aron, toss me that!" one yelled¡ªa skinny thing with a gap-tooth grin¡ªand he lobbed a bruised apple their way, snagged from Tully''s cart for a grunt and a wink.


    He ran errands too¡ªhauling a sack of grain for the baker with knuckles like walnuts, fetching a spool of thread for Widow Mara, who smoothed every coin flat between her fingers like it was a prayer. A few light coins jingled in his pocket, cold against his thigh, earned from sweat and small favors. Felt good, in a dumb, simple way¡ªbetter than blood money, at least.


    But it was all a dance, a mask. He felt her¡ªher¡ªtrailing him like a shadow stitched too tight. The demoness. He didn''t look back. Didn''t need to. Her presence was a itch under his skin, a hum he couldn''t shake.


    He broke away from the market, boots crunching a path to the lake¡ªa quiet stretch of water, edged with reeds that bent like mourners, where folks didn''t linger. Too still, too lonely. He''d come here before, back when her whispers first hooked him, back when he was stupid enough to listen. He sat at the edge, legs dangling, water lapping at the toes of his boots, dark and glassy, reflecting a sky turning bruise-purple.


    She sat beside him. Just like that¡ªno sound, no warning, like she''d always been there. Her dark hair was bundled under a scarf, strands slipping loose like ink spilling over parchment. Purple eyes glinted, sharp and deep, the kind that could drag a man under and make him thank her for it. Her body¡ªtight in that merchant''s wear, curves pressing against the fabric¡ªscreamed danger wrapped in silk. Aaron''s stomach twisted, bile clawing up his throat like a fist.


    "Oh, hello, child," she purred, voice nimble and soft, a lullaby laced with thorns. She leaned closer, elbow brushing his, and smiled¡ªtoo kind, too smooth, a mask that didn''t fit. "What brings a little one like you out here all alone?"


    He didn''t answer. Didn''t want her words slithering in, curling around his thoughts like they had before. She tilted her head, those eyes wide and gleaming. "You''ve got a spark, don''t you? Something special. Tell me¡ªwhat''s your name?"


    Rage flared, hot and sudden, a coal bursting in his chest. He hated her voice, hated that smile¡ªhated how it''d started everything. Sure, he''d bent to the dark, chose it with his own bloody hands, but she''d been the spark, the shove, the honeyed whisper that made ruin taste sweet. His fingers twitched, ember humming in his veins, spells layered deep in his muscles, his bones¡ªready, waiting.


    "Shut your demon ass up," he snapped right away, voice cracking like a whip. His hand moved¡ªfast, faster than he''d meant¡ªyanking the knife from his belt and hurling it at her neck. A blink, a blur, the blade sang through the air, glinting in the fading light. She jerked back, barely, the edge grazing her scarf, slicing a thread loose. It fluttered down, slow and mocking, landing on the water''s surface like a dead leaf.


    Her smile didn''t falter¡ªwidened, even¡ªlips parting to show teeth too sharp for a human mouth. "Oh, my," she breathed, a laugh threading through it, soft and delighted, like he''d handed her a gift. "Such fire. I knew there was something about you."

 Chapter 7: Broken

    Aaron stared at her, breath hitching like a snag in his throat, the lake lapping at his boots with a rhythm too steady for the storm brewing inside him. The demoness sat there, perched on the edge like she owned it, her human mask fraying at the seams. His ember eyes burned, peeling back the lie¡ªbeneath that smooth skin, she was a nightmare made flesh. Red eyes bled malice, glowing like embers plucked from a slaughter; charcoal skin stretched taut over bones too sharp, too wrong; hair not hair at all but horns, curling wild and black, elegant and hideous in a way that twisted his gut. She was a cathedral of ruin, beautiful in her horror, and he hated her for it.


    ¡°Shit,¡± he rasped, voice cracking like a twig underfoot. He¡¯d let it slip¡ªanger roaring up, hot and blind, when he¡¯d hurled that knife. Dumb move. Sloppy. His chest heaved, air scraping his lungs raw, and he forced it down, slow, deliberate. In. Out. He¡¯d fucked up once, letting rage steer him into the dark. Not again. This time, he¡¯d ride it¡ªuse it¡ªmake it a blade instead of a noose.


    His eyes locked on hers, white hair falling messy over his forehead, and he let the wrath show¡ªlet it blaze, a fire she couldn¡¯t miss. Her smile faltered, just a flicker, lips twitching like she¡¯d tasted something sour. Those bloody eyes narrowed, a ripple of unease crossing her face¡ªsomething primal, deep in her gut, screaming wrong. A sixth sense, maybe, howling at the boy with the innocent face and the ember humming in his veins like a war drum. She shifted, scarf slipping, horns glinting in the dusk, and Aaron saw it: caution. She didn¡¯t know him¡ªnot yet¡ªbut she felt him, and it scared her.


    Good.


    His hand moved¡ªfast, too fast for a kid. The knife at his belt was gone in a blink, flung not with a flick but a snap, like an arrow loosed from a bowstring stretched to breaking. It sang through the air, a silver streak aimed dead at her eye, cutting the dusk with a whistle that made the lake shiver. She twisted¡ªbarely¡ªhead jerking back, the blade grazing her cheek, slicing a thin red line across that charcoal skin. Blood welled, dark and thick, dripping slow, a smear against her elegance. Too close. Too fast.


    She froze, breath hitching, that smile gone now, replaced by a snarl that bared teeth too long, too sharp. ¡°Who are you?¡± she hissed, voice dropping low, soft edges peeling back to reveal the venom beneath. Her hand twitched toward the scratch, fingers brushing it, smearing the blood like war paint. Her eyes¡ªred as slaughter¡ªbored into him, wide and searching, like she could peel his soul open and find the answer stitched inside.


    Aaron didn¡¯t flinch. Didn¡¯t answer. His chest burned, ember flaring hot under his ribs, spells humming in his muscles, his bones¡ªstrength coiled tight, ready to snap.


    The demoness moved now, cautious as a cat on a wire, her playful grin gone, replaced by a snarl that bared too-sharp teeth. She sidestepped, claws flexing, red eyes glinting like spilled blood under the bruise-purple sky. Aaron stood still, boots planted at the lake¡¯s edge, water lapping cold against his heels. His breath steadied¡ªslow, deliberate, a bellows stoking the ember in his veins. He¡¯d lost it once, let anger fling that knife too soon. Not now. Now it was fuel, a storm he¡¯d ride ¡®til it broke her.


    She struck. Fast. Her hand darted to her cheek, smearing the blood from his last throw¡ªdark, thick, dripping like tar. It flowed into the air, twisting, hardening into knives, small and cruel, shaped like his own blade¡ªa mocking echo. ¡°Let¡¯s see how you like it,¡± she hissed, voice silk over venom, and hurled them¡ªsharp, whistling streaks aimed to shred him.


    Aaron moved. Too fast. His foot kicked off the dirt, a blur, a blink, and he was there¡ªright in her face, the blood knives slicing empty air behind him. Ember flared, hot and wild, surging from his nerves, his bones, his muscles¡ªlayering thick over his knuckles like molten iron. His fist snapped forward, a hammer of wrath, and slammed into her stomach. The impact roared, a crack like thunder splitting the dusk, and her body flew¡ªfast, too fast¡ªcrashing into a giant stone by the lake¡¯s edge.


    She hit hard. Too hard. Her form splattered against it, a grotesque painting¡ªcharcoal skin cracking, spine snapping loud enough to echo, hands and legs shattering into jagged shards. Blood sprayed, dark and wet, streaking the stone like ink flung wild. She was stuck, pinned, a ruin of splintered bone and torn flesh, but those red eyes stayed on him¡ªwide, unblinking, glowing through the mess.


    Aaron walked slow, deliberate, boots crunching dirt, breath heaving like a beast let loose. ¡°I know your kind,¡± he said, voice low, rough as gravel, each word a stone dropped into the silence. His fist flickered again¡ªember blazing, knuckles glowing¡ªand he punched, right at her chest. A wet, shattering crack. ¡°Too well,¡± he growled, another blow, sonic, splitting the air. Her body jolted, more blood spilling, pooling at his feet, staining the stone in smears of black and red.


    He didn¡¯t stop. Couldn¡¯t stop actually. ¡°I know you so damn well,¡± he snarled, fist slamming again¡ªbone crunching, flesh tearing¡ªa sonic punch that shook the reeds, sent ripples racing across the lake. ¡°And I also know, how to make you kneel,¡± he spat, another hit, her ribs caving under the ember¡¯s glow. Again. Again. Again. Each blow a thunderclap, each word a vow, his wrath pouring out¡ªhot, blinding, unstoppable. Her pleas¡ªsoft, broken gasps¡ªscoffed over him, ignored, drowned in the rhythm of his fists.


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    Blood coated his hands, slick and warm, dripping from his knuckles to join the mess on the ground¡ªsame as the splatter on the stone, same as the ruin she¡¯d become. He kept going, punching ¡®til there was nothing left¡ªmuscles mashed, bones dust, intestines a twisted smear layered on the rock like some sick artist¡¯s work. A painting of meat and malice, her red eyes dimming, fading, only a deem light left.


    Aaron stepped back, chest heaving, breath ragged, fists trembling as the ember flickered out. The stone loomed, cracked under her weight, its giant bulk teetering like it might fall. Blood pooled at its base, thick and dark, catching the last light like spilled ink. He stared at it, hands dripping, and a laugh broke free¡ªshort, bitter, cutting through the quiet like a snapped string. ¡°Not my best piece of work,¡± he rasped, voice hoarse, ¡°but satisfactory.¡±


    The lake stretched silent behind him, water still now, reflecting the bruised sky and the wreckage he¡¯d made. His knuckles throbbed, ember cooling, leaving just the ache¡ªrage spent, but the weight stayed. Ma¡¯s hum flickered in his mind, soft and off-key, Amelia¡¯s grin flashing bright and stubborn. He¡¯d done it for them, hadn¡¯t he? To keep her claws off this life he¡¯d clawed back.


    But the blood on his hands felt too familiar¡ªtoo much like before, when he¡¯d painted the world red and called it power. He wiped them on his trousers, slow, methodical, like he could scrub it away.


    ¡°lets just wash it at the lake¡± he muttered, like this was the reason he had lured her here. Just to be done with her and clean his hands at the end.


    .


    .


    .


    Aaron woke to sunlight slicing through the cracked window, a rude jab that made him groan like a creaky floorboard. His fists throbbed¡ªnumb, stiff, like he¡¯d spent the night hammering nails with his bare hands. He stretched them, knuckles popping sharp and loud, a crack-crack-crack that could¡¯ve roused a ghost. ¡°Guess I don¡¯t know my own strength,¡± he rasped, voice scraping out rough and dry, a laugh clawing up behind it¡ªshort, bitter, tasting of dust. Yesterday crashed back: those wild punches, the blood-smeared stone, the demoness flattened like a sloppy sketch. A tenth of his strength, maybe¡ªhell, he¡¯d have to squint to call it that. In his prime, he¡¯d split mountains, turned cities to cinders. Now? A kid again, thinking he¡¯d outdone his past with a few desperate swings. ¡°What a damn joke,¡± he muttered, and the laugh broke free, jagged and mean.


    Ma slept on, sprawled across the bed, her snores a soft buzz beneath the morning hush. White hair splayed wild over the pillow, flecks of flour still caught in the strands¡ªshe¡¯d wrestled dough in her dreams and won. Aaron slid off the mattress, floor cold under his feet, and tugged his sheet over her¡ªtoo fast, too rough, it snagged on her elbow, but she didn¡¯t stir. ¡°Sleep, Ma,¡± he whispered, throat tight like he¡¯d swallowed a stone, and slipped out before her hum could pull him back.


    He went back¡ªback to the lake, back to the mess he¡¯d left yesterday. The air hung thick, damp with dew and the sour rot of blood, pressing down like a wet rag. The stone jutted up, cracked and stained, but the demoness wasn¡¯t just a smear anymore. She was stitching herself together¡ªslow, grotesque, a lump of flesh twitching back to life. Charcoal skin pulsed, bones creaked into place, her shape a mangled draft¡ªhorns bent, one eye half-sprouted, guts dangling like wet laundry on a sagging line.


    ¡°Took you long enough,¡± Aaron said, voice flat as the lake behind him. He leaned against a tree, arms crossed, a smirk tugging his lips¡ªcouldn¡¯t help it. She looked ridiculous, this half-dead thing clawing its way back.


    She jolted¡ªshrieked, a high, broken yelp that split the quiet¡ªand those red eyes flared wide, glowing through the muck. ¡°No¡ªno, please!¡± she wailed, dragging her corpse-like body back, limbs scraping dirt, leaving a slick trail of blood and slime. ¡°Forgive me¡ªforgive me, I beg you!¡± Her voice cracked, frantic, piling over itself¡ªagain, again, again¡ªlike a bird trapped in a tin can, wings beating bloody.


    Aaron¡¯s smirk flickered, then set hard. ¡°Relax,¡± he snapped, sharp enough to slice through her noise. He stepped closer, boots crunching reeds, and squatted down, elbows on his knees, close enough to smell the rot. ¡°What the hell are you doing here? This nowhere village? Why me¡ªwhy try luring me?¡±


    She froze, trembling, her half-formed hand clawing at the dirt like it could hold her steady. Pain rippled through her¡ªspine twisted, legs a tangle¡ªbut fear shook her worse, those bloody eyes darting wild. ¡°I¡ªI was ordered,¡± she blurted, words tripping over each other, fast and messy. ¡°The Demon Queen¡ªshe sent me, told me to find you, to pull you towards us¡ª¡±


    Aaron¡¯s breath caught, a cold fist slamming his gut. ¡°Demon Queen?¡± He barked a laugh¡ªshort, harsh, like he¡¯d choked on it. ¡°You¡¯re shitting me.¡± But her eyes didn¡¯t flinch¡ªnot now, wide and spilling truth he didn¡¯t want to see. His head spun, an ember flickering low in his chest, a hum he couldn¡¯t shake. The Queen? That cackling old hag who¡¯d grinned when he¡¯d claimed his throne, who¡¯d watched him torch his world and called it a game? She¡¯d sent this¡ªthis sniveling wreck¡ªto yank him back?


    He stood, slow, fists flexing¡ªstill numb, still sore¡ªand stared down at her. The lake stretched out, water dark and still, catching the bruised sky and his snarl in its glassy face. ¡°Orders, huh?¡± he said, voice low, a growl curling under it. ¡°Guess you picked the wrong kid to screw with.¡±


    She flinched, dragging herself back another inch, guts trailing like a slug¡¯s slime. ¡°Please¡ªI didn¡¯t¡ªI didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡± Her pleas overlapped again, a babbling mess, and Aaron¡¯s smirk crept back, crooked and sharp.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to get your ass splattered on a rock?¡± He snorted, a laugh punching through¡ªbright, absurd, like he¡¯d just heard the punchline of the year. ¡°You¡¯re a masterpiece, you know that? Should¡¯ve stayed dead¡ªsaved me the mop-up.¡±


    The air pressed heavier, thick with damp and the faint whiff of burnt toast¡ªmaybe his own skull frying under the weight of it. His fists twitched, ember simmering, but he held back¡ªnot yet. Ma¡¯s hum lingered in his ears, soft and off-key, Amelia¡¯s grin flashing like a spark. He¡¯d smashed her for them, hadn¡¯t he? To keep this scrappy little life, this nothing village, from crumbling to ash again.


    But the Demon Queen? That was a knife he hadn¡¯t braced for. He rubbed his knuckles¡ªblood still crusted there, a stubborn stain¡ªand glanced at the stone, her mess oozing across it like a painting he couldn¡¯t finish. ¡°Guess I¡¯ve got bigger fish to gut,¡± he muttered, half to her, half to the wind. Her whimpers faded, a thin sob swallowed by the reeds, and he turned away, boots scuffing dirt, leaving her there¡ªbroken, begging, unanswered.

 Chapter 8: Treasure

    Aaron stood there, boots sunk in the lake''s muddy edge, the morning sun clawing through the haze like it was mad at the world. The demoness sprawled before him¡ªhalf-regrown, a pitiful lump of charcoal skin and bent horns, guts still trailing like a busted sack of grain. Her red eyes flickered, dim and wild, locked on him as she whimpered, dragging herself back through the dirt. The Demon Queen''s orders¡ª"find him, pull him back"¡ªrang in his head, a sour note that twisted his gut. His fists clenched tight, knuckles popping, ember humming low and hot¡ªready to hammer her down, finish it, leave her a corpse that wouldn''t crawl back this time.


    "Please¡ªplease, no!" she wailed, voice cracking high and frantic, overlapping itself like a busted wind-up toy. "I''ll serve you¡ªbe your slave¡ªanything!" She scrabbled at the ground, claws digging ruts, her broken body shivering like a kicked dog.


    Aaron froze, fists still balled, breath hitching like he''d swallowed a rock. "What?" he rasped, voice rough as sand scraped over glass. "You¡ªa follower of that hag¡ªwant to grovel for ME? Why the hell would you?"


    Her eyes darted, wide and wet, blood streaking her face like smeared paint. "If I go back empty-handed, she''ll¡ªshe''ll unmake me," she blurted, words tumbling fast, tripping over each other. "The Demon Queen¡ªshe''ll shred my soul, burn it to nothin''. With you¡ªat least I can breathe, I can live, I can do something , anything¡ª" Her voice broke, a sob choking it off, and she slumped, horns scraping dirt.


    Aaron stared, fists loosening slow, the ember''s hum softening like a kettle pulled off the boil. He rubbed his knuckles¡ªstill crusted with her blood, a stubborn stain¡ªand a laugh slipped out, dry and jagged. "You''re shittin'' me," he muttered, half to her, half to the lake stretching dark and still behind them. Serve him? This wreck who''d tried to lure him back to the dark? It was absurd¡ªfunny, even, in a twisted way. But her eyes didn''t lie¡ªnot now, spilling fear and truth like a cracked jar.


    He tilted his head, hand twitching, and twirled a spell¡ªfingers tracing symbols he''d scratched into his own grimoire years back, back when he''d ruled the ashes. A spell she''d know ABSOLUTE SLAVERY branded on the lowest scum of the demon realm, a chain tighter than death. Her eyes widened, recognition flashing through the panic. "No¡ªno, not that!" she cried, voice shrill, clawing back another inch, guts dragging like wet rope.


    "Too late," Aaron said, voice flat, and slammed the spell down¡ªpalm smacking her back, ember flaring bright as it sank in. A sigil burned into her skin, black and jagged, pulsing like a heartbeat she couldn''t shake. She screamed, a thin, broken wail, but it was done¡ªofficial, unbreakable. She was his now, a slave to the kid she''d hunted.


    He stepped back, boots crunching reeds, and smirked¡ªcrooked, mean, couldn''t help it. "Guess you ditched the wrong queen," he said, watching her regeneration slow, her body trembling as the Queen''s protection peeled away like old paint. "No more fancy tricks for you." He crouched, close enough to smell the rot, and her spells¡ªthose silky whispers she''d dangled¡ªflowed into him, snatched like coins from a beggar''s cup. Hers now his.


    "Your job," he said, standing slow, "is to earn as much money as you can. Every damn coin¡ªbring it to me." He turned, glancing back one last time, voice dropping low. "Get to it."


    She crumpled, a mush of pitiful sobs¡ªhorns bent, one eye half-sprouted, body a wreck plastered against the stone. "Please¡ªI¡ª" Her pleas overlapped, a babbling mess, but Aaron was already walking, boots scuffing dirt, the lake''s edge reeking of blood and damp. The air hung heavy, thick with dew and a faint whiff of burnt toast¡ªmaybe his own head frying under the weight of it all.


    The demoness sobbed louder, a thin wail swallowed by the reeds, and Aaron smirked wider, kicking a stone down the path. It skittered, bounced, sank into the mud. "Better start hustlin''," he called over his shoulder, voice carrying on the wind. The lake stretched silent behind him, water catching the bruised sky and her ruin¡ªa painting he''d signed and left to dry.


    At his home, Aaron slumped against the kitchen wall, He flexed them, knuckles cracking sharp enough to jolt the silence, and a laugh rasped out¡ªdry as old bones, bitter as yesterday''s tea. "Guess I''m not the titan I figured," he muttered, voice scraping like boots on gravel. The demoness''s whimpers still rattled in his skull, her broken begs and that jagged spell he''d carved into her back. She was his now, bound to a kid with bruised hands, and it''d be hilarious if it didn''t make him want to puke.


    He needed money. Piles of it. Not for kicks¡ªhe''d scraped by on curses and crusts before¡ªbut for Ma, for Amelia, for the muscle they''d need when the Demon Queen''s shadow swallowed the sun. That storm was brewing, dark and heavy, and he wasn''t fool enough to think he could brawl his way through it solo. Power was the ticket, and power didn''t come cheap. "Could chase old treasures," he mused, scratching his stubble, "dig up stashed pearl pre-regression." But the idea sagged like a wet rag. Too slow, too much grunt work, and Ma''s coughs were getting meaner¡ªhacking fits that shook the walls at night. No time to play scavenger. He needed a fast hit, something dumb and bold.


    "Capitalism," he snorted, "or whatever this world calls it." But he wasn''t about to grind for it¡ªhustle like some wide-eyed beggar? Nah, he was past that. He''d steal it, clean and sharp, from someone who had it coming. Not humans with their pinched faces, not demons with their clawing greed, not even those gold-obsessed goblins. A dragon. A fat, scaly vault of wealth¡ªscales like iron gates, breath that''d turn your sword to slag. He knew one, knew its cave, its hoard glinting like a taunt. Alone, though? Even with his ember and spells, he''d be ash before he touched a coin. He needed Amelia¡ªher fire, her grit, that reckless swing she had.


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    "Oi, ''Melia!" he yelled, shoving out back where she was thwacking a stump with her stick, pigtails whipping like they were mad at the world. "Time to step it up."


    She whirled, eyes flashing like fresh-minted pennies. "''Bout time! Sick of you sulkin''."


    "Sulkin''?" He smirked, all teeth and mischief. "Nah, just cookin'' our next score." He crouched, voice dropping to a conspirator''s hiss. "We''re gonna rob¡­.tackle a dragon soon."


    Her stick hit the dirt with a thunk, jaw dangling like he''d just sprouted horns. "A dragon? You for real?"


    "Dead real," he said, and a laugh burst out¡ªbright, unhinged, like he''d cracked the universe''s best punchline. "Gotta get you sharp, though. Sharper than that twig."


    She grinned, fierce and wide, and grabbed his hand¡ªnails biting in, claiming him like a prize. "Let''s do it, Aron. Let''s make it loud."


    The air hummed, thick with burnt toast and Ma''s wobbly hum trickling from the kitchen¡ªa tune that wove through his ribs and squeezed. He''d haul Amelia into this chaos, into flames and fangs, but he''d forge her tough¡ªtough enough to outlast him. The dragon was step one, a cash grab to stack their odds, and he''d bleed rivers for it if it came to that.


    He mussed her hair, too hard, and she smacked him¡ªsolid, like she meant it. "Cut it, you oaf," she snapped, but her eyes danced, primed for the havoc he''d unleash.


    After that, Days didn''t just pass¡ªthey dragged, heavy and stubborn, piling into weeks, then months. Three of them. Training swallowed everything. Dawn cracked open with Amelia''s fists slicing fog, dusk bled out with Aaron''s grunts echoing off the barn''s warped walls. The backyard wasn''t a yard anymore¡ªit was a war zone, the old barn their coliseum, hay bales splintered, dirt churned to mud under their boots. Sweat hung tight, a second skin, dripping into eyes, stinging, sticking hair to necks. They didn''t stop. Couldn''t.


    Aaron pushed her¡ªrelentless, maybe cruel. "Again," he''d rasp, voice like gravel chewed up and spit out, and she''d charge, fists flashing, breath a jagged rhythm. She wasn''t the kid with the stick anymore. Muscles flexed under freckled skin, her braid a whip snapping the air. She''d grown¡ªGod, had she grown¡ªand he felt it, every dodge, every block, her ember sparking hotter, wilder. He''d catch her at sunrise, shadowboxing alone, her silhouette sharp against the pink sky, and his chest would tighten¡ªpride, sure, but something else too, something that gnawed.


    He wasn''t soft about it. "Too slow, ''Melia," he''d jab, smirking, dodging her swing like it was nothing. She''d glare, wipe her face with a sleeve, and come back swinging¡ªfierce, reckless, like her anger was a tea kettle left too long, whistling and spitting. He''d laugh, duck, tap her ribs just hard enough to make her growl. "Wet cat," he''d say, and she''d elbow him¡ªquick, sharp, a bruise he''d press later, grinning.


    The barn pulsed with them. Sunlight sliced through cracks, dust swirling like it was alive, the air thick with hay and sweat and the faint drift of Ma''s bread from the house¡ªwarm, yeasty, a tether to something softer they''d forgotten. Breaks were sprawls against the wall, flask passed between them, water splashing chins. "You''re a bastard," she''d pant, laughing, and he''d shrug, "Takes one," and the silence would settle, heavy but good.


    Three months in, it shifted. The air buzzed, tight, like a storm rolling in. They circled¡ªboots scuffing, eyes locked. Her braid was unraveling, strands plastered to her neck; his shirt clung, damp, itching. He waited, fists up, watching her tells¡ªthe twitch in her jaw, the spark in her stare. She lunged¡ªfast, fist aimed at his chest. Routine. He slid left, easy, but she twisted, her other arm swinging wide, a haymaker with her whole damn soul behind it.


    Time cracked. Her fist slammed his ribs¡ªa slick, sickening smack¡ªand Aaron flew. Back, back, arms flapping like a drunk bird, boots skidding uselessly. The barn wall caught him¡ªthud¡ªwood creaking, dust avalanching down. He slid, ass hitting dirt, breath gone, ribs screaming. The world held still, just the hum of his pulse and her gasp.


    "Aron¡ªshit, I¡ª" Amelia''s fist hung there, trembling, her eyes saucers, wide and wild.


    He coughed, then laughed¡ªraw, loud, bouncing off the rafters. "Holy hell, ''Melia," he wheezed, hand on his side, "you hit like a damn ox." Pain throbbed, bright and alive, and he loved it.


    She blinked, snorted, grin breaking loose. "You deserved it, smug ass."


    "Fair," he said, hauling up, wincing, still chuckling. He looked at her¡ªreally looked. She stood tall, steady, sweat gleaming like war paint, her ember a flame now, licking the air. Three months had carved her into something¡ªsomeone¡ªwho could knock a former Demon King flat. His ribs ached, his pride swelled, and something clicked, solid as stone.


    "It''s time," he said, voice low, sure, cutting through the dust. "Time for the heist."


    Her grin sharpened, feral, and she punched the air¡ªonce, twice¡ªlike she could already taste the fight ahead. "About damn time," she said, and the barn seemed to lean in, walls humming with it, ready, thinking, it was all part of their training.

 Chapter 9: Risky lies

    Aaron paced the kitchen, boots scraping the floorboards like a confession he couldn''t spit out. Morning light sliced through the window, catching dust motes that twirled, carefree, while his stomach knotted tighter than a hangman''s rope. Ma was at the counter, kneading dough with hands that could snap a branch or soothe a nightmare, humming a tune that wobbled like a drunkard''s stagger. Flour dusted her cheek, a soft smear against the hard lines life had carved. He cleared his throat¡ªgravel in his windpipe¡ªand she turned, eyes pinning him like a moth to a board.


    "Spit it out, Aron," she said, voice warm but worn, a quilt patched too many times.


    He swallowed, mouth dry as ash. "Ma, I gotta talk to you." It came out shaky, a kid''s whimper dressed in a man''s boots, and he cursed himself for it.


    She wiped her hands on her apron, slow, like she was stalling a verdict, and faced him fully, arms crossed¡ªa wall of love and doubt. "What''s gnawin'' at you?"


    He sucked in air, let it leak out slow, deflating. "There''s this merchant¡ªcame by a few days back. He''s lookin'' for helpers, wants me to go to the city. Saw me and ''Melia sparrin'', said we''re strong, could use us."


    Ma''s frown cut deeper, a trench of worry. "A merchant? Doin'' what?"


    "Tradin'' rare stuff¡ªspices, silks, that kinda thing. Needs guards for the road." The lie stuck to his tongue, bitter as burnt coffee, and he shifted, boots squeaking on the floor. "It''s a chance, Ma. Coin in my pocket, a bit of the world in my eyes. I could learn somethin'' useful."


    She shook her head, flour drifting like a ghost''s sigh. "No, Aron. Too dangerous. You''re young, and I need you here. Who''s gonna split the wood? Keep ''Melia from breakin'' her fool neck?"


    "''Melia''s fine on her own," he said, too fast, and her eyes sharpened, hawk-like.


    "She''s a child, same as you."


    "I ain''t a child, Ma," he shot back, then bit his lip, guilt a splinter under his nail. "I mean¡ªI''ve trained, I''m stronger now. I can handle this."


    She stepped closer, hand rising to his cheek, thumb tracing a scar he''d earned dodging Amelia''s wild swings. "I know you''re strong, Aron. Watched you two knock each other senseless out back. But the world ain''t a game. It''s bandits, beasts¡ªthings that don''t care how quick you dodge."


    His chest ached, her love a chain he couldn''t break. "I know, Ma. But I need this¡ªfor us, for what''s comin''. I''ll be careful, I swear it."


    She studied him, eyes like wells swallowing light. "I wanna meet this merchant. If he''s real, if he can swear you''ll come back whole, maybe I''ll think on it."


    Relief hit him like a breaker, too big to hold. "Thank you, Ma. I''ll bring her tomorrow."


    He turned to go, but her voice snagged him, soft and sharp as a thorn. "Don''t lie to me, Aron. Not ever."


    He froze, heart a drumbeat, but nodded, slipping out before the truth clawed its way up.


    Next day, she came¡ªthe demoness, wrapped in human skin too flawless to trust. Lady Seraphina, she called herself, a vision in silk and shadow, her suit and pants clinging tight, curves plump and dangerous as a loaded crossbow. She strode through the village, and heads turned¡ªold men gawking, kids whispering, a ripple of want and wonder trailing her like smoke. Aaron met her at the door, gut churning. "You''re a merchant, here to hire me," he hissed. "Make it good."


    She smiled, all teeth and secrets. "As you command, master."


    Inside, Ma stood, arms crossed, eyes flint-hard. The demoness swept in, hand outstretched. "A pleasure, ma''am. Your son sings your praises."


    Ma shook it, grip testing, wary. "You''re the one takin'' my boy to the city?"


    "Indeed," the demoness purred, voice sliding like honey over a blade. "I trade in rare goods¡ªexotics that draw thieves. Your son and his friend Amelia have the mettle I need."


    Ma''s gaze darted to Aaron, then back. "What''ll they do? Fight off cutthroats? Haul your baubles?"


    "Among other things," she said, smooth as a river stone. "They''ll guard, learn the trade, see the world beyond these hills. A rare chance to grow."


    Ma''s jaw clenched. "And you''ll keep ''em safe?"


    The demoness leaned in, just enough, her scent¡ªjasmine and ash¡ªcurling through the air. "Their safety''s my vow, ma''am. I''ve protections, tricks of my own. They''ll not face harm I can''t fend off."


    Ma softened, the demoness''s charm a tide eroding her walls. But then¡ªoutside¡ªa clamor. Voices pitched high, feet scuffling. Aaron peeked out: villagers crowding, mostly lads, drawn by Seraphina''s glow like moths to a lantern.


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    "Damn it," he muttered, stepping outside.


    Tom, thick as an ox and twice as dumb, grinned greasy. "What''s a dame like that doin'' with you, Aron? You her errand boy?"


    Aaron''s ember sparked, heat in his veins. "Back off, Tom."


    Tom shoved him, a lazy jab. "Or what? You''ll tattle?"


    Before Aaron could swing, Amelia was there, eyes wildfire-bright. "Leave him," she snarled, fists balled.


    Tom leered. "Oh, ''Melia''s playin'' too?"


    Her punch cracked like thunder, catching Tom''s jaw, dropping him into the dirt like a sack of meal. Gasps, laughs¡ªa few lads scattered.


    Aaron grabbed her arm. "Enough, ''Melia. Not now."


    She yanked free, glaring as Tom staggered up, clutching his face. "Next time, I''ll crack your skull," she spat.


    Inside, Ma watched through the glass, face a storm¡ªpride warring with fear. The demoness smiled, sly as a fox. "See, ma''am? They''re ready for anything."


    Ma sighed, a sound like wind through bare branches. "Alright, Aron. You can go. But you write me¡ªevery day¡ªand if it turns sour, you''re back here. Swear it."


    He nodded, throat knotted. "I swear, Ma."


    She hauled him into a hug, fierce, like she could weld him to her bones, and he clung back, breathing in flour and salt and home, guilt a stone in his gut.


    The demoness slipped out, winking as she went, and Aaron felt it settle¡ªtriumph, shame, a love too heavy to carry. One hurdle down, one left: Amelia''s pa, a bull of a man with a heart locked tight. But with ''Melia''s knuckles and the demoness''s silver tongue, they''d pry it open.


    Outside, the village hummed, whispers chasing Seraphina''s shadow, but Aaron stayed put, staring at Ma''s back as she turned to her dough. He had a dragon to rob, a lie to live, and a ma to shield¡ªeven if it broke him. She waved him off, floury hand smudging the air, like she was wiping him from her sight, and it stuck in his ribs, sharp and quiet.


    The air hung thick as molasses, heavy with the tang of burnt toast drifting from the house. Aaron stood by the fence, boots kicking up dust, the afternoon sun slumping low like it was done pretending to care. Amelia''s pa loomed across from him, a wall of a man¡ªshoulders wide as a barn door, hands rough with scars from timber and time, eyes glinting like he''d caught a scent on the wind. Nearby, Lady Seraphina¡ªthe demoness¡ªleaned against a post. She''d already spun her web, words dripping honey about gold and glory, and Aaron had braced himself for the old man to snarl, to shove her out the gate. Instead, he''d grinned¡ªtoo wide, too hungry¡ªhis gaze raking over her like he could peel the silk off with his eyes.


    "City''s a fine spot for ''Melia," he rumbled, voice like gravel under a wheel. "She''s restless¡ªneeds to stretch them legs. Good chance, this." He nodded at Seraphina, still grinning, like a dog eyeing a bone.


    Aaron''s jaw hung slack for half a beat, words caught in his throat like a cough he couldn''t shake. He''d expected fists, a roar, maybe a lecture about strangers and lies. Not this¡ªnot Amelia''s pa practically packing her bags, sending her off with a wave and a leer. "Uh, yeah," he managed, rubbing his neck, the ember in his chest flickering low, sour. "She''ll¡­ she''ll do good there."


    The man clapped Aaron''s shoulder, a thump that jolted his spine. "You too, Aron. Steady lad, you are. Keep her safe, yeah? Outta trouble."


    Aaron nodded, lips twitching into something like a smile, but those hawk-eyes narrowed, cutting through him like they could see the demon king crouched in his shadow. "C''mere," he said, jerking his chin toward the barn. "Away from her."


    They trudged over, boots crunching dirt, the wind tugging at Aaron''s hair like it wanted a fight. Inside, the barn swallowed the light¡ªdust danced in thin sunbeams, hay prickled the air, and that burnt-toast smell clung like a ghost. Amelia''s pa leaned against a beam, arms crossed, his grin gone, replaced by something heavy, worn smooth by years. He rubbed a scar on his knuckle, a jagged little story, and fixed Aaron with a look that pinned him to the earth.


    "Listen, Aron," he said, low, like he was letting out a breath he''d held too long. "I know ''Melia ain''t like most. Never was. Stronger''n me, stronger''n you, maybe. Different¡ªlike she''s got a fire no one can douse." His voice cracked, just a hair, and he smoothed the scar again, a tic Aaron hadn''t clocked before. "But she''s my girl, y''hear?"


    Aaron swallowed, throat tight as a noose. "I know, sir. She''s¡­ she''s special."


    A snort broke the quiet, rough and sharp. "Special''s too small a word. She''s a damn tempest, always has been¡ªcracked her first tooth and grinned like she''d won a war. But you¡ª" He stepped closer, close enough Aaron could smell the sweat and woodsmoke on him, "you''re somethin'' else too. Thought you were just a kid with big dreams, scrappy, ambitious. Normal, like I was." His eyes glinted, peeling Aaron apart. "But you ain''t, are you?"


    Panic spiked, quick and cold¡ªAaron''s hands twitched, the ember flaring hot under his ribs. Did he know? The regression, the crown, the blood that wouldn''t wash off? "I¡­. don''t¡ª"


    "Don''t bullshit me," the man cut in, soft but steel-edged. "I''ve watched you two¡ªsparrin'' in the yard, movin'' like you''ve dodged more''n fists. You''ve got a shadow on you, Aron, and it ain''t small."


    Silence dropped, thick as the dust around them. Aaron''s pulse hammered, but the old man just clapped his shoulder again, hard enough to bruise, a father''s weight. "Take care of her, yeah? Like she''s yours. Like a wife, even." He chuckled, a jagged, barking sound that didn''t match his eyes. "Jokin''. Mostly. She trusts you¡ªGod knows why¡ªand that''s more''n I can ask."


    Aaron forced a laugh, but it lodged in his chest, a splinter he couldn''t dig out. "I''ll keep her safe, sir. Promise."


    The man nodded, slow, like he was measuring Aaron''s bones. "Good. ''Cause I''ll track you down if you don''t¡­.HAHAHAHA!!" He laughed, turning away, boots scuffing hay. "She talks in her sleep, y''know. Mumbles about dragons and thieves. Mouth like a busted dam."


    He was halfway to the door when he tossed back, "Tell her goodbye for me. And Aron¡ªdon''t let her break too many faces."


    The barn door creaked shut, leaving Aaron in the half-dark, dust settling like a sigh. His chest ached¡ªnot the ember, not this time, but a deeper bruise, a promise he hadn''t signed up for but couldn''t dodge. Amelia was the hero¡ªthe one who''d toppled him when the world couldn''t¡ªand now he was her keeper? It was a punchline, bitter and absurd, but her pa''s words stuck, heavy as a blade.


    Outside, the wind kicked up, carrying Ma''s hum from the house, a tune that wove through his ribs and squeezed. He''d lied to her, danced with a demoness, and now he was hauling Amelia toward a dragon''s jaws, all for a hoard that might not fix a damn thing. But then he saw her¡ªpigtails whipping wild, fists cocked, grin sharp enough to draw blood¡ªand the ache twisted into something else, something warm and reckless. she''d follow her into the fire, laugh through the burns, because that''s what you do when life''s this jagged and alive.

 Chapter 10: Trip

    The carriage hit a rut, and the jolt shot up her spine like a kick from the past she couldn¡¯t outrun. Lady Seraphina¡ªonce a name that made demons kneel¡ªsat ramrod straight, wedged between crates of junk she¡¯d bartered from the villagers. Pots clanked, a sack of flour slumped against her thigh, and the air hung thick with leather, sweat, and that damn burnt-toast smell that wouldn¡¯t let her go. Across from her, Aaron sprawled, boots propped on a box, laughing too loud at something Amelia tossed his way. His voice rumbled, careless as a kid who didn¡¯t know he held a leash. Amelia leaned into him, pigtails swinging, her grin sharp enough to cut glass. They talked and talked¡ªendless, chattering nonsense about dragons and coin and some farmer¡¯s ugly cow¡ªwhile the countryside blurred past, green and gold and indifferent.


    Her back itched where the slave mark burned into her skin, a raw, nagging ache she couldn¡¯t scratch away. Better than the alternative, though¡ªher soul shredded by the Demon Queen, scattered to ash, never to claw its way back. She¡¯d seen that spell before, whispered in the shadowed halls of demon nobility: advanced slave magic, a chain forged from desperation and high blood. Her fingers twitched, chasing the ghost of her own power¡ªblood magic that once curled from her like smoke, bending wills, breaking spines. She¡¯d ruled her fiefdom with it, a toxic symphony of lust and control, her throne a bed of silk and secrets. Now? A slave to a boy with dirt under his nails and ember eyes that didn¡¯t match his age.


    She stared at him, trying to piece it together. White hair messy as a storm, a smirk tugging at his mouth¡ªhe was no ordinary kid. The Demon Queen¡¯s shadow loomed over him, dark and heavy, and she¡¯d sent HER to reel him in. But why? What made this scrappy human worth a noble¡¯s fall? Her thoughts drifted, languid and bitter, her pride a shattered mirror¡ªeach shard glinting with a life she¡¯d lost. The carriage jolted again, and the burnt-toast smell wafted stronger, a tether to the mundane she¡¯d never have again.


    Whack!!


    A slap cracked across the back of her head, sharp and sudden, pain blooming hot and bright. Her demon eyes bulged¡ªgrotesque, absurd, like they might roll out of her skull¡ªand she whipped around, fury rising like a tea kettle left too long. Aaron leaned back, smirking, hand still hovering like he might do it again.


    ¡°How much money you got?¡±


    She blinked, the words hitting like a second blow. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Money,¡± he said, slow and deliberate, like she was some village dullard. ¡°How much? We¡¯re gonna need it.¡±


    Amelia snorted, a quick, muffled laugh behind her hand, and Seraphina¡¯s cheeks burned¡ªrage, humiliation, a sting she hadn¡¯t felt in centuries. ¡°Enough, Master,¡± she spat, the title sour as bile, her voice clipped tight.


    Amelia¡¯s jaw locked tight, a fist around a grudge. Master. That word still burned in her ears, slithering out of Seraphina¡¯s mouth¡ªsmooth as oil, hot as sin. It twisted her guts, made her want to kick the demoness out the door and watch her roll down the hill. She¡¯d fought Aaron tooth and nail to keep this trip just them¡ªtwo kids against the world, like always¡ªbut their coin purse was flatter than a day-old beer, and now this woman was here, breasts spilling out of that dress like they owned the place, her laugh a low hum that scraped Amelia¡¯s nerves raw.


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    She glanced down at herself¡ªchest flat as a plank, nothing to write home about¡ªand her scowl deepened, a tea kettle left too long on the flame. Without thinking, she slid closer to Aaron, thigh pressing against his, close enough to feel his heat through her patched-up trousers. He didn¡¯t budge, just kept yammering about the dragon¡¯s den, the week it¡¯d take, the three cities they¡¯d rattle through. ¡°Gotta meet someone in the first one,¡± he said, scratching the stubble shadowing his jaw. ¡°Someone who¡¯s got my back.¡±


    Her head snapped up, jealousy spiking like a splinter under a nail. ¡°Who?¡± she barked, sharper than she meant.


    He shrugged, all loose and easy, like it didn¡¯t matter. ¡°Old friend. From before¡­ y¡¯know, everything.¡± His hand flapped, brushing off a past too heavy to hold.


    ¡°Before what?¡± She leaned in, voice low, pressing like she could squeeze the truth out.


    He grinned¡ªtoo bright, too dumb¡ªand ruffled her hair, fingers rough against her scalp. ¡°You¡¯ll see, spitfire. Chill out.¡±


    She smacked his hand away, heat crawling up her neck, and slumped back, arms crossed tight as a locked gate. Seraphina¡¯s chuckle cracked the air¡ªsharp, like glass under a boot¡ªand Amelia¡¯s glare could¡¯ve lit a match. ¡°What¡¯s so damn funny?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, little one,¡± the demoness purred, smile all teeth and taunt. ¡°Just admiring the scenery.¡±


    Aaron snorted, clueless as a brick, and Amelia¡¯s fingers twitched, itching to slug that smug face. Instead, she grabbed his arm, yanked him closer¡ªnails digging in, a quiet claim. He blinked down at her, brow creasing. ¡°Oi, ¡®Melia, you good?¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± she snapped, too fast, and let go, cheeks blazing. ¡°Just¡ªshut up.¡±


    He laughed¡ªa big, baffled burst¡ªand tousled her hair again. ¡°¡­.Weird.¡±


    The demoness¡¯s eyes glinted, catching the flicker of something raw. ¡°Young love,¡± she murmured, soft as a shadow, and turned to the window, her own thoughts coiling like smoke. That slave mark itched, a dull buzz under her skin, but she¡¯d take it¡ªhell, she¡¯d take worse¡ªto see where this kid¡¯s road ended. He was a riddle with a pulse, and she was in too deep to climb out.


    The carriage rattled on, the air heavy with burnt toast¡ªa stubborn whiff of home, baked into their clothes, their skin. A week to the dragon¡¯s den, three cities to cross, and Aaron¡¯s mind was already half-gone, snagged on the first stop. Someone waited there¡ªsomeone who¡¯d shadowed him in his past life, back when he wore a crown of ash as the Demon King. A loyal blade, a hand steady at his back when the world caved in. He didn¡¯t say their name¡ªcouldn¡¯t, not yet¡ªbut the memory sat in his chest, a stone he couldn¡¯t cough up, guilt and gratitude knotted tight.


    Amelia shifted, her head dipping close to his shoulder, and he frowned, thrown. ¡°You sleepy or what?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she bit out, jerking upright, face aflame. ¡°Forget it.¡±


    He laughed again, softer this time, and the sound hung there, warm and dumb and hers. Outside, the fields rolled on, the sky bruising purple, the road stretching toward a city where the past crouched, waiting like a dog by the door.


    They stopped in a speck of a town that night, horses panting, air cool and sharp. The inn was a squat thing, sign creaking¡ª¡°The Rusty Tankard¡±¡ªand inside, it smelled of stale ale and sweat. Seraphina drew eyes like flies to spilled sugar, her beauty a flare in the dim, and Amelia hated it. Hated the whispers, the stares, the way the demoness leaned into it, smile curling like she¡¯d won something.


    By the fire, Amelia cornered her, arms crossed, voice a hiss. ¡°Why do you do that?¡±


    Seraphina looked up from a book¡ªsome leather-bound thing that smelled of dust¡ªher eyes catching the flames. ¡°Do what?¡±


    ¡°That. Acting like you¡¯re above us all.¡±


    The demoness laughed, a sound like coins clinking. ¡°Because I am child, I actually¡­.am.¡±


    Amelia¡¯s scowl deepened. ¡°You¡¯re not better. Just¡­ different.¡±


    Seraphina¡¯s smile softened, just a hair. ¡°Maybe. But I¡¯ve seen centu¡­.ahem¡­¡ªkings fall, lovers rot. It shifts you.¡±


    Amelia dropped beside her, curiosity tugging despite the bile. ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡±


    ¡°Means I¡¯ve watched love break more than it builds,¡± Seraphina said, voice low, like she was handing over a secret. ¡°It¡¯s a pretty knife¡ªcuts deep.¡±


    Amelia¡¯s breath hitched, cheeks hot. ¡°I don¡¯t¡ªwhatever.¡±


    The demoness smirked, but it didn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°Sure, little one.¡±

 Chapter 11: Guild

    The carriage creaked to a stop, wheels groaning like they¡¯d had enough of this damn road. Aaron leaned out, elbows braced on the frame, the wind snagging his white hair and tossing it wild. There it was¡ªfinally¡ªafter days of rattling past villages that blurred into mud and thatch, towns too small to hold a secret. The city shimmered on the horizon, a beast of stone and sea, its tall walls clawing up from the coastline like they could wrestle the tides. Ships bobbed at its edge, sails snapping, crates swinging¡ªimports, exports, the heartbeat of a place that didn¡¯t sleep. A castle perched to the side, humble in footprint but stretching high, its spires stabbing the bruised sky, a marvel of magecraft that only genius could dream up. Not some gaudy sprawl, no¡ªthis was strategy, sharp and lean, built by hands that knew magic could bend steel and lift dreams.


    He couldn¡¯t help it¡ªa grin cracked his face, crooked and real. ¡°Look at that,¡± he muttered, half to himself, half to the wind. ¡°Still standing tall, you bastard.¡±


    Amelia poked her head out beside him, pigtails whipping like they were mad at the world. ¡°What¡¯s so special?¡± she asked, squinting, voice sharp with that edge she got when she smelled a story he wasn¡¯t telling.


    ¡°Everything,¡± he said, and it wasn¡¯t a lie. This city¡ªKaelthara, they called it now¡ªwas a jewel he¡¯d never cracked. Before the regression, when he¡¯d worn the Demon King¡¯s crown, he¡¯d thrown armies at those walls, spells that could melt stone, curses that turned rivers black. Nothing stuck. The mages here¡ªthose lunatic engineers¡ªhad woven magic into every brick, every beam, pushing it past war chants and into something new: gears that hummed, lights that pulsed, a guild of magic tech that was laughed at back then. He¡¯d laughed too, until their contraptions shredded his vanguard and sent him limping off with a bloody nose. Now? The new lord had seen the spark, poured gold into their mad tinkering, and the city thrummed with it¡ªrich, alive, untouchable.


    ¡°Never took it,¡± he said, quieter now, the words slipping out like a confession he hadn¡¯t meant to make. His fingers flexed, ember flickering low in his chest, a memory of ash and failure.


    Amelia¡¯s eyes narrowed, glinting like coins in the sun. ¡°Took it? What¡¯re you on about?¡±


    He waved her off, grin fading to a smirk. ¡°Nothin¡¯. Old tales. C¡¯mon, let¡¯s roll.¡±


    Inside, the carriage rattled back to life, pots clanking, Seraphina muttering something sharp under her breath as a sack slid into her lap. She shoved it off, silk rustling, her glare a blade aimed at no one in particular. Amelia slumped back beside Aaron, closer than she needed to be, her shoulder brushing his like a claim she wouldn¡¯t name. The burnt-toast smell clung to the air, stubborn as Ma¡¯s hum, a tether to a home they¡¯d left behind.


    Aaron¡¯s mind wasn¡¯t on them, though¡ªnot really. It was on *her*. The woman who¡¯d stopped him every damn time¡ªElyra, her name was then, a mage with ink-stained hands and a laugh that cut deeper than her spells. She¡¯d stood on those walls, hair whipping in the wind, hurling gadgets and glyphs that turned his siege into a scrap heap. He¡¯d hated her¡ªGod, how he¡¯d hated her¡ªbut there¡¯d been a night, late in the war, when they¡¯d met under a truce flag. She¡¯d poured him wine, smirked over the rim, and asked why he kept coming back to lose. He¡¯d laughed¡ªfirst time in months¡ªand left her city alone after that, a friend carved out of a foe. Dead now, he¡¯d thought, until the regression spun him back. Was she here? Same soul, different skin? He needed to know¡ªneeded her steel at his side for what was coming.


    The city grew closer, walls looming like a dare, the castle¡¯s spires glinting sharp. The carriage hit the cobbled outskirts, jolting them hard, and Seraphina swore¡ªlow, venomous, her hand rubbing that slave mark like she could claw it off. Amelia snorted, a quick, mean laugh, and Aaron¡¯s head tilted, catching the tension but not the why.


    ¡°Problem?¡± he asked, voice rough, eyes still on the city.


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    ¡°Always,¡± Seraphina shot back, clipped and cold, her demon eyes glinting like she¡¯d love to set something on fire.


    ¡°Keep it together,¡± he said, not looking at her. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±


    The gates loomed¡ªiron and rune-etched, buzzing with faint magic¡ªand the guards waved them through, barely glancing at the junk-laden carriage. Inside, Kaelthara roared to life: streets clogged with carts, voices shouting over the clang of hammers, steam hissing from pipes snaking up buildings. A kid darted past, clutching a glowing orb that whirred¡ªsome mage-tech toy¡ªand Aaron¡¯s grin crept back. This place was alive, a beast of progress he¡¯d never tamed, and it thrilled him, sharp and electric.


    He leaned back, boots scuffing the floor, and murmured, ¡°Elyra¡¯d love this.¡± It slipped out¡ªsoft, unguarded¡ªand Amelia¡¯s head snapped around, fast as a whip.


    ¡°Who¡¯s Elyra?¡± she demanded, voice a blade, jealousy flickering like a spark in dry grass.


    He froze, caught, then laughed¡ªa jagged, deflecting bark. ¡°Just a name, ¡®Melia. Old ghost.¡±


    Her eyes didn¡¯t budge, boring into him, but he turned away, staring out as the city swallowed them whole. The castle loomed ahead, a quiet giant watching the chaos, and somewhere in this tangle of stone and steam, she was waiting¡ªhis match, his mirror, the one who¡¯d stopped him when no one else could. He¡¯d find her, or her echo, and drag her into this fight¡ªdragon, queen, whatever came. The past was here, breathing, and it wasn¡¯t letting him go.


    The city¡¯s hum hit like a fist¡ªsharp, relentless¡ªrattling through the cobblestones as Seraphina stumbled, boots catching on the edge of a rune-etched gate. A vibration clawed up her spine, a spell woven into the walls, buzzing like a swarm of pissed-off hornets. It hated her¡ªknew her kind, monsters and worse¡ªand dug into her skull, sharp and cold. Her nose burned, a wet trickle spilling out, blood dripping onto her silk glove, staining it dark. She hissed, swiping it fast, a weaker demon would¡¯ve been ash by now¡ªskull split, soul gone¡ªbut she wasn¡¯t weak. Just bleeding.


    ¡°Move it,¡± Aaron growled, not looking, his voice a rough shove as he strode ahead.


    She glared, demon eyes flashing, but lurched forward, blood crusting her lip. At the gate, she thrust out her merchant card¡ªhand steady, smile a thin lie. ¡°Lady Seraphina, trader. These¡¯re my helpers.¡± She flicked a nod at Aaron and Amelia, pressed tight, her arm brushing his like she¡¯d fight the air to keep him close.


    The guard squinted, shrugged, waved them through¡ªtoo busy eyeing a cart of fish to care. Kaelthara swallowed them whole¡ªstreets thick with shouts, steam hissing from pipes snaking up walls, a kid darting past with a glowing orb that whined like a trapped wind. Seraphina¡¯s head pounded, the spell¡¯s hum sinking claws deeper, and she turned to Aaron, voice low, edged with grit. ¡°This friend you¡¯re chasing¡ªI hope she¡¯s not engineering guild. Vibrations hit worse there, guild house and palace. Could shred me.¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer¡ªjust patted her head, quick and rough, like she¡¯d fetched a bone. ¡°Good work,¡± he said, flat, done. ¡°No more needed. Earn.¡± He shoved a crumpled list into her hand¡ªether dust, rune coils, spark gears¡ªand her eyes bulged, popping like they¡¯d bolt. Prices that¡¯d gut her purse and leave it gasping.


    ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± she rasped, fingers trembling around the paper.


    ¡°Get it,¡± he said, smirk sharp, then grabbed Amelia¡¯s wrist¡ªgentle, sure¡ªand pulled her forward, leaving Seraphina in the dust, blood drying, pride a cracked cup spilling over.


    Amelia shot a glance back¡ªhalf smug, half fire¡ªand pressed closer to Aaron, her heat a quiet claim. ¡°She¡¯s gonna snap,¡± she muttered, loud enough to sting.


    ¡°Let her,¡± Aaron said, shrugging, eyes cutting through the chaos¡ªhammers banging, voices overlapping, the burnt-toast smell clinging like Ma¡¯s shadow. His mind wasn¡¯t on them. It was on this. Kaelthara. A city he¡¯d never broken, not with armies, not with the Demon King¡¯s wrath. Back then, he¡¯d needed papers¡ªproof he wasn¡¯t a ghost with a blade. Adventuring guild would¡¯ve been easy¡ªquick name, quick coin. But no. He¡¯d bled Seraphina¡¯s stash half-dry, and he wasn¡¯t here to scrape.


    He veered sharp, boots slicing a path, Amelia trailing tight, her fingers brushing his arm like she¡¯d anchor him. Merchant guild glittered left¡ªsilk and gold, soft promises¡ªengineering guild buzzed right, spitting sparks and heat. He ignored them. Ahead loomed a tower¡ªblack stone, jagged as a snapped rib, no banners, just weight. The Slayer Guild. Pinnacle of the pinnacle¡ªwhere nobles groveled, royals whispered, and one in a million walked out whole. God¡¯s avatars, they called them, half-prayer, half-dread. He wasn¡¯t here to kneel.


    Amelia¡¯s breath caught, sharp as a snapped twig. ¡°Aron, you can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Can,¡± he cut in, grin wild, ember flaring hot in his chest.


    She grabbed his sleeve, nails digging¡ªfear now, raw and real. ¡°That place kills. You won¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Watch me,¡± he said, shaking her off, gentle but firm, and strode on.

 Chapter 12: Elyra

    The Slayer Guild¡¯s tower didn¡¯t stand¡ªit loomed, a beast hunched against the sky, its cold stone walls slick with damp that gleamed like tears in the torchlight. Shadows coiled along the edges, twisting like they¡¯d grown teeth overnight, hungry for something soft to chew. The silence was a fist¡ªunyielding, heavy¡ªpressing on Aaron¡¯s chest until his ribs ached, each breath a quiet rebellion. He stood there, boots scuffing the uneven floor, kicking up dust that danced in the flickering glow like ghosts too stubborn to fade. Amelia hovered behind him¡ªtoo damn close¡ªher breath jagged and quick, slicing the stillness, her fists balled tight like she¡¯d slug the dark if it blinked wrong. Her pigtails brushed his shoulder, a graze he felt down to his bones, a tether he hadn¡¯t asked for but couldn¡¯t cut.


    A figure emerged from the gloom¡ªa woman draped in a dress white as fresh snow, the kind that blinds you after months of gray muck. She moved like she owned the air, each step a claim, her gaze slicing through him¡ªcold, sharp, a butcher¡¯s knife sizing up a lamb. She stopped, arms folded, chin tilted just enough to say you¡¯re beneath me, and her voice came smooth as ice over a blade, dripping with disdain that stung like nettles. ¡°What makes you worthy?¡± she asked, every syllable a jab, peeling him bare¡ªan arrogant village boy, dirt under his nails, stinking of hay and bravado, daring to tread where heroes and demigods carved their names in blood and ash.


    Aaron didn¡¯t flinch. Didn¡¯t speak. Just grinned¡ªcrooked, reckless, a spark igniting the ember in his chest, flaring hot like a coal tossed on dry straw. His hand moved¡ªquick, sure, a flick of muscle and will¡ªand the air shivered. A grimoire flickered into being, leather-bound, edges frayed like an old promise, his name scrawled across the front in jagged ink: Aaron. It hung there, solid as stone, a middle finger to the quiet. The clerk¡¯s gasp cracked the stillness¡ªa raw, choked sound, like she¡¯d swallowed a bone¡ªher eyes popping wide, grotesque, like they might roll out and bounce. ¡°A child prodigy,¡± she whispered, voice trembling, stumbling over the words as if they¡¯d tripped her on the way out. She bolted¡ªsnow-white hem flapping like a wounded dove¡ªoff to fetch someone, anyone, to judge this scrappy freak who¡¯d just kicked the world off its hinges.


    Amelia¡¯s glare seared into his side, hotter than a branding iron, subtext screaming what the hell are you playing at. Her fingers twitched¡ªitching to grab him, shake him, throttle him maybe¡ªbut he just shrugged, loose and easy, like he hadn¡¯t turned the room into a powder keg. ¡°Easy, ¡®Melia,¡± he muttered, voice rough as a barn floor, barely glancing her way. She didn¡¯t ease¡ªher jaw clamped tight, a tea kettle left too long, steam hissing silent, and the air between them thickened, heavy with questions she¡¯d choke on before asking.


    Footsteps echoed¡ªfast, uneven¡ªand the clerk dragged back a woman who didn¡¯t walk so much as arrive. Tall, 24, glasses perched on a nose sharp as a hawk¡¯s beak, silky dark hair spilling over a figure plump and defiant, her presence a weight that bent the room around her. Elyra. Aaron¡¯s breath snagged, a splinter in his throat he couldn¡¯t swallow. She was here¡ªthe prodigy who¡¯d spun Kaelthara¡¯s magic into a wall he couldn¡¯t breach, who¡¯d stood on those ramparts and laughed¡ªlaughed!¡ªas his armies broke like waves on rock. Her eyes landed on the grimoire, then flicked to him, sour as milk left in the sun, her mood a storm rolling in fast and ugly.


    ¡°This?¡± she snapped, voice a whip cracking at the clerk, glasses slipping a fraction down her nose. ¡°You drag me out for some petty boy who can summon a damn book?¡± She stepped closer, looming, her glare a blade aimed square at his chest. ¡°Sure, it¡¯s cute¡ªprodigy, whatever¡ªbut this guild ain¡¯t a sandbox for tricks, kid. It¡¯s for world-breakers. You¡¯re not it.¡± Her words bit, each one a splinter under the nail, and the clerk flinched, shrinking back like a scolded pup.


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    Aaron¡¯s grin stretched¡ªtoo wide, too knowing, splitting his face like a crack in frozen earth. ¡°Elyra,¡± he said, soft and warm, like they¡¯d shared a bottle over a dying fire, like he could still taste that truce-night wine¡ªbitter, sharp, her smirk over the rim burning hotter than the drink. Her eyes narrowed¡ªshock, suspicion, a flicker of something old and buried¡ªbut before she could spit back, he turned, casual as a kid pointing out a stray cat, and gestured to the window. Outside, through glass warped and streaked, Seraphina staggered down the street¡ªnose bleeding again, a red smear on her silk glove, scratching her hair like she¡¯d claw her scalp off. She hauled a sack of engineering gear¡ªoverpriced junk he¡¯d saddled her with¡ªcursing under her breath, a litany of venom that carried even through the stone.


    ¡°That¡¯s mine,¡± he said, voice dropping low, a raw truth slipping out like a knife from its sheath, quiet but deadly. ¡°A demon¡ªhigh blood, enslaved.¡± He paused, letting it sink, then added, softer, ¡°I ENSLAVED her.¡±


    Elyra loomed ahead, staff humming low, a faint blue glow licking at its tip. ¡°Such bold words,¡± she said, voice smooth as oil but sharp enough to cut. ¡°Calling her a demon¡ªa high-ranking one¡ªand your slave.¡± She leaned closer, staff sparking once, a warning. ¡°If any other fool spouted that, I¡¯d call them mad. Drag them out by their ears.¡± Her gaze flicked to the grimoire in his hand, its leather worn, its edges curling like it¡¯d seen too much. ¡°But you¡­ you¡¯re not just any fool, are you?¡±


    Elyra¡¯s breath caught¡ªjust a hitch, a gasp she swallowed fast¡ªbut her eyes betrayed her, wide and wild for a heartbeat before she slammed the mask back down. She¡¯d cranked the city¡¯s spell higher, testing, watching that demoness bleed under its weight. A creature who could breach her gates, resist her magic¡ªthat was no small thing. Dangerous. Extremely dangerous.


    Watching her falter a bit, Aaron stepped forward. ¡°Don¡¯t panic, I told you, she is mine....¡± The words landed heavy, a punch to the gut, and the clerk flinched, her clipboard clattering to the floor.


    Amelia¡¯s boots scraped the stone, a sharp skff¡ªshe was close now, too close, her breath hot on his neck. ¡°Aron,¡± she hissed, low and frayed, subtext screaming you¡¯re gonna get us killed. Her hand hovered, trembling, like she¡¯d yank him back if she could just find the nerve.


    Elyra scoffed, forcing calm over the panic flickering in her chest. ¡°Bold¡¯s one thing, kid. Stupid¡¯s another.¡± She stepped closer, staff sparking again, blue light painting her face sharp and cold. Gazing at his grimoire. ¡°You¡¯ve got a trick¡ªfine. But this guild? We don¡¯t play with parlor games. We break worlds. You¡¯re not there yet.¡± She paused, eyes narrowing, mind spinning behind those glasses¡ªgears clicking, weighing him. ¡°First and final chance. Impress me, or you¡¯re out. Her too.¡± She nodded at Amelia, who stiffened, fists clenching tight.


    Aaron¡¯s eyes flashed¡ªember-hot, fierce¡ªand his grin came back, wider, feral, a wolf baring teeth through the pain. ¡°I don¡¯t need your pity,¡± he said, voice steady now, a promise carved in blood. ¡°I¡¯ll show you.¡±


    Snap!


    Outside, Seraphina was a mess¡ªsilk cloak snagging on the cobble, boots stumbling under the weight of a sack stuffed with overpriced gears and bolts. The city¡¯s magic was a hammer on her skull, pounding harder with every step, a high whine clawing at her ears. She was a demon noble¡ªcenturies old, power like a river¡ªbut here, it was nothing. Blood leaked from her nose again, red drops splattering the stone, her gloved hand swiping at it, smearing it worse. Then¡ªsnap. Her knees buckled, fast and hard, like strings cut. The sack hit the ground with a dull thud, spilling its guts¡ªscrews, wires, a cracked lens rolling free. She went down after it, palms slapping the cobble, blood dripping from her ears now, staining her silver hair crimson.


    ¡°How¡­¡± The clerk started, voice a whisper, then steadied it. ¡°How did you do that?¡±


    Aaron¡¯s grin faltered¡ªjust a flicker, a crack in the bravado. ¡°Told you,¡± he said, softer now, almost tired. ¡°I broke her, enslaved her, minced her until she was mine¡­..¡± The words landed heavy, a punch to the gut, and the clerk flinched, her clipboard clattering to the floor.


    The tower groaned, shadows slinking closer, and Elyra turned, staff flaring bright enough to sting the eyes. Burning. Burning with awe, burning with curiosity, ¡°hmmm¡­.true indeed, truly you don¡¯t disappoint.¡±

 Chapter 13: A Demon

    The tower¡¯s silence pressed down like a hand on Aaron¡¯s throat, making every breath a fight. The walls shimmered with damp, cold as a grave, and the air carried the sour tang of mildew and something older¡ªmagic, maybe, or regret. Shadows flickered in the corners, restless, like they were waiting for someone to break.


    Evelyn stood there, a storm wrapped in flesh¡ªtall, broad, her glasses glinting sharp in the dim light. Her voice cut through the stillness, soft but deadly. ¡°You called my name before, How do you know my name?¡± She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. ¡°It¡¯s not something I leave lying around for village brats to pick up.¡±


    Aaron leaned against the wall, arms crossed tight to hide the twitch in his fingers. ¡°I¡¯ve got my ways,¡± he said, forcing the words steady. His eyes flicked to the side, just for a second¡ªa crack in the mask.


    She stepped closer, the hum of her staff buzzing like a swarm of wasps trapped in his skull. ¡°Your ways?¡± Her tone dropped, heavy with suspicion. ¡°And the slavery spell¡ªhow does a kid like you know that kind of magic? Dark, forbidden, the kind mages like me have chased for centuries and still don¡¯t grasp. Slavery¡¯s a wound this world doesn¡¯t talk about, and here you are, rattling it off like it¡¯s nothing. Explain.¡±


    Aaron¡¯s jaw clenched, a spark flaring in his chest. He pushed off the wall, standing straight, his voice a low hiss that scraped the air. ¡°I don¡¯t need to show proof. I just need to change the world. That¡¯s what a slayer does, right?¡±


    The words hung there, raw and jagged. Evelyn blinked, her stern face twitching with something¡ªsurprise, maybe, or the ghost of a smile. ¡°Bold,¡± she said, almost to herself. ¡°In this world, results are the only currency that matters.¡± Her eyes locked on his, and for a moment, she saw it: the fire in him, bright and reckless, a kid¡¯s delusional confidence burning through the doubt. It hit every mark she¡¯d learned to look for over decades of breaking people down and building them back up.


    She reached into her robe, pulling out a card¡ªthick metallic like card, three golden circles pressed into it. One circle already glowed with a stamped seal, intricate and alive. ¡°To be a slayer candidate, you need three stamps,¡± she said, handing it to him. ¡°One from a slayer¡ªme. One from a well know, worthy king. And one from yourself.¡±


    Aaron took it, his fingers brushing the stamped circle like it might bite. He frowned, confused, then grabbed the stamp from her desk and slammed it down on the third circle. Nothing happened. The circle stayed blank, mocking him. He grinned, lopsided and sheepish. ¡°Well, had to try.¡±


    Evelyn laughed¡ªa real laugh, bright and sudden, slicing through the tower¡¯s gloom like a knife through fog. ¡°Not that easy, kid. The last stamp¡¯s a test. Being a slayer candidate¡¯s a mountain, and a slayer¡¯s a damn cliff. But this¡ª¡± She tapped the card in his hand. ¡°This is a start. Your name¡¯s on it, and my mark¡¯s there. That¡¯s enough for now.¡±


    Aaron slipped the card into his pocket, the weight of it settling against his hip. He turned to leave, then stopped, a spark of mischief flickering in his gut. ¡°Hey,¡± he said, spinning back. ¡°Want to grab a drink? Talk about¡­ ways to shake the world¡­?¡±


    Evelyn¡¯s eyebrows shot up, and she laughed again, softer this time, a giggle that didn¡¯t fit the cold stone around them. ¡°What¡¯s this? Asking me out?¡± She leaned in, studying his face¡ªsharp cheekbones, messy hair, the flush creeping up her neck. ¡°A romantic gesture from the revolution boy?¡±


    His face didn¡¯t budge, piercing her gaze with his own, but he didn¡¯t back down. ¡°Just strategy,¡± he muttered, eyes steady. ¡°Luring you in.¡±


    She smirked, stepping back. ¡°You¡¯ve got potential, Aaron. Fire and guts and a head full of dreams. Come back when you¡¯ve grown into them a bit more.¡±


    Amelia, who¡¯d been a shadow against the wall, let out a small, sharp breath. Her fists were balled tight, knuckles white, her lips pressed into a line. Aaron caught her eye, and something flickered there¡ªguilt, maybe, or a plea he didn¡¯t know how to answer. He smirked instead, covering it up, and headed for the door.


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    The night air hit them like a slap, cold and biting, as they stepped out of the tower. Aaron pulled the card from his pocket, staring at the single stamp glowing against the dark. One down. Two to go. The road ahead was a beast, long and snarling, but he¡¯d walk it¡ªevery step, every stumble¡ªuntil he made it or broke apart trying.


    She snatched it from him, fingers brushing his, and the weight hit her first¡ªsolid, unyielding, not like the flimsy mercenary tags or adventurer chits she¡¯d thumbed through a hundred times. This was different. The metal was cool, strange, etched with symbols that seemed to hum under her touch, alive in a way that made her skin prickle. She traced the stamp, the raised edges biting into her fingertip, and her gut twisted. He did it. He actually did it.


    Her lips twitched up, a smile fighting through the shock. She was glad¡ªhell, she was proud¡ªbut something sour coiled beneath it, tight and cold. Fear. Aaron was moving fast, a wildfire tearing through dry grass, and she could feel the ground slipping under her feet. What if he ran too far? Left her choking on his dust? She bit her lip, hard, the sting grounding her. No. She wouldn¡¯t let that happen. She¡¯d claw her way up, twice as hard, ten times if she had to. She¡¯d stay with him.


    Shoving the card back into his chest, she forced a smirk, mirroring his. ¡°Don¡¯t get too full of yourself, Aaron. I¡¯ll get one too.¡± Her voice wobbled, just a hair, but she straightened, chin up. ¡°Not today, maybe, but I¡¯ll catch on. Watch me.¡±


    He cocked an eyebrow, that flicker of something soft in his eyes again¡ªgone before she could grab it. ¡°Yeah? Better hurry, ¡®Melia. I don¡¯t wait.¡±


    She laughed, sharp and real, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. Stepping in close, her fingers grazed his arm, the air between them buzzing like a live wire. Then, quick as a snake, she lunged, teeth sinking into his shoulder¡ªhard, aggressive, a flash of desperation under the playfulness. He yelped, jerking back.


    ¡°Ow! What the hell?¡±


    She grinned, pulling away, her eyes glinting with mischief and a shadow of something heavier. ¡°Just marking you. So you don¡¯t forget me when you¡¯re out there with¡­..slayers.¡±


    Aaron rubbed his shoulder, scowling, but a laugh slipped out, low and rough. ¡°Like I could.¡±


    .


    .


    The air hung thick, fragile, until a groan cracked it open. In the corner, the demoness¡ªSeraphina¡ªstirred, her silk cloak snarled around her legs like a trap. She bolted upright, eyes wild, hands clutching her head. ¡°Where the fuck am I?¡± Her voice was raw, panicked, until her gaze landed on Aaron¡ªscratching his head with that damn card again¡ªand she jolted, a startled squeak escaping her. She dropped into a bow, forehead nearly kissing the floor, the sack of gear she¡¯d dragged across town spilling beside her.


    ¡°M-master,¡± she stammered, voice trembling like a leaf in a storm. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m sorry. The spell¡ªit was too much. I couldn¡¯t think straight. But I got the stuff, I swear¡ª¡± She gestured at the sack, ether dust and rune coils glinting faintly in the dim light.


    Aaron blinked, head tilting. ¡°What stuff?¡±


    Seraphina froze, her brows knitting. ¡°The¡­ the list? You told me¡ªether dust, coils, all of it¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ohhh.¡± He waved a hand, cutting her off, a grin splitting his face¡ªteeth and no mercy. ¡°Nah, didn¡¯t need that. Just wanted you there, at the exact location, looking all pathetic, when I showed this off.¡± He tapped the card against his palm, the sound a soft clink in the quiet. ¡°Demonstration purposes. You nailed it, though.¡±


    Her mouth opened, questions piling up behind her eyes, but nothing came out. Confusion twisted her face, then resignation as the slavery spell tightened its grip. Aaron stood, stretching, a laugh bubbling up like he¡¯d just heard the best joke. ¡°Good job, Sera. Really. Now, about that money¡ªI blew it all on registration.¡±


    Her eyes widened, darting to the card, then back to him. ¡°Slayer Guild?¡± she whispered, realization sinking in like a stone. Her hands shook, but her body moved¡ªspell-driven, mechanical¡ªdigging into her cloak for a small pouch of bills. ¡°Wait, wait¡ªthis is it. All I¡¯ve got left. We still need to travel¡ª¡±


    Aaron hissed, snatching the money from her trembling fingers. ¡°Then earn more. Figure it out.¡±


    She flinched, the pouch gone, her hands empty. ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°Earn. More.¡± His voice was flat, final, and he turned away, already moving toward the door. The card flashed as he scratched his head again, a careless habit that made Amelia¡¯s stomach twist. She watched Seraphina sink to her knees, breath hitching, and something ugly bloomed in her chest. Aaron was a bastard sometimes¡ªbrilliant, unstoppable, but a bastard. Still, she said nothing, just balled her fists, nails biting her palms.


    ¡°C¡¯mon, ¡®Melia,¡± he called, not looking back. ¡°Let¡¯s go. tonight, we eating goooood.¡±


    Her boots dragged, just a second, her eyes on his back¡ªbroad, unyielding, moving too damn fast. She followed anyway, heart pounding with a mix of love and dread. She¡¯d catch up. She had to.


    Behind them, Seraphina stared at the floor, hands limp, the faint smell of burnt toast drifting from somewhere deep in the guild¡ªlike a ghost of the life they¡¯d left behind. Her breath steadied, slow and shallow, and a quiet spark flickered in her chest. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, she¡¯d break that spell. She had to.

 Chapter 14: Vegetarian

    The courtyard was a bruise of gray in the pre-dawn chill, the kind of cold that nips at your knuckles and makes your breath puff out like a confession you didn¡¯t mean to let slip. Amelia swung her wooden sword,


    thwack-thwack-thwack!!


    against the air, sweat pasting her shirt to her spine. Her arms burned, her lungs clawed for air, but she didn¡¯t stop. Couldn¡¯t. The ember in her nerves hummed, a live wire sparking under her skin, and it was THRILLING. Day by day, she was sharper, stronger¡ªher blade slicing cleaner, her feet finding the dirt like they¡¯d been born to it. Not months, like those smug-ass prodigies. Not years, like the knights who¡¯d sneered at her clumsy grip two summers back. Day by freaking day. She was a marvel, and she knew it.


    But then there was Aaron.


    Her next swing faltered, just a hitch, and she gritted her teeth, pushing through. Aaron wasn¡¯t just growing¡ªhe was a goddamn avalanche. She could feel it now, that ember giving her eyes she didn¡¯t ask for. He grew when he shoveled eggs into his mouth at breakfast, yolk dripping down his chin. He grew when he tipped back a mug of ale, laughing at something dumb she¡¯d said. He grew when he slept, sprawled out on his cot, one arm flung over his face like he was guarding secrets even in his dreams. It wasn¡¯t right. It wasn¡¯t HUMAN. And she¡ªminute by minute, second by second, sweat stinging her eyes¡ªwas still choking on his dust.


    WHY?! The question was a splinter, digging deeper with every swing. What was driving him? His mother¡ªthose quiet stories he let slip about her hands kneading dough, her voice soft as dusk? Or something uglier, something he kept locked up tight? She didn¡¯t know, and he wasn¡¯t telling. Her sword bit the air harder,


    Whooooosshhhh!!!!!


    that sounded like a curse.


    That¡¯s when she saw her.


    The demoness¡ªSeraphina¡ªperched on the low stone wall like a cat that¡¯d wandered too far from home. Her silk cloak spilled around her, dark as spilled ink, and her eyes were on the sky, tracing the first faint streaks of light. Sadness clung to her face, sharp and heavy, but there was anger there too, a ember of its own smoldering under her skin. Amelia¡¯s boots crunched gravel, loud in the stillness, and she was across the courtyard before she could think, sword up, tip hovering an inch from Seraphina¡¯s throat.


    ¡°If you touch him,¡± Amelia rasped, voice raw from exertion, ¡°I¡¯ll have your head before you can blink.¡±


    Seraphina¡¯s laugh cracked the air¡ªa jagged, despairing thing, like glass shattering on stone. Not joy. Not even close. ¡°Oh, child,¡± she said, her gaze sliding to Amelia, heavy as a hand on her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m already done for.¡±


    Amelia¡¯s grip tightened, knuckles whitening. ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡±


    The demoness tipped her head back, a sigh slipping out like smoke. ¡°Your man¡ªAaron¡ªhe¡¯s human, sure. Flesh and blood and all that mess. But what he DOES, what he SAYS¡­¡­..¡± She trailed off, rubbing her wrist where a faint glow pulsed under her glove, a slave mark Amelia hadn¡¯t noticed before. ¡°It¡¯s beyond human. Beyond demons, even, and I¡¯d know. He¡¯s got me leashed tighter than a dog. Can¡¯t breathe unless he says so. I¡¯m just a purse with legs now, printing coin for his grand damn plans.¡±


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    A pang hit Amelia¡¯s chest, small and sharp, like a pinprick she didn¡¯t see coming. She stamped it out fast. Demon was a demon¡ªclaws and lies and all¡ªand Aaron was Aaron. He had his reasons, his ways, and she¡¯d trusted them this far. She wasn¡¯t about to waver now.


    ¡°Stay away from him,¡± she said, voice hard as the dirt under her feet. The sword dipped, but she kept it ready, eyes locked on Seraphina¡¯s face.


    The demoness just nodded, slow and tired, her gaze drifting back to the sky like it might swallow her whole.


    But later, as the morning stretched thin, she caught Aaron in the doorway¡ªjust a flicker of silver hair and a shadow slipping away. His back was to her, shoulders tight, and something glinted in his hand before it disappeared into his pocket.


    The market hummed under the morning sun, a wild pulse of life throbbing through the stalls. Shouts overlapped¡ªvendors barking about fresh bread, their voices hoarse and cracked, kids darting between legs, giggling like they¡¯d stolen the day. The air hung thick with smells: dough rising, fruit bruising in the heat, the faint sour tang of sweat. Aaron wandered through it all, boots scuffing the dirt, his eyes skimming over tools¡ªhammers glinting, blades winking like they knew secrets. But he wasn¡¯t here for that. His hands stayed loose in his pockets, his mind sharp, hunting.


    Then he saw her. The clerk from the Slayer Guild, tucked by a crate of vegetables, her fingers brushing carrots like she was soothing them. No crisp white uniform today¡ªjust a plain dress, faded blue, the kind you¡¯d miss if you weren¡¯t looking. But Aaron was looking. He¡¯d felt it back at the guild, a flicker of ¡®something¡¯ during their last talk, buried under his distraction with Elyra. Now, with time heavy on his hands, he let his ember eyes flare. A glow pulsed behind his gaze, and there it was¡ªnot quite human, shimmering under her skin like a shadow dodging light. His lips twitched. Gotcha.


    He paced over, lazy-like, snagging a tomato from the pile. ¡°Well, damn,¡± he said, tossing it hand to hand. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to see you here.¡±


    She glanced up, eyes widening for a split second before softening. ¡°Oh¡ªit¡¯s you.¡± Her voice carried respect now, no trace of the old sneer, the way she¡¯d sized him up like dirt under her boot. ¡°The future slayer. Shopping early?¡±


    ¡°Tomatoes,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°Gotta eat, right?¡± He leaned an elbow on the stall, casual as a breeze. ¡°What about you? No clipboard today?¡±


    She laughed¡ªsoft, real, a sound that caught the sun and threw it back. ¡°No clipboard. Just me.¡± Her cheeks went pink, just a touch, and she tucked hair behind her hat like it¡¯d betrayed her.


    They drifted through the market together, Aaron tossing out lines like bait. ¡°You tried making a dish out of these?¡± he asked, snagging another tomato, spinning it in the air. She giggled, flustered and bit curious.


    He winked. ¡°Stick with me, I¡¯ll teach you some recipes my ma used .¡± Her smile trailed them, light as bells, her guard crumbling with every step. He liked her like this¡ªflushed, human, not the stone-faced clerk who¡¯d judged him.


    Time went by, exchanging recipes, jokes and some flirts here and there. Finally, At a butcher¡¯s stall, he grabbed a slab of meat, bloody and wrapped in paper, swinging it as they walked. Her eyes flicked to it, then away, her nose wrinkling like she¡¯d caught a bad wind. He filed that away, kept the chatter flowing. ¡°Market¡¯s alive today,¡± he said, nodding at a kid haggling over apples. ¡°Makes you feel like the world¡¯s still spinning.¡±


    She smiled, warm. ¡°It does. Thank you¡ªfor this. For the company, its been a while, I laughed so much.¡±


    They stopped where the stalls thinned, the crowd¡¯s roar fading to a murmur. The place where they finally parted ways. ¡°My future feels brighter, knowing a slayer like you. Farewell. ¡±


    Aaron¡¯s grin stretched wide. ¡°Aw, you¡¯re sweet.¡± He held up the meat. ¡°before you go, Here, take some. Bought too much¡ªmy eyes are bigger than my stomach.¡±


    Her face tightened, a quick flinch. ¡°Oh¡ªno, thank you. I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°Come on, it¡¯s good stuff.¡± He pushed it closer, voice teasing but firm.


    She stepped back, hands up like a shield. ¡°No, really. I don¡¯t¡ª¡± Her voice cracked, sharp now, disgust seeping through. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    He watched her, ember eyes narrowing, the air between them snapping tight. She turned to go, quick steps kicking dust, but he called after her, voice low and easy, like he was remarking on the weather. ¡°I guess elves really don¡¯t like meat, huh?¡±


    She froze. Her breath hitched¡ªa short, ragged sound, like he¡¯d yanked the ground from under her. Slowly, she turned, eyes wide, wild, her laugh too high and brittle. ¡°¡­¡­.What? Elves? That¡¯s¡ªthat¡¯s absurd.¡±

 Chapter 15: Demons way.

    The alley swallowed them whole¡ªa narrow slit between buildings, all shadow and damp, like the city had exhaled and forgotten to breathe again. Cobblestones gleamed wet under a flickering streetlamp, its buzz a dying wasp trapped in the thick air. Aaron¡¯s boots scraped soft, deliberate, as he led her deeper, the market¡¯s chatter fading to a murmur behind them. She followed, her delicate hand still clutching that bag of vegetables¡ªcarrots, greens, a splash of color against her pale fingers, knuckles tight like she was holding more than just produce.


    He¡¯d whispered about a shortcut, his voice easy, teasing, like they were old friends. But his ember eyes¡ªthose twin sparks of heat and knowing¡ªhad caught the shimmer beneath her skin, the twitch of her ears under that wide-brimmed hat. She wasn¡¯t just some clerk with a soft smile. She was old¡ªolder than the stones underfoot, maybe six hundred years¡ªand sharp as the knife he knew she hid. An elf. A goddamn herbivore, if the rumors held, and that bag in her grip said they did. No meat. Just roots and leaves. Funny, how that made her seem fragile¡ªuntil you saw the ember pulsing in her veins, hotter than his own.


    Aaron stopped, turning slow, his grin curling like a secret unraveling. ¡°You know,¡± he said, low, like he was spilling it just for her, ¡°I¡¯ve heard elves don¡¯t eat meat. That true?¡±


    Her breath snagged. For a split second, she was stone¡ªthen her eyes locked on his, and it wasn¡¯t respect shining there, wasn¡¯t the playful banter from the market. It was bloodlust. Pure, unfiltered, a wildfire behind those delicate features. Her lips peeled back, a snarl ripping free, and she moved¡ªfast, silent, a feather caught in a storm. No sound, no weight, just a blur of silver as her hand flicked out, an elven knife glinting toward his heart.


    He grinned wider, devilish, and twisted¡ªjust enough. The blade sank into his side, hot and sharp, a scream of pain he swallowed whole. Not his heart. Not today. Blood bloomed, soaking his shirt, but his hand snapped shut around her wrist, trapping her there like a bird in a cage. She gasped, eyes flaring wide¡ªsurprise, then fear¡ªas she realized it.


    ¡°Gotcha,¡± he rasped, voice cracking through the blood in his throat.


    She yanked back, her strength a quiet fury, but he held tight, ember flaring in his chest. She¡¯d pegged him for a mage¡ªsome kid with spells and swagger¡ªbecause that¡¯s what he let her see. Her mistake. She hadn¡¯t asked how he¡¯d bound that demoness, hadn¡¯t cared about the raw power in his bones, the kind that didn¡¯t need incantations to break things. Her free hand clawed at his arm, nails biting skin, but he was already moving¡ªall his ember, all his strength, flooding into his right chop.


    It crashed into her neck¡ªhard, brutal, a thunderclap in the silence. Her eyes rolled back, body folding like paper, and she hit the cobblestones limp, the knife skittering into the dark. Aaron staggered, breath heaving, his side a pulsing ache. Blood dripped down his ribs, warm and sticky, pooling in his waistband. He pressed a hand to it, wincing, but his gaze stayed on her¡ªsprawled out, hat knocked loose, silver hair spilling free, those long ears sharp against the gloom. Six centuries, maybe more, etched in the ember still flickering under her skin. Stronger than the demoness. Stronger than he¡¯d guessed.


    ¡°Shit,¡± he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. ¡°Didn¡¯t think that through.¡±


    The alley held its breath, the distant hum of the market a world away. He sank to a crouch, slow, like she might still lunge up and finish him. Her chest rose and fell¡ªshallow, steady. Out cold, not dead. Good. He¡¯d need her alive for this to work. His side throbbed, a dull drumbeat, and he tore a strip from his shirt, grunting as the fabric tugged at the gash. Not deep¡ªlucky dodge¡ªbut messy. He wrapped it tight, knotting it with a hiss. It¡¯d hold. For now.


    Then, her. He eyed her limp form, sprawled like a broken doll, and let out a tired laugh. ¡°Now how the fuck do I drag you out of here?¡±


    The air pressed down, heavy with damp and rot, like it was waiting for him to screw up. Aaron¡¯s wound burned, each heartbeat shoving more blood against the makeshift bandage, but he couldn¡¯t stop. Not with her lying there, a secret too big to leave in the dirt. Elyra¡¯s shadow loomed in his mind¡ªtranscendent, brilliant, a genius who¡¯d outsmarted him a hundred times before the regression. She¡¯d seen this elf coming, hadn¡¯t she? Miscalculated something, sure, but not the monsters, not the demons, not him. This. This delicate thing with her bag of greens, this herbivore who¡¯d snuffed her out early in that other life. And now here she was, crumpled at his feet, because he¡¯d baited her into it.


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    He¡¯d known she¡¯d snap. That¡¯s why he¡¯d picked the alley, why he¡¯d tossed out that line about meat. She¡¯d acted¡ªright on cue, weightless and lethal¡ªand he¡¯d been ready. Almost. The knife in his side said he wasn¡¯t perfect, but close enough. He¡¯d wanted her down, not dead. Not yet.


    Aaron straightened, grimacing, and scanned the alley. Empty crates leaned against the wall, splintered and forgotten. Good enough. He bent¡ªpain lancing through him¡ªand hoisted her up, her body slack, head lolling against his shoulder. She weighed nothing, like she was made of air and spite, but her ember still hummed, a quiet threat even now. He shuffled to the crates, easing her into the biggest one. Tight fit, but she curled in, silver hair tangling, hat slipping off again. He jammed it back on, tucking strands over her ears. ¡°Stay put,¡± he muttered, half a prayer.


    He stepped back, hands bloody and shaking, and wiped them on his pants. Couldn¡¯t carry her¡ªnot like this, not bleeding through the streets. But a crate¡­ a crate could be cargo. A delivery. He¡¯d seen porters hauling worse through the city¡¯s veins. His lips twitched, a ghost of that grin. Yeah. That¡¯d work.


    He limped to the alley¡¯s mouth, peering out. A cart rattled by a bakery, its driver¡ªa bear of a man with flour in his beard¡ªhaggling over a sack. Aaron sauntered over, casual as his wound let him, though his pulse hammered loud enough to drown the street. ¡°Hey,¡± he called, voice steady. ¡°Need a hand?¡±


    The man squinted, taking in the blood, the sweat. ¡°You look like hell, kid. What happened?¡±


    ¡°Rough morning.¡± Aaron shrugged, wincing. ¡°Got a crate needs moving. Pay you.¡±


    The driver¡¯s eyes narrowed, but he palmed the coins Aaron dug out¡ªlast of his stash, pitiful little clinks. ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Aaron said, and it wasn¡¯t, but the man grunted, pocketed them anyway.


    .


    .


    The clerk¡¯s mind was a swamp, thick and sluggish, drowning her thoughts as she clawed her way back to the surface. Her blue eyes cracked open, wincing at the stone¡¯s glare above¡ªa cold, sharp light that stabbed through her skull like a shard of winter. Shapes swam into focus, slow and reluctant: Aaron, his outline jagged against the glow, Amelia hovering close with those green eyes that never strayed far, and the demoness¡ªher smirk a crooked slash, watching like a cat with a bird pinned under its paw.


    Aaron stepped closer, boots scraping the floor, a sound that gnawed at her nerves. His fingers brushed the spell-bound rope¡ªmagic humming through it, cold as ice, biting her wrists raw. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it,¡± he said, his voice a thunderclap now, nothing like the soft, cocky hum she¡¯d known. It was a threat, heavy and real, slamming into the quiet. ¡°Try to run, and I¡¯ll bind you with the enslaving spell before you can blink.¡±


    Her throat tightened, dry as ash. The gag bit into her mouth, cloth sour against her tongue, choking the curses she wanted to hurl. She was an elf¡ªsix centuries of life woven into her bones, spells at her fingertips¡ªand yet here she was, tethered like some beast, helpless under his gaze. Fear twisted in her gut, but beneath it, anger flared, a ember refusing to die.


    He leaned in, ember eyes boring into hers, fierce and unreadable. ¡°Relax,¡± he said, softer now, like he was coaxing a stray dog. ¡°I¡¯m not digging for answers. I already know what you¡¯re after.¡± His jaw tightened, and the softness vanished. ¡°I just need you gone. Elyra¡¯s future¡¯s on the line, and you¡ªyou¡¯re a snag I can¡¯t afford.¡±


    ELYRA The name hit her like a slap, sharp and stinging. She¡¯d misjudged him¡ªseen a kid with a spellbook and a swagger, not this. He KNEW Her muffled grunt died against the gag, panic sparking in her chest. How long had he seen through her?


    Aaron straightened, tossing a glance at the demoness. ¡°Talk to her,¡± he said, casual as if he were passing a chore. ¡°When you¡¯re done, maybe I¡¯ll hear her out.¡± He flicked his eyes back to the clerk, a thin smile curling his lips. ¡°If she¡¯s still breathing.¡±


    The demoness moved, her smirk stretching wide¡ªtoo wide¡ªher human mask cracking as something darker bled through. Aaron had pushed her to the edge, and now the leash was off. Amelia flinched, her hand jerking toward her blade, but Aaron caught her wrist, tugging her back.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he muttered, voice low, almost tender. ¡°They need their moment.¡±


    Amelia¡¯s brow creased, green eyes darting between the demoness and the clerk. ¡°Aaron, she¡ª¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll manage,¡± he cut in, though his tone wavered, uncertain. He pulled her toward the door, firm but not rough, and the wood groaned shut behind them, a dull thud that echoed in the clerk¡¯s skull.


    The room shrank. Walls loomed, the air sour with damp stone and the demoness¡¯s hunger. Her form rippled, shedding the human shell¡ªscales glinting like oil, claws curling, eyes blazing red as forge-fires. The clerk¡¯s heart slammed against her ribs, breath hitching. She¡¯d never faced a demon gremlin, never seen that nightmare grin up close. Now it towered over her, breath hot and rancid, a storm she couldn¡¯t outrun.


    She yanked at the ropes, elven spells flickering in her veins, but the magic fizzled, snuffed out by the bindings. Six hundred years, and she was nothing¡ªjust meat under a predator¡¯s gaze. Dread clawed up her spine, cold and relentless.


    The demoness crouched, claws hovering above the clerk¡¯s cheek, tracing without touching, savoring the terror that poured off her. ¡°Oh,¡± she purred, voice a low, jagged rasp, ¡°I¡¯m gonna enjoy this.¡±


    The clerk¡¯s eyes widened, a plea trapped behind the gag, her body rigid. The demoness leaned closer, her grin a blade, and the world outside faded¡ªleaving only the dark, the stone, and the promise of pain creeping nearer.

 Chapter 16: Heart beat.

    The needle bit into Aaron¡¯s skin, a quick, sharp jab that didn¡¯t even earn a twitch. The room was a cramped little hole, dim and flickering, like the candle on the bedside table was too tired to fight the dark. It smelled of herbs¡ªbitter, green¡ªand the sharp sting of antiseptic, cutting through the stale whiff of sweat and half-eaten bread crusts scattered on a plate. Amelia¡¯s hands moved steady, her brow creased, tugging the thread through the gash on his side with a rhythm that felt like a heartbeat in the quiet.


    Aaron watched her, breath shallow, barely stirring the air. Pain wasn¡¯t a guest anymore¡ªit was family, sunk deep into his bones, his muscles, a dull roar he¡¯d stopped hearing years ago. That damn damage spell he¡¯d carved into himself saw to that, a cruel little trick: tear him apart, shred his nerves, his organs, just enough to keep him teetering on the edge, then let the potions and meat stitch him back stronger. Growth through ruin. Wake up aching, eat through the sting, breathe with a wince¡ªit was just life now, as instinctive as blinking. The needle? Nothing. A mosquito bite to a man who¡¯d walked through fire.


    Amelia tied off the stitch, snipped the thread with a tiny pair of scissors that glinted like a secret in the candlelight. She looked up, green eyes sharp, a flicker of something¡ªshock, maybe, or just tired wonder. ¡°You know, Aaron,¡± she said, voice low, rough around the edges, ¡°you surprise me every damn time. What are you? My childhood friend, dragging me through mud and dreams, or some old soul dropped from the heavens? Or just a crazy bastard who¡¯s gonna give me anxiety for years to come?¡±


    He grinned, a jagged little thing, voice scraping out like gravel. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re sticking with me for years now?¡±


    She didn¡¯t flinch. Her hands paused, hovering over the wound as she smeared salve across it, cool and slick. ¡°Not years,¡± she said, dead serious, eyes locking on his. ¡°Centuries. Eons, if I can cheat death that long. I¡¯ll stick to you like glue.¡±


    The words hit like a punch, soft but square in the gut. Aaron¡¯s usual comeback¡ªthe cheeky jab, the quick dodge¡ªchoked in his throat. She wasn¡¯t joking. Not this time. Her voice was steady, raw, like she¡¯d just handed him a piece of her soul and dared him to drop it. He stared, the candle¡¯s glow dancing across her face, shadows smudging the lines of her jaw. A smile crept up, small, unasked for, softening the edges of his battered face. He didn¡¯t say a damn thing¡ªcouldn¡¯t¡ªbut inside, a whisper curled up: The pain¡¯s more bearable now. Maybe it was her hands, careful as they pressed the bandage down, or maybe it was just her, steady as stone in the mess of his life.


    She finished, fingers brushing the edge of the cloth like she didn¡¯t want to let go. The room hummed with quiet, the kind that presses in, heavy and alive. Aaron¡¯s mind slipped, unbidden, to before¡ªbefore the regression, before he clawed his way back to this life. Years of ambition, a hunger that ate him hollow, pushing, breaking, always alone. Pain was his forge then, too, hammering him into something sharp, something unbreakable. He¡¯d forgotten this¡ªcomfort, peace, the soft weight of someone giving a damn. The spell was still there, gnawing at him, a ghost of that old drive. But now, with Amelia¡¯s touch lingering like a memory, he wondered if he could let it go. Someday.


    Maybe, after he¡¯d stacked enough gold, enough power to shield them, he¡¯d grab her and his mom and run. Far from these cursed lands, from the wars he could still taste in his dreams¡ªblood and ash and screams. Find a corner of the world where the air didn¡¯t stink of death, where he could wake up without wincing, just once. Live quiet. Live soft.


    For now, though, the pain stayed. Battles loomed, shadows he couldn¡¯t outrun yet. He needed it still¡ªthe spell, the edge it gave him. But damn if her being here didn¡¯t make it feel lighter, like a load he¡¯d carried so long he¡¯d forgotten it could shift.


    Amelia stood, gathering the supplies¡ªneedle, thread, the little jar of salve¡ªher movements quick but gentle, like she was afraid to break the air. She turned to go, but Aaron¡¯s hand darted out, snagging her wrist. She froze, glancing back, a question in the tilt of her head.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he rasped, voice cracking like dry wood. ¡°For¡­ everything.¡±


    Her face softened, a smile tugging at her lips, small and real. ¡°Always,¡± she said, giving his hand a squeeze¡ªfirm, warm¡ªbefore slipping free. The door creaked shut behind her, a low groan that echoed in the stillness.


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    Aaron slumped back against the headboard, the ache in his side a muted throb now, familiar as his own heartbeat. The candle flickered, wax dripping slow, pooling like tears on the scarred wood. He shut his eyes, darkness rushing in, but his head wouldn¡¯t quit. Thoughts spun¡ªher, the future, the wars he couldn¡¯t dodge forever.


    After a couple hours, The needle¡¯s sting had faded, a ghost in Aaron¡¯s skin as he sat there, patched up and breathing steady. His hand¡ªcalloused, scarred¡ªhovered a moment before settling on Amelia¡¯s head. A pat, soft as a whisper, like he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d earned the right. ¡°Again¡­.Thanks,¡± he said, voice low and rough, gravel scraped over velvet.


    Amelia froze. Heat crawled up her neck, her cheeks blooming red like a kid caught staring too long at the sun. She ducked her head, hair spilling over her face, and muttered, ¡°You should compliment me more often.¡± Her tease wobbled, half bravado, half plea, and she hated how it sounded¡ªtoo small, too needy.


    Aaron¡¯s laugh rumbled out, deep and sudden, slicing through the quiet. ¡°Oh, I will,¡± he said, leaning back, arms crossed like a king on a busted throne. ¡°Soon as you land a hit on me with that twig you call a sword. Till then, it¡¯s tough love, kid.¡± His grin was all teeth, a dare wrapped in mischief.


    She puffed out her cheeks, pouting hard enough to make her look ridiculous¡ªand she knew it. ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡±


    ¡°hmmm¡­..Follow me if you want a real compliment.¡± He was up before she could blink, boots hitting the balcony with a thud. Then he leapt¡ªair swallowing him whole, a shadow against the dusk¡ªlanding light as a cat on the next rooftop over.


    Amelia¡¯s heart kicked. She gripped the railing, knuckles white, then shoved off after him. Her boots slapped tiles, clumsy and loud, nothing like his grace. The city sprawled below, a jagged mess of stone and smoke, and the wind bit her face as she chased him, roof to roof, her pulse a drumbeat in her throat.


    He was ahead, always ahead, ember flickering in his veins, making him move like liquid fire. She felt it¡ªthe ache in her legs, the burn in her chest¡ªbut she¡¯d be damned if she let him see her falter. They neared the tallest thing in the city, a hulking tower of mortar and stubborn stone stabbing the sky. Aaron glanced back, mid-leap, his smile sharp as a blade. ¡°Still with me?¡±


    Her lungs screamed. Sweat stung her eyes. ¡°To the ends of hell if need be,¡± she spat, voice cracking but fierce, and she meant it¡ªevery ragged word.


    They tore across the castle grounds, guards dozing or blind, their shadows darting past like ghosts. The tower loomed, a silent giant, and they climbed¡ªhands on stone, boots scraping, up and up until the world fell away beneath them.


    At the top, Amelia hit the parapet and crumpled, gasping, her chest heaving like it might split open. ¡°See?¡± she wheezed, jabbing a finger at him. ¡°Told you. Have more faith in me.¡±


    Aaron leaned beside her, cool as ever, not a bead of sweat on him. ¡°Soon,¡± he said, soft now, almost tender. ¡°Just enjoy the view for now.¡±


    And holy hell, the view. It wasn¡¯t just great¡ªit was a literal punch to the gut. The city glittered, a sea of lights drowning in shadow, pinned under a sky bruised purple and gold. Wind roared up, tugging at her hair, carrying the sharp scent of rain miles off. That tower shouldn¡¯t stand¡ªstone and mortar defying gravity like a middle finger to the world¡ªbut there it was, and there they were, teetering on its edge.


    She felt small. Alive. Her breath slowed, the ache in her bones fading as she stared out. But Aaron¡ªhe wasn¡¯t looking at the city. Ember flared in his eyes, a glow that turned them molten, and the world sharpened for him. She didn¡¯t see it, couldn¡¯t, but he did: figures weaving through the streets below, their own ember signatures pulsing faint and steady. Elves. So many. He¡¯d thought them rare, a dying breed, but there they were¡ªhiding, thriving, right under his nose all this time.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± he muttered, a dry laugh slipping out. ¡°Maybe I should¡¯ve left the clerk alone.¡± Sarcasm dripped from it, but there was an edge¡ªregret, maybe, or just the weight of being wrong.


    Amelia turned, brow furrowing. ¡°What do you see?¡±


    He shook his head, ember fading, the glow snuffed out. ¡°Nothing important. Just¡­ surprises.¡± His voice was a wall, and she knew better than to push.


    She looked back to the city, her breath catching again¡ªnot from the run, but from the sheer size of it all. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± she whispered, like saying it louder might break it.


    Aaron¡¯s eyes slid to her. The wind tossed her hair, wild and tangled, framing her face in the moonlight. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, so quiet it nearly drowned in the breeze. ¡°It is.¡±


    Silence settled, heavy and warm, the kind that wraps around you like an old coat. His mind drifted¡ªwars creeping closer, pain he couldn¡¯t outrun¡ªbut here, with her, it didn¡¯t press so hard. She was steady, a tether, even when she didn¡¯t know it. He watched her, the way her shoulders eased, the way she didn¡¯t flinch from the height.


    ¡°You know,¡± he said, breaking the quiet, ¡°I think you¡¯re stronger than you give yourself credit for.¡±


    Her head snapped to him, eyes wide, searching for the trick. ¡°Is that a compliment?¡±


    He shrugged, grin creeping back like a thief. ¡°Take it as you will.¡±


    Her laugh burst out¡ªbright, unguarded, slicing through the wind. ¡°I¡¯ll take it,¡± she said, and it felt like a vow.


    They stayed there, the city humming below, a witness to whatever this was¡ªfriendship, maybe, or something messier, truer. The road ahead was a blur, all sharp edges and dark corners, but right then, it didn¡¯t matter. They were together, and it was enough.

 Chapter 17: The reason.

    The marketplace stank of sweat and sour milk, a chaos of color gone wrong. Whispers darted between stalls, quick and venomous, like wasps buzzing too close. ¡°Another one¡¯s gone,¡± the baker rasped, his hands kneading dough but his eyes skittering over the crowd. Flour clung to his apron, pale as ash. ¡°Third this week. Lean ones. Fair ones. Someone¡¯s picking ¡®em out.¡±


    A woman yanked her basket to her chest, knuckles blanching. ¡°My boy¡¯s fair,¡± she said, voice fraying like old rope. ¡°He¡¯s just twelve. What if¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut it,¡± her friend snapped, sharp enough to cut. Her gaze flicked side to side, hunting shadows. ¡°Don¡¯t say it. Don¡¯t even breathe it.¡±


    Too late. The fear was loose, a rat chewing through the city¡¯s gut. Once safe, these streets now hummed with dread¡ªlean and fair-skinned folk vanishing into the dark, one by one, like candles snuffed out. No one knew why. No one dared ask too loud.


    In the lord¡¯s hall, marble gleamed cold underfoot, a stark shine that swallowed echoes. The nobleman paced, boots clicking, his silk robes swaying heavy¡ªlike they wanted to drag him down to his knees. He smoothed them again, fingers twitching, a tic he couldn¡¯t shake. Before him, the crowd pressed in, a sea of pinched faces and tight fists, waiting for him to mend their terror.


    ¡°Citizens,¡± he called, voice ringing bold as brass. ¡°I swear to you, we¡¯re hunting the culprit. This is my city, and I¡¯ll be damned if some rut tears its peace apart.¡±


    The words landed hard, but the crowd stirred¡ªa murmur, thin and jagged, slicing his promise to ribbons. Doubt flickered in their eyes, in the way hands crept toward belts, toward hidden blades. He saw it. Felt it. Swallowed hard, throat dry as dust. They didn¡¯t buy it. Truth was, he barely did either.


    Behind a pillar, Elyra lingered, her smile a secret curled tight in her lips. She knew. The lord knew. These vanishings weren¡¯t havoc¡ªthey were a purge, a broom sweeping out the city¡¯s filth. Spies, other races, all the rot her blind past had let fester¡ªgone, plucked away by a culprit they both understood. A cleaner, not a killer. But the people? They couldn¡¯t handle that truth. Not yet.


    She slipped away, staff tapping soft on stone, a rhythm to her retreat. Her quarters sprawled chaotic¡ªscrolls spilled across the table, potions simmered in their vials, a dying fern drooped in the window. She watered it still, every day, as if stubborn drops could coax it back to green. Sinking into a chair, wood groaning under her, she stared at her hands. Steady. Too steady. Inside, she was a tempest, all lightning and churn.


    Aaron¡¯s fault, this mess. Her prot¨¦g¨¦¡ªher candidate¡ªhad slipped past her walls like a thief through a cracked gate, dragging demons behind him. Her spells, her pride, her grand barriers¡ªunraveled by his clever hands. The sting was fresh, a blade under her ribs. She¡¯d woven those defenses tight, poured her soul into them, and the elves danced through like it was nothing. No more, she thought, teeth grinding. No more smirks, no more breaches. When this was done, she¡¯d rebuild¡ªstronger, sharper. No demon, no elf, no outsider would cross her line unless she damn well allowed it.


    But for now, the city had to bleed a little longer. Just a little. To be pure.


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    What was happening above, was also happening down below, but not chaos, but the source of it. The dungeon was a gutted beast, its walls slick with damp, torchlight guttering like a dying pulse. Shadows writhed on the stone, sharp and restless, as if the place remembered being abandoned and hated the company. The air was thick¡ªmusty, sour, like fear had soaked into the cracks. Elves filled the cells, their long ears twitching, eyes catching the flicker like cats stalking prey. Soldiers shimmered in the gloom, armor clanking soft as they paced, but the elves just watched, silent, waiting.


    Aaron barged in, dragging an unconscious elf by the arm. His boots scraped a rough beat, the elf¡¯s limp body bouncing like a rag doll. ¡°Light as a damn feather,¡± he grunted, voice cracking with a laugh. ¡°Magic? Curse? Some elf trick?¡± He hefted the body higher, sweat beading on his neck, then flashed Amelia a grin. ¡°Carrying ¡®em¡¯s like hauling a sack of pepper. Barely breaks a sweat.¡±


    Amelia kept stride, her sword tapping her hip, a faint clink-clink in the quiet. ¡°A sack of pepper that nearly slit your throat,¡± she shot back, rolling her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Details,¡± Aaron said, tossing the elf into a cell. The body hit the floor with a dull smack, and the iron door shrieked shut. He wiped his hands on his pants, smearing dirt, then turned to her. ¡°Point is, they¡¯re easy to lug around. Makes my day.¡±


    A soldier lounged against the wall, arms crossed, his smirk a crooked slash in the torchlight. He was all grizzle and grit, eyes half-lidded like he¡¯d seen this show a hundred times. ¡°Another one, huh? we¡¯re runnin¡¯ outta cells, kid.¡±


    Aaron chuckled, a low rumble that echoed off the stone. ¡°Tell that to the lord. Maybe he¡¯ll build a bigger cage.¡±


    The soldier snorted, pushing off the wall. ¡°Yeah, well, lord¡¯s callin¡¯ you up again. Wants a word.¡± His tone dipped, respectful but dry, like he knew the drill. ¡°Don¡¯t drag your feet.¡±


    Aaron nodded, already moving. ¡°Right. C¡¯mon, ¡®Melia. Time to kiss some noble boots.¡±


    She fell in beside him, fingers brushing her sleeve¡ªa nervous tic she couldn¡¯t bury. ¡°I can handle nobles,¡± she muttered, chin up, but her voice wobbled just enough to sell her out.


    ¡°Oh, I bet,¡± Aaron said, his tease sharp as a blade. ¡°But one slip¡ªone ¡®hey, your lordship, nice hat¡¯¡ªand we¡¯re toast. Branded criminals for your ¡®rudeness.¡¯¡± He bumped her shoulder, half-grinning, half-serious.


    ¡®Humans love their games. Hierarchy¡¯s everything¡ªNobel blood, usefulness, who you know. Not like demons, where it¡¯s just who¡¯s got the meanest swing and the hottest ember.¡¯


    ¡°¡­I miss that.¡± he preached.


    Amelia¡¯s brow creased. ¡°You miss what?¡±


    He shrugged, eyes drifting to the crests etched into the stairwell as they climbed¡ªnoble badges, all pomp and dust. ¡°It should be simpler,¡± he said, voice dropping low, like a stone sinking into a well. ¡°No puzzles, no politics¡ªjust strength. Ruthlessness. You know where you stand.¡± A pause, heavy. ¡°Us humans? It¡¯s a damn maze. Drives me up the wall.¡±


    She studied him, catching the tight flex of his jaw. ¡°But you¡¯re still here. Playing it.¡±


    ¡°For now,¡± he said, clipped, and let it hang.


    The stairs spat them out near a guarded door¡ªtwo soldiers, stiff as statues, spears glinting. Beyond it, the noble¡¯s chamber waited, a world apart from the dungeon¡¯s chokehold. Silk tapestries drank the firelight, a hearth roared like it was showing off, and the air smelled of wax and something too sweet, like flowers hiding rot. The viscount stood, robes spilling around him like dark wine, his smile wide but thin. ¡°Ohhhh, a humble welcome to our new slayer candidate!¡± His voice boomed, warm as a stage actor¡¯s, but his eyes stayed cold.


    Aaron¡¯s gaze slid past him, snagging on the elf sitting beside Elyra. Long ears, sharp chin, draped in finery¡ªnot rags¡ªposture loose, like they owned the damn chair. A familiar face, one he¡¯d hauled in weeks ago, now sipping wine like a guest. Elyra¡¯s stare cut through the room, assessing, and the elf¡¯s lips curled¡ªslow, knowing.


    The fire¡¯s heat turned to ice in Aaron¡¯s gut. What the actual fuck?

 Chapter 18: Stence of War

    Aaron stood, boots planted, the ache in his side a dull hum he barely noticed anymore. His eyes locked on her¡ªthe elf¡ªshivering across the room, one eye wide and wild, the other a puckered scar, half her hair gone, patches stitched over wounds like a quilt gone wrong. She screamed, a raw, ragged thing that tore through the quiet. ¡°No! No!¡±


    Elyra¡¯s hand clamped her shoulder, fingers digging in. ¡°Shush, damn it,¡± she hissed, voice a whip-crack, low and mean. ¡°Calm the fuck down.¡± The elf choked on her sob, shrinking behind Elyra¡¯s bulk like a kid hiding from a storm. Her trembling rattled the chair, a faint clatter in the stillness.


    Aaron¡¯s gut twisted. He¡¯d thought her dead¡ªfigured Elyra had snapped her neck and tossed the scraps after he¡¯d handed her over, a broken heap of elf in a blood-soaked bag. He could still see it¡ªlimbs twisted, bones jutting, the demoness¡¯s handiwork so thorough he¡¯d had to stuff her in a sack small enough for a loaf of bread. ¡°Good job,¡± he¡¯d told Seraphina then, half-laughing, half-sick. But here she was, patched up, breathing¡ªbarely¡ªher one eye a mirror of terror staring straight through him.


    He forced his face blank, dipped his head to the viscount. ¡°Lord,¡± he said, voice steady, polite as a blade held to a throat. ¡°What¡¯s goin¡¯ on? Why¡¯s a spy elf¡ªyears playin¡¯ human¡ªstill suckin¡¯ air in your fine company?¡±


    The viscount¡¯s smile wobbled, a crack in his polish. He waved a hand, robes fluttering like a nervous bird. ¡°Sit, Aaron, sit. No need for that tone.¡± His voice was honey over gravel, too smooth to trust. ¡°Tell us¡ªhow¡¯s the hunting? Progress?¡±


    Aaron didn¡¯t move. After he had delivered Elyra¡¯s mistake, she took it to heart, whispering to the Nobel sitting before him. he thought it was a chance to grow his circle but alas his own workload doubled, human Nobel¡¯s, anywhere and everywhere, they were the same.


    His eyes flicked to Elyra¡ªstone-still, watching¡ªthen back to the lord. ¡°Done,¡± he said, flat and final. ¡°Finished. Was clear from the start what they wanted.¡± He let that sit, heavy as a stone dropped in mud. ¡°Could¡¯ve told you day one¡ªI knew. But suspicion¡¯s a messy game. So I cleaned it up instead.¡±


    The lord¡¯s fingers twitched, smoothing his robe again¡ªonce, twice¡ªa tic screaming louder than his words. Elyra¡¯s jaw tightened, just a hair, her gaze sliding to the elf cowering at her side. The air thickened, a storm brewing behind their calm. Aaron¡¯s mind churned. They hadn¡¯t killed her. Hadn¡¯t even tried. And that nervous tic, that flicker in Elyra¡¯s stare¡ªit clicked, sharp and cold.


    ¡®¡­.oh! They know now¡­.¡¯ he thought. The great war¡¯s breathing down our necks.


    The fire popped, a sharp crack that split the silence like a bone snapping. Aaron stood rooted, the chamber¡¯s silk walls pressing in, their shimmer mocking the rot beneath.


    He¡¯d seen it. Lived it. The hurricane of chaos and death, a storm so brutal it birthed heroes from the wreckage¡ªAmelia among them, her blade sinking into his chest in that other life, her eyes hard where they were soft now. He glanced at her, standing a step behind, green eyes wide but guileless, her hand twitching toward her sword like it was instinct. So different. So damn innocent. His throat tightened, a knot he couldn¡¯t swallow. He shut his eyes¡ªbreathe in, breathe out¡ªthen opened them, face a mask.


    ¡°So,¡± he said, voice steady, playing dumb like a pro, ¡°what¡¯s got you lookin¡¯ like death warmed over, my lord?¡±


    The viscount said nothing. Just flicked a hand toward Elyra, a weak gesture, like he was passing a burden he couldn¡¯t carry. Elyra¡¯s lips thinned, and she yanked the elf forward, voice low and rough. ¡°Speak.¡±


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    The elf¡¯s sob broke free, a jagged wail that clawed the air. ¡°Five years,¡± she rasped, her one eye darting, wild, pleading. ¡°We came¡ªfive years back¡ªfor her.¡± She jabbed a trembling finger at Elyra, then shrank back, voice cracking like glass. ¡°Her knowledge. Her spells. To wake the Apocalypse.¡±


    Aaron¡¯s gut dropped, a stone sinking fast. There it was¡ªthe word he¡¯d prayed wouldn¡¯t come, the one he¡¯d tried to outrun. Apocalypse. A war weapon sealed a thousand years ago, a treaty every race swore to¡ªhumans, demons, elves, all of ¡®em¡ªbecause it wasn¡¯t just a blade or a spell. It was disaster incarnate, storms and quakes and fire that¡¯d swallow cities whole. He¡¯d seen its echoes in his past life, felt its scars in the heroes it forged. And now these idiots wanted it back?


    He should¡¯ve nabbed Elyra months ago¡ªsnatched her from this damn city and bolted, left the elf to rot. Too late now. The truth was out, a splinter under his skin he couldn¡¯t dig free. He straightened, boots scuffing the floor, and faced Elyra square. ¡°I guess I saved yah¡­..Now, you owe me one,¡± he said, voice flat, hard as iron. ¡°Big time.¡±


    She didn¡¯t flinch¡ªjust nodded, slow, her eyes sharp but distant, like her mind was already chewing through the mess. She¡¯d known. Maybe not the whole of it, but enough. The viscount cleared his throat, stepping in, his smile forced back into place like a cracked mask. ¡°Aaron, please,¡± he said, too smooth, too quick. ¡°You¡¯ve done us proud. Take this¡ª¡± He pressed a pouch into Aaron¡¯s hand, gold coins clinking heavy, then gripped his wrist, a handshake that dug in too deep. ¡°Keep this matter  quiet, as quiet as possible and¡­..if you have any information on this, please do tell.¡±


    Aaron pulled free, slow, deliberate, the coins a cold weight against his palm. ¡°Nothin¡¯ to tell,¡± he lied, meeting the noble¡¯s gaze. Those eyes lingered, narrow and searching, peeling him back layer by layer, a bit desperate. The viscount knew he was full of shit¡ªthose instincts were sharp as a blade¡ªbut he let it go, hand falling limp, a sigh slipping out like he was too tired to fight it.


    Great instincts as usual, Aaron thought, a dry laugh echoing in his skull.


    He turned, jerking his head at Amelia. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± She followed, steps quick but uncertain, her fingers brushing her sleeve again¡ªa nervous tic he¡¯d memorized. The door thudded shut behind them, heavy as a coffin lid, and the hallway stretched cold and dim, torchlight buzzing like wasps trapped in glass. His boots hit the stone, a steady thump-thump, but his mind raced, a tangle of memory and dread.


    He¡¯d known from the start¡ªfive years ago, when the elves crept in, their ember signatures flickering through the city like ghosts. He could¡¯ve spilled it then, warned them all, but suspicion was a noose he didn¡¯t wear well. So he¡¯d hunted, cleaned up their mess, kept his mouth shut. Now? Now it was too late to dodge the storm. The Apocalypse wasn¡¯t just a weapon¡ªit was the end, a force that¡¯d rip this world, for them it was chaos, but for the him back then, it was a ladder, a ladder that reached all the way to the sit of the Demon king.


    The Amelia who¡¯d killed him, her face carved with grief and steel, nothing like the girl trailing him now, muttering under her breath about nobles and their ¡°fancy damn chairs.¡±


    He stopped, sudden, and she nearly crashed into him. ¡°What?¡± she asked, brow creasing, voice sharp with worry.


    ¡°Nothin¡¯,¡± he said, too quick, forcing a grin that didn¡¯t fit. ¡°Just thinkin¡¯.¡±


    She didn¡¯t buy it¡ªher eyes narrowed, green and piercing¡ªbut she let it slide, shoving her hands in her pockets. ¡°You¡¯re a terrible liar.¡±


    ¡°Am I?¡± He chuckled, low and rough, and started walking again, slower now, the gold pouch swinging in his grip. The sound of it¡ªclink-clink¡ªgrated, a reminder of the viscount¡¯s desperation, Elyra¡¯s debt, the war he couldn¡¯t outrun. He¡¯d wanted to keep her out of it, this Amelia, the one who¡¯d chased him across rooftops and stitched his wounds with steady hands. But the past was a shadow he couldn¡¯t shake, and it was creeping closer, its claws brushing her back.


    Aaron sucked in a breath, letting it burn his lungs clean. He glanced at Amelia, her hair wild from the wind, her jaw set like she¡¯d fight the world if he asked. She didn¡¯t know¡ªnot yet¡ªwhat she¡¯d become, what she¡¯d have to become. Heroes weren¡¯t born easy. They were forged in blood and ruin, and he¡¯d be damned if he let that fire touch her too soon.


    But it was coming. He felt it, a low rumble under his feet, a storm he couldn¡¯t stop. Great instincts, he thought again, bitter, and kept walking, her steps echoing his, steady as a heartbeat he didn¡¯t deserve.

 Chapter 19: A Threat

    The street roared¡ªvendors hollering, carts rattling, a kid bolting by with a snatched apple, his cackle sharp as a shard of glass. Aaron¡¯s boots pounded the cobblestones, steady but weighed down, like each step sank him deeper into a hole he¡¯d dug himself. Amelia trailed close, her breath still uneven from the run, her hand brushing her sleeve¡ªonce, twice¡ªa nervous tic she couldn¡¯t shake. Back in the viscount¡¯s chamber, she¡¯d been a ghost, lips sealed under the pressure of noble stares and Aaron¡¯s sharp ¡°Keep it tight.¡± Now, out here, the words clawed up her throat, raw and restless.


    She stopped short, boots scraping. ¡°Aaron,¡± she said, voice splitting like dry wood. ¡°The demoness¡ªshe¡¯s done. We¡¯re leaving tomorrow.¡±


    He spun, one brow arched, a half-grin tugging his mouth. ¡°About damn time.¡±


    Amelia¡¯s jaw clenched, fingers twitching at her sleeve again. ¡°I wanted to say it back there, but¡ª¡± She swallowed, cheeks flaring red. ¡°My words ain¡¯t polished like yours. Didn¡¯t want to smear your name in front of ¡®em.¡±


    His grin softened, just enough to notice. ¡°You think I give a shit what that prick thinks?¡±


    She shrugged, eyes dropping to the stones. ¡°You told me to watch it. So I watched.¡±


    Aaron¡¯s laugh barked out, rough and sudden, cutting through the street¡¯s clamor. ¡°Good girl.¡± He reached out, mussed her hair¡ªquick, awkward, her scowl ducking under his hand. ¡°Four days wasted chasing rabbits, though. Most of those elves?¡± He jerked his head toward the castle¡¯s spires, their shadows clawing the dusk. ¡°Not fighters, not mages. Just folks¡ªbakers, weavers, whatever. Simple lives.¡±


    Amelia frowned, tugging her sleeve. ¡°Then why¡ª¡±


    ¡°Orders,¡± he snapped, sharp as a slammed door. ¡°Except one.¡± His hand slid to his side, fingers tracing the stitched gash beneath his shirt. The clerk¡¯s blade had sunk deep, a wild swing he¡¯d barely dodged. ¡°She was a beast. Strong. Caught me off guard.¡± He flexed his scarred knuckles, feeling the ghost of her neck snapping under them. ¡°Lucky I dropped her.¡±


    Her eyes widened, worry flickering. ¡°More like her out there?¡±


    He shrugged, turning toward the hotel, its sign swaying like a drunk. ¡°Maybe. But one warrior? That¡¯s not enough.¡± ¡®Or was it?¡¯ The thought gnawed at him, sour and stubborn. The elves had come for Elyra, for her secrets, to spark the Apocalypse. One good fighter might¡¯ve been plenty if she¡¯d reached her mark. He kicked it down, buried it. Too late now.


    They trudged up the hotel stairs, the wood creaking like old bones, and there she was¡ªthe demoness, propped against the doorframe, her grin a wicked slash in the gloom. ¡°All set for tomorrow,¡± she purred, voice dripping like honey over a blade. Her eyes sparked, too bright, alive with something dark.


    Aaron tilted his head. ¡°You¡¯re chipper.¡±


    Her smile stretched wider, splitting her face like cracked porcelain. ¡°Torturing that elf? Oh DIVINE, A sure stress relief.¡± She leaned closer, breath brushing his neck. ¡°Give me more like that, hmm?¡±


    He recoiled, a chill slithering up his spine. ¡°Stop fuckin¡¯ smiling like that,¡± he growled, shoving past her. The door thudded shut, a flat echo in the tight room. The bed slumped in the corner, sheets tangled, the air thick with sweat and stale smoke. He dropped onto it, boots still laced, and let out a long, ragged breath.


    Amelia lingered by the door, twisting her sleeve. ¡°You good?¡±


    He didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t fooled¡ªher lips thinned, a tell he knew too well¡ªbut she let it go, sinking into a chair by the window. The demoness paced, humming a tune that scraped his nerves raw, her mood a glaring mismatch to the weight in his chest.


    He flopped back, staring at the ceiling, cracks sprawling like a map of his messes. Elyra was safe¡ªfor now. A slayer, with the guild¡¯s muscle behind her, she had a shield he couldn¡¯t touch. But he¡¯d already warped time¡¯s flow, bent it with his hands. The elves, the Apocalypse, the war¡ªit loomed like a storm he couldn¡¯t outpace.


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    ¡®To hell with it,¡¯ he thought, teeth grinding. ¡®I¡¯ll change what I want. Damn the rest.¡¯ He¡¯d rip a new path, drag Amelia and his mom clear of this shit, find a scrap of earth that didn¡¯t reek of blood and greed. But first, he had to weather the chaos he¡¯d kicked up.


    The demoness¡¯s humming spiked, a jagged little song that clawed his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut, chasing sleep, but his head wouldn¡¯t stop spinning. The clerk¡¯s knife, Elyra¡¯s fate, the elves¡ªit churned, a mess he couldn¡¯t unravel, something was missing. And Amelia, sitting there, her breathing soft and even, a tether he didn¡¯t earn.


    He shifted, catching her outline against the window, the city¡¯s flicker framing her like some saint he¡¯d never pray to. She didn¡¯t know yet¡ªwhat she¡¯d turn into, what this world would demand. He¡¯d be damned if it crushed her.


    ¡°Sleep,¡± he muttered, voice gravelly. ¡°Long haul tomorrow.¡±


    She nodded, a faint smile tugging her mouth. ¡°You too.¡±


    He shut his eyes, the demoness¡¯s hum fading, the bed¡¯s sag swallowing his tired frame. Sleep crept in, slow and thick, but one thought burned through: WAR.


    The bed sagged under Aaron like a tired beast, the day¡¯s sweat still sticking to his skin, sour and heavy. His mind was slipping¡ªElyra¡¯s crooked smile, the demoness¡¯s hum buzzing in his skull, Amelia¡¯s soft snores across the room. Sleep clawed at him, dragging him down, and he nudged the pillow with a lazy elbow, chasing the dark. Then¡ª*thwack*. A knife sliced through the feathers, cold steel biting the air an inch from his throat.


    He opened his eyes slow, deliberate, like he¡¯d been waiting for it. A low moan rumbled out, sleep-thick and pissed-off. ¡°Didn¡¯t know I had a guest.¡± Feathers drifted down, catching the moonlight that slashed through the window, a silver blade across the grimy floor.


    A shadow dropped from the ceiling¡ªsoundless, smooth, a spill of ink in the dim. Dark leather clung to the figure, and the knife¡¯s glint screamed ¡®elf¡¯. Aaron didn¡¯t need to guess; he¡¯d felt that steel before, buried in his ribs. He propped himself up, smirking through the haze. ¡°You elves really don¡¯t know how to hide your tracks.¡±


    The elf said nothing, just stepped forward, boots silent on the creaking boards. His face was half-lost in shadow, but his eyes burned¡ªsharp, alive. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he purred, voice low and slick, ¡°I¡¯m not here to attack.¡±


    Aaron¡¯s hand moved fast. He yanked the knife free, hurled it back with a flick of his wrist¡ªhard enough to whistle through the air like a warning shot. The elf caught it, fingers snapping shut around the hilt, effortless. Aaron¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡®¡­..Not some grunt, huh.¡¯


    He leaned back, casual, but his pulse thumped hard. ¡°Then what was this?¡± He jerked his chin at the ruined pillow, feathers still floating like ghosts. ¡°You hated my pillow for some reason?¡±


    The elf giggled¡ªa high, jagged sound that scraped the walls and set Aaron¡¯s teeth on edge. ¡°Just a wake-up call.¡±


    Aaron¡¯s jaw tightened. He didn¡¯t like that laugh¡ªtoo sharp, too wild. ¡°If it¡¯s revenge you¡¯re after, or some bullshit honor¡ª¡±


    ¡°No.¡± The elf¡¯s voice cut through, clean and cold. ¡°We failed. That was it. It¡¯s my job to clean up the mess.¡± He tilted his head, moonlight catching the edge of a grin. ¡°I¡¯m here to save my comrades. And to warn you¡ªstay out of our way from now on.¡±


    Aaron swung his legs off the bed, boots thudding on the floor. Warnings weren¡¯t his thing¡ªhe dished them out, didn¡¯t take them. His pride bristled, a slow burn under his ribs, but that wasn¡¯t the itch he needed to scratch. He wanted answers. The dwarves were forging, the giants were stomping, the demons were recruiting¡ªhell, the demon queen herself was sniffing out talent. But the elves? In his past life, they¡¯d stayed tucked in their forests, unbothered, untouchable. Now they were here, spying, poking at the Apocalypse or he might had just didn¡¯t know back then.


    He crossed to the window, shoving it open. The moon hung fat and bright, spilling silver over the city¡¯s jagged teeth. ¡°Are you guys scared?¡± he asked, voice low, almost lazy.


    The elf laughed¡ªa whip-crack of scorn. ¡°Of what¡­you filthy humans?¡± His grin stretched, mocking. ¡°You¡¯re placing yourselves way over your head.¡±


    Aaron¡¯s lips twitched, a smile that didn¡¯t climb to his eyes. ¡°Yeah. We do that.¡± He leaned against the sill, the cool air brushing his face, sharp against the sweat. ¡°Humans got nothin¡¯¡ªweak, slow, soft. But we adapt.¡± His voice dropped, a gravelly thread. ¡°I see how your empire will fall. Won¡¯t be slayers and demons. Won¡¯t be giants. It will be Humans.¡±


    The elf¡¯s grin flickered, just a heartbeat, but Aaron saw it¡ªfear, buried deep. Aaron pressed on, steady. ¡°I¡¯ll let you off for that little dig. Do what you want with your mates¡ªdrag ¡®em out, whatever. But¡ª¡± He turned, eyes locking on the elf¡¯s, ember-hot. ¡°Don¡¯t let a single one of your kind come within a mile of Elyra again. Or I¡¯ll make sure your race goes extinct. By my own fucking hands¡­¡±


    The words hit like a stone through glass. The elf¡¯s face drained, his breath catching¡ªa hitch he couldn¡¯t hide. He had a trick for sniffing lies, and Aaron¡¯s threat rang true, heavy as a mountain crashing down. The air thickened, pressing on his chest, the human¡¯s aura coiling around him like smoke. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Then he was gone¡ªmelted into the shadows, swallowed whole.


    Aaron stood there, staring at the empty space, the moonlight pooling where the elf had been. His hand drifted to his side, fingers brushing the stitched scar beneath his shirt. ¡®so there was another one.¡¯ he thought, but doubt gnawed at him, stubborn and sharp. The elves were moving, pieces slipping out of his grip, and the their goal, Apocalypse loomed like thunder on the wind.


    He glanced back at the bed¡ªthe torn pillow, the feathers scattered like a warning. Sleep was gone, kicked out the door. He¡¯d rest when the world stopped trying to kill him. Or when he was dead. Whichever hit first.

 Chapter 20: Dumbass

    Beyond the walls, the forest sprawled dark and endless, swallowing the road that snaked out from the gates. The elves moved like whispers¡ªquick, silent, their boots brushing the earth as if afraid to leave a mark. Five years of lives they¡¯d stitched together¡ªfriends made, families half-begun, weddings scented with lavender and ale¡ªunraveled behind them. They¡¯d arrived as spies, masks firmly in place, but time had softened the edges, rooting them into the city¡¯s pulse. Now they fled, tearing free, leaving pieces of themselves in the dust.


    An elf girl tripped, her sob slicing the quiet. ¡°Thomas,¡± she choked out, a human name tangled in her throat. Her fingers clawed at the locket around her neck, knuckles blanching, as if she could pull him across the wall with her. An older elf, his face etched with secrets, yanked her arm. ¡°Move,¡± he snapped, but his voice splintered, a crack in his armor.


    The leader strode ahead, his leather gloves creaking as he smoothed them¡ªonce, twice¡ªa nervous tic from his days weaving lies in noble halls. His mind churned, a storm of rage and regret. ¡®A child. One damn child.¡¯ Aaron, that silver-haired menace with eyes like glowing embers, had shredded their world in days. A demon in human skin, they called him now, though the leader had laughed when he¡¯d heard the boy was a slayer candidate. That laugh died fast¡ªchoked off by those eyes, that voice, the weight of a threat too real to ignore. His instincts had roared to run, to shield his people, and he¡¯d obeyed. But the sting of retreat gnawed at him, sharp as a blade in the gut.


    ¡°Faster,¡± he growled, voice tight but carrying. The elves quickened, the road stretching out like a silver thread under the moon¡¯s cold stare. They were close¡ª¡¯so close¡¯¡ªwhen a shout shattered the night.


    ¡°Captain!¡± An elf froze, arm jabbing toward the road. ¡°There¡ªlook!¡±


    The leader¡¯s head whipped up. There he was: Aaron, silver hair catching the moonlight like ash aglow, leaning against a tree with a grin that promised trouble. His ember eyes burned, unblinking, pinning them in place.


    Curses erupted from the elves¡ª¡°That fucker,¡± ¡°Piece of shit,¡± ¡°Cocksucker¡±¡ªa chorus of fear and fury. The leader¡¯s hand shot up, sharp, silencing them like a guillotine¡¯s drop. His pulse thudded, but his voice held steady, a spy¡¯s old trick. ¡°What¡¯re you doing here, boy?¡± he called, each word deliberate. ¡°You told us to stay away.¡±


    Aaron¡¯s grin stretched, slow and wicked. ¡°I said I¡¯d hold off while you saved your mates. Not after.¡± He pushed off the tree, boots crunching gravel, casual as a predator circling prey. ¡°After? I do what I want. Kill you, torture you, skin you. My choice.¡±


    The leader¡¯s glove creaked again, fingers flexing tight. ¡°We¡¯re leaving. We¡¯re done here.¡±


    Aaron barked a laugh, short and jagged. ¡°Done? You think I care about ¡®done¡¯?¡± He stepped closer, moonlight sliding over him like a shroud. ¡°You elves¡ªalways slinking around, playing your games, thinking you¡¯re safe.¡± His voice dipped, a growl creeping in. ¡°Well, You¡¯re not. Not from me.¡±


    The girl whimpered, her locket¡¯s chain snapping under her grip, clattering to the ground. The leader¡¯s jaw clenched, a muscle twitching. ¡°Let us go,¡± he said, low, a plea wrapped in steel. He could fight but he was carrying burden, a burden which could lay everyone death, if they weren¡¯t careful.


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    Aaron¡ªthat silver-haired bastard¡ªhad torched their lives with a flick of his wrist, grinning like it was nothing. The whispers had started: ¡®demon, not boy¡¯. The leader had scoffed once, but those ember eyes haunted him now, glowing like coals in the black.


    Then it broke. Four elves¡ªtoo young, too furious¡ªsnapped free from the group, their sigil knives flashing like teeth in the moonlight. They bolted toward Aaron, their footsteps a frantic drumbeat, their breaths sharp and wild. The leader¡¯s voice ripped through the night¡ª¡°Stop, you idiots!¡±¡ªbut it was like shouting at a storm. They were gone, swallowed by the dark, their war cries fading into a reckless, jagged howl.


    Aaron stood alone, a silhouette against the moon¡¯s pale glare, his grin crooked and sharp. He didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t blink. Six feet away, the elves faltered¡ªtheir steps hitched, their bodies jerked. Then¡ª¡¯crack¡¯. Their limbs sheared off, sudden and clean, blood spraying in arcs that gleamed red under the silver light. They crumpled, their sliced torsos sliding to Aaron¡¯s feet with a soft, wet thud, momentum carrying them like an offering.


    He nudged a severed arm with his boot, nose wrinkling at the stench¡ªcopper and rot, thick enough to gag on. ¡°You see,¡± he said, voice slow and lazy, ¡°I¡¯ve got this slave who¡¯s halfway decent with blood spells. Not perfect, but she gets by.¡± A laugh slipped out, dry and cutting, like he¡¯d told a joke only he understood.


    A grimoire blinked into his hand¡ªpages thick, edges curling, the air around it twisting like heat off a fire. It wasn¡¯t just magic; it was ruin, a weight that pressed down and reeked of death¡ªsomething older, darker than demons. The elves froze, breaths catching, eyes wide and glassy. ¡°Mage,¡± one choked out, voice trembling. ¡°He¡¯s a damn mage.¡± They¡¯d thought him a fighter, a warrior with his powerful hands¡ªnothing like this.


    The leader¡¯s heart slammed, hard and fast, his relic knives heavy in his grip. Four hundred years he¡¯d walked this earth, and never¡ªnot once¡ªhad he seen a human wield power so thick it choked the air. A boy, no less, with ember eyes and a smirk like a blade. His mouth tasted like ash, but he forced it out anyway, a shout that split the silence: ¡°Together! We end this monster now!¡±


    Aaron¡¯s laugh sliced through, sharp and cold. ¡°Hahahahaha¡­¡­You blundered,¡± he said, almost soft, like he pitied them. ¡°Gave a mage prep time.¡± He lifted his hand, and the blood pooling at his feet rose¡ªevery drop spinning into threads, hair-thin and crimson, latching to his fingers like a puppeteer¡¯s strings. He waved once, a casual flick, ember eyes flaring bright. That was it.


    The elves charged, and the strings cut through them like whispers¡ªsilent, swift, final. They dropped, bodies flopping to the ground in pieces, a grotesque heap of meat and bone under the moon¡¯s uncaring stare. The air stank of blood and silence.


    Aaron stepped forward, boots squelching, and stopped before the leader¡ªthe last one standing. The elf¡¯s knives slipped from his hands, clattering uselessly, his eyes hollowed out, life draining like water through cracked earth. ¡°How¡­why?¡± he rasped, voice a ghost of itself.


    Aaron tilted his head, studying him like a hawk with a wounded bird. ¡°Well¡­.You¡¯ve got some potential,¡± he said, quiet and sure. ¡°And.. I needed another pet anyway.¡± His hand moved, and a slavery spell coiled around the elf¡¯s throat¡ªtight, invisible, sinking in like venom. The leader¡¯s gasp choked off, swallowed by the magic¡¯s grip.


    ¡°Now that you¡¯re mine,¡± Aaron murmured, ¡°you won¡¯t need these.¡± His knife flashed, quick and cruel, slicing the elf¡¯s long ears to stubs. Blood spilled, hot and dark, soaking the dirt, and the elf¡¯s scream tore through the night¡ªraw, ragged, a sound that clawed at the stars.


    Aaron¡¯s smile curled slow, satisfied, a glint of teeth in the moonlight. He wiped the blade on his sleeve, turned, and walked back toward the city, leaving the wreckage to rot under the cold, endless sky.


    ¡°¡­.Dumbasses, thought they could all just leave.¡±

 Chapter 21

    The sun clawed its way up, smearing gold across the sky like a kid wiping jam on a dirty sleeve. Amelia woke slow, her face mashed into the pillow, a crust of drool gluing her cheek to the fabric. She blinked, the world a blur of soft edges and heavy air¡ªstale sweat, and beneath it, a whiff of blood, sharp and coppery. Last night clung to the room like a bad dream, but she didn¡¯t care. She rolled over, groggy, and there he was¡ªAaron, sprawled out like a corpse, silver hair a snarl, one arm flung across his face. Sleeping like a log. Like the world hadn¡¯t just tried to gut them.


    She¡¯d stumbled into his room half-dead herself, boots still on, drawn by some pull she couldn¡¯t name. Found him like this, reeking of blood¡ªelf blood, probably, from whatever mess he¡¯d made last night. It didn¡¯t matter. Not to her. She¡¯d climbed in beside him, her body slotting into the space he left, her breath hitching until it matched his. Slow. Steady. Aaron was here, warm and alive. That was it. Nothing else. She smiled¡ªa small, cracked thing¡ªand let herself sink back into sleep, his heat bleeding into her bones like a promise.


    Outside, the demoness heaved a crate onto the carriage, her grunt slicing through the morning quiet. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her arms trembling just enough to sell the act¡ªhuman, weak, ¡®normal¡¯. The tools were heavy, sure¡ªmetal and wood, edges biting into her palms¡ªbut not ¡®that¡¯ heavy. Not for her. Still, she played the part, cursing under her breath as she hauled another load. ¡®Fucking kings,¡¯ she thought, picturing them tangled in their sheets, sleeping off the night like they¡¯d earned it. She was the one out here, doing the work, while they dreamed like nothing burned.


    A shadow slid over her, and she glanced up, eyes narrowing. A man¡ªfair skin, light hair, features sharp like a blade caught in sunlight. He didn¡¯t speak, just grabbed a crate and stacked it neat beside hers. Strong. Silent. She blinked, then muttered, ¡°Thanks,¡± wiping her brow with the back of her hand. He nodded once, a quick dip of his chin, and kept going. She didn¡¯t ask who he was¡ªdidn¡¯t dare. Help was help, and she was too tired to care about the rest.


    The hourglass sat on the carriage seat, sand trickling down like a taunt. She eyed it, then the hotel door, her patience fraying like old rope. ¡®Enough.¡¯ She was halfway to storming in, ready to yank them out by their hair, when the door swung open. Aaron sauntered out, yawning, shirt half-untucked, that lazy grin plastered on his face. Amelia shuffled behind him, hair a wild nest, eyes still gummed with sleep. They didn¡¯t even glance her way¡ªjust climbed into the carriage, Aaron slumping against the wall, Amelia curling up beside him like a cat claiming its spot.


    The demoness bit her tongue, hands flexing on her hips. She turned back to the gear, ready to finish alone, when she saw him¡ªthe fair-skinned man¡ªclimbing in too. ¡°Huh. Wait¡ª¡± Her voice snapped out, sharp as a whip. ¡°You¡¯re not allowed in there. I don¡¯t care if you helped, but who the fuck¡ª¡±


    Aaron¡¯s drawl cut her off, slow and amused. ¡°He¡¯s with us now. New member. Oh, and he¡¯s your new slave partner. Get along.¡±


    She froze, jaw slack, words choking in her throat. ¡®Slave partner?¡¯ Her eyes darted to the man, who sat stiff as a board, staring at nothing. Aaron was already slumping back, eyes drifting shut, Amelia¡¯s head on his shoulder. Tired, he¡¯d said¡ªsomething about last night, the new slave, a mess she hadn¡¯t been awake for. The demoness climbed into the driver¡¯s seat, reins heavy in her hands, the man beside her now gripping them instead. She wanted to ask¡ª¡¯What the fuck happened? How¡¯d we get a slave?¡¯¡ªbut his mouth was a locked door, his face blank as a dead man¡¯s. ¡®Maybe Aaron ate his soul,¡¯ she thought, half-serious, and let it drop.


    The horses snorted, the carriage lurched, and the road unrolled ahead¡ªdusty, endless, a thin promise of escape. She was almost used to the quiet when a shout cracked the air¡ªhard, barking. ¡°Stop!¡± Guards stepped out, armor glinting like teeth in the sun, hands up, blocking the way.


    Her grip tightened on the reins, pulse kicking up. ¡®What the fuck happened now?¡¯


    The carriage jolted to a halt, snapping Aaron awake. His eyes cracked open, gritty with sleep, the world a blur of dust and sunlight. Amelia was nestled beside him, her head resting easy on his arm, awake and watching him with a smile that could melt steel. Innocent as hell, but her eyes danced with mischief¡ª¡¯not my fault you looked so damn cozy¡¯. He smirked, reaching over to muss her hair into a wilder tangle, and she swatted at him, laughing soft and low.


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    He swung his legs out, boots crunching on gravel, the sun slamming down like a fist. The air smelled of horse sweat and dry earth, thick enough to chew. Two guards stood there, faces he knew from the dungeon¡ªscarred and weathered, but with a flicker of something like respect. One, a broad man with a busted nose, shifted his weight, armor clanking. ¡°Viscount¡¯s on his way,¡± he said, voice rough as sandpaper. ¡°Wants a word before you roll out.¡±


    Aaron stretched, joints popping like gunfire. ¡°A word, huh? Better be fast. I ain¡¯t doing anything illegal here.¡± He winked, and the guard chuckled, a dry rasp that didn¡¯t reach his eyes.


    Amelia slid out behind him, yawning, her hair a halo of chaos. She leaned against the carriage, biting her lip¡ªa question in her tilt of head: ¡®What now?¡¯ He shrugged, turning back to the guards. ¡°So, what¡¯s the holdup?¡±


    ¡°Give him a minute,¡± the other guard said, a lanky guy with a lazy drawl. ¡°He¡¯s comin¡¯ to see you off. Got questions, too.¡±


    A minute stretched into a small forever, then the viscount burst onto the scene¡ªsilk robes flapping like a panicked bird, sweat beading on his brow. ¡°Aaron!¡± he cried, voice high and fraying, like a string about to snap. ¡°Please, you have to stay. The city needs you!¡±


    Aaron¡¯s brow furrowed, confusion rippling through the air. The guards swapped a glance¡ªtense, knowing¡ªbut kept their mouths shut. Amelia straightened, her smile fading as Aaron crossed his arms. ¡°What the fuck¡¯s this about?¡±


    He grabbed the viscount¡¯s elbow, pulling him aside, away from prying ears. His voice dropped, sharp and low. ¡°Spill it. I¡¯m busy, man. My ma¡¯s waitin¡¯, and I¡¯ve got riches to haul back. Time¡¯s tickin¡¯, and you¡¯re burnin¡¯ it.¡±


    The viscount¡¯s hands fluttered, smoothing his robes over and over, a tic that screamed nerves. ¡°The elves¡ªthey¡¯re gone. Escaped. Not a trace left. The clerk¡­she¡¯s dead in her cell. Throat cut, blood everywhere.¡± His words tumbled out, fast and shaky. ¡°I went to Elyra, begged her for help, but she¡¯s locked herself in the slayer tower. Won¡¯t see me, won¡¯t see anyone. I can¡¯t even get in. It¡¯s chaos, Aaron¡ªthe wa..r, the elves are moving, and I¡¯ve got nothing. You¡¯re all I¡¯ve got left. Stay. Please.¡±


    Aaron¡¯s gut twisted, a slow burn of disappointment. He¡¯d pegged the viscount higher¡ªthought he had grit, not just silk. Maybe he¡¯d measured him against the future viscount, the one who¡¯d carved a legend. His mistake. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°You¡¯re losin¡¯ it over nothin¡¯. Look.¡±


    He whistled, sharp and quick. The new slave stepped forward¡ªpale skin, light hair, ears sliced ragged and short, a brutal mark of Aaron¡¯s handiwork. The viscount¡¯s breath hitched, eyes wide, hand jerking to his chest like he¡¯d been slapped.


    ¡°See?¡± Aaron tapped the slave¡¯s shoulder, casual as if showing off a new knife. ¡°I dealt with the elves. This one¡¯s mine. The rest? Handled. You¡¯re frettin¡¯ for no reason.¡±


    The viscount blinked, swallowing hard, his throat bobbing. ¡°But Elyra¡ª¡±


    ¡°Trust her,¡± Aaron snapped, then softened, just a touch. ¡°She¡¯s a slayer, for God¡¯s sake. That title ain¡¯t handed out like candy¡ªit means somethin¡¯. She¡¯s got her reasons for holin¡¯ up. Keep her safe, keep her funded, and she¡¯ll hold your city together.¡± He glanced at the slayer tower, a dark needle against the sky, its shadow slicing the horizon.


    The viscount¡¯s shoulders slumped, relief flooding his face like rain after a drought. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡ªI panicked. Lost my head.¡±


    ¡° Happens,¡± Aaron said, clapping him on the back¡ªtoo hard, making the man wince. ¡°Now, I¡¯m out. Got a ma to spoil.¡±


    The viscount nodded, stepping back, hands finally still. ¡°Thank you, Aaron. I mean it. and I want to give you a reward worthy of your name and work.¡±


    Aaron turned to the guards, jerking his chin. ¡°¡­¡­.Keep this place upright, yeah? I¡¯ll swing by to check.¡±


    The busted-nose guard grinned, tossing a sloppy salute. ¡°Don¡¯t be a stranger. We¡¯ll miss your ugly mug.¡±


    The carriage creaked as Aaron climbed in, but the viscount¡¯s voice cut through again, desperate and loud. ¡°Wait! I¡¯ll give you gold¡ªa fortune! Name it, it¡¯s yours if you stay!¡±


    Aaron leaned out the window, grinning wide, teeth flashing. ¡°ELYRA!!! JUST KEEP HER SAFE!.¡± He shouted from afar¡ªa bright, jagged sound¡ªand the carriage rolled forward, dust swirling in its wake.


    Amelia settled beside him, her head finding his shoulder, warm and steady. ¡°He gonna make it?¡± she mumbled, voice soft as sleep.


    Aaron¡¯s grin faded, eyes locked on the city shrinking behind them¡ªspires blurring into haze, gates a faint line. ¡°He¡¯ll figure it out. Or he won¡¯t. Ain¡¯t my mess now.¡±


    The gates shut with a dull thud, like a heartbeat fading, and the road unfurled ahead¡ªdusty, endless, a promise stitched with uncertainty.

 Chapter 22:

    Chapter 22


    The waterfall crashed like a beast let loose, its icy spray clawing the air, mist rising in ragged curls from the churned pool below. Aaron sat cross-legged on a slick stone, the water slamming his shoulders¡ªrelentless, cold, a thousand tiny fists beating him down. His silver hair stuck to his scalp, dripping into his eyes, tracing scars and sinew, pooling where his collarbone dipped. He didn¡¯t move. Didn¡¯t blink. His mind was somewhere else¡ªdeep, past the ache in his joints, past the steady hum of the damage spell buzzing under his skin like a debt he¡¯d never pay off.


    He breathed out, slow, deliberate, his breath a faint cloud in the chill. Inside, his ember burned¡ªa third of it always alive, feeding the spells that knit his body tighter. Muscles denser than oak, bones hard as iron, his heart a stubborn drum thumping stronger every day. It was working. He could feel it, the way his frame held steady under the waterfall¡¯s weight, calmer now than it¡¯d been in weeks. But it wasn¡¯t enough. He¡¯d been the demon king once¡ªunbreakable, a force that cracked the world open. He wanted that back. No¡ªmore than that. He wanted to dig deeper.


    Eyes shut, he sank inward. Past the muscle, past the bone, into the marrow where something twitched¡ªtiny, alive, humming. Like tiny winy slimes(cells), though the word felt flimsy, too small for what they were. Little slimes, teeming in the dark, each one a spark of his ember waiting to catch fire. He¡¯d sensed them before, back when he ruled, but there¡¯d been no time then¡ªjust war, blood, a throne built on ash and screams. Now, with the road stretching long to the next city, with this fragile pocket of peace, he had time. So he focused. Hard.


    He pulled at his ember, a thread of heat winding through his veins, reaching for those sparks. It flickered, brushed a tiny slime¡ªa burst of light¡ªthen died, snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Again. He clenched his jaw, the cold biting deeper, and pushed. The ember flared, hot and wild, and he touched it¡ªa single slime, a pulse of power. Then it slipped, and pain roared through him, sharp as a blade. He doubled over, hands clawing the stone, a grunt ripping from his chest.


    At the campsite, Amelia swung her wooden sword, the air hissing with each slash. The elf parried, his relic knife a blur, but his eyes kept sliding to the waterfall¡ªto the boy who¡¯d bent his knee with a flick of power four hundred years couldn¡¯t match. ¡°Focus!¡± Amelia snapped, her voice cutting through the water¡¯s roar. He nodded, but his mind churned. The slavery mark burned at the back of his neck, a leash tighter than any he¡¯d known. And he wasn¡¯t alone¡ªthe demoness, kneeling by the fire pit, shared it too. He¡¯d thought her human at first, just a bad vibe, but no¡ªshe was a blood demon, her power grotesque and thick, like oil in the air. A high-ranking one, humbled same as him.


    A flicker of relief hit him¡ªsomeone else carried the shame. But the question gnawed: ¡®Who the hell was this kid?¡¯ He wanted to ask Amelia, this girl slashing at him with a strength that belied her age, each block a hair¡¯s breadth from failure. Humans weren¡¯t supposed to be this good. His queen¡¯s words echoed, centuries old: ¡®Even though our lives are infinite, the world will never run out of surprises.¡¯ He got it now, watching Aaron sit like a statue under that pounding water.


    The demoness struck a flint, sparks spitting into the twigs she¡¯d stacked too neatly, like she was proving a point. The fire caught with a hiss, and she glanced up¡ªfirst at Aaron, then the elf. A smirk ghosted her lips. ¡®Two slaves, one master,¡¯ she thought. ¡®But who¡¯s really trapped?¡¯ Her hands moved fast, piling logs, but her eyes stayed sharp, flickering with something¡ªdoubt, maybe, or a buried spark of her own.


    Under the waterfall, Aaron shook. His body screamed¡ªmuscles tearing, the damage spell lagging, pain blooming red behind his eyes. Blood trickled from his nose, washed away by the spray. He didn¡¯t stop. Couldn¡¯t. He was close. The ember surged again, and he reached¡ªgentle this time, not forcing it. There¡ªa flicker, a connection. A single tiny slime within him blazed, a pinpoint of light in the void. He held it, trembling, for one breath, two, feeling a whisper of the power he¡¯d lost. Then it faded, and he collapsed back, a laugh tearing free¡ªrough, wild, alive. It was something. A fragile thread, but it was ¡®his¡¯.


    At the camp, Amelia froze mid-swing, head snapping to the waterfall. ¡°Aaron?¡± she called, voice lost in the roar. The elf lowered his knife, his gaze tight, ¡°¡­¡­¡± The demoness snorted, tossing a log that sent sparks spiraling. ¡°Let him. He¡¯ll learn¡ªor he won¡¯t.¡± But her gaze lingered, a crack in her mask.


    Amelia turned back, knowing Aaron would handle himself,she wanted to reach out to him but her care would only be an edge if she didn¡¯t trust him.


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    Foot snagging a root. She stumbled, sword slipping, and the elf caught her arm, smirking. ¡°Careful, warrior,¡± he teased, lighter than he¡¯d felt in days. She shoved him off, cheeks red. ¡°Shut up,¡± she muttered, but a grin broke through, quick and bright.


    Aaron lay sprawled, chest heaving, the water rushing over him like it could erase the ache. He wiped blood from his lip, staring up at the gray sky through the mist. A start. That¡¯s all it was¡ªa spark in the dark. But it was enough to keep him going.


    The elf blocked another swing, wood cracking against steel, and glanced at Aaron again. ¡°You¡¯re not focusing,¡± Amelia barked, her blade slamming his right. He caught it, arm jarring, and nodded. She was right. His mind was on the boy¡ªon the power coiled there, on the storm he felt brewing, quiet and close.


    The fire hissed, spitting embers into the dark like little gasps of defiance. The demoness¡ªstood over the pot, stirring stew she hadn¡¯t meant to perfect. Garlic and thyme curled up in tendrils of steam, thick enough to taste, and she hated how it soothed her. She¡¯d never asked for this knack, this quiet alchemy of broth and heat, but there it was, bubbling away. Aaron¡¯s taunts had dulled lately, softened by the meals she laid at his feet. A small mercy, bitter as it was.


    She glanced at Amelia, hunched over her bowl, spoon scraping the edges. ¡°He coming to eat?¡± she asked, voice rough, like she¡¯d dragged it over gravel. ¡°Or¡¯s he gonna sit under that waterfall another eight hours?¡±


    Amelia didn¡¯t look up, just chewed slow, savoring. ¡°He¡¯s training,¡± she said, matter-of-fact, like it explained everything. ¡°¡­..his body.¡±


    The demoness froze, spoon mid-stir. Across the fire, the elf¡ªstopped sharpening his knife, the whetstone silent. ¡°His body?¡±  she echoed, squinting toward the waterfall where Aaron sat, still as stone, water pounding his shoulders. ¡°Looks like he¡¯s meditating though¡­.¡±


    Amelia laughed, a short, cutting bark. ¡°You¡¯d never understand Aaron.¡± She scooped another bite, pride flickering in her eyes like the firelight. ¡°And at this rate, you¡¯ll never beat him either.¡±


    Her gaze drifted back to the shadow under the falls. ¡®How much stronger does he want to be?¡¯ The thought sank into her, cold and heavy, like a stone in her gut.


    Under the waterfall, Aaron¡¯s world was a roar of white noise and ache. His skin prickled, numb from the cold, muscles trembling under the relentless crush. But his mind¡ªhis mind was alive, electric. He¡¯d cracked it. The ember pulsed inside him, not just in his blood but in these tiny, living things¡ª¡¯sels¡¯, he¡¯d decided to call them. Tiny Slimes was too crude, too weak for what they were. ¡®Sels.¡¯ Small, simple, perfect. He laughed, the sound swallowed by the water¡¯s thunder. ¡®I¡¯m a genius.¡¯


    It was like peering through a cracked door into a secret world. These sels¡ªthey protected, healed, grew, each kind with its own job, its own pulse. Even now, as the damage spell clawed through him, shredding the weaker ones, his body fought back, forging tougher versions in their wake. ¡®That¡¯s why it¡¯s taking more ember,¡¯ he realized, teeth gritted against the pain. His body wasn¡¯t breaking¡ªit was evolving.


    Answers clicked into place, sharp and satisfying, and with them came a hunger. No more blunt spells for his arms or lungs. He¡¯d craft new ones, precise, tailored to each type of sel humming beneath his skin. A locksmith picking a thousand tiny locks. ¡®Yeah,¡¯ he thought, grinning despite the sting. ¡®That¡¯s power.¡¯


    Night had settled thick and cool, the fire burned low, casting long shadows that danced like ghosts. Aaron emerged from the falls, dripping, his skin pruned and pale, but his eyes blazed, wild and bright. He strode into camp, water trailing behind him like a conqueror¡¯s cloak, and dropped onto a log with a grin that wouldn¡¯t quit.


    ¡°Lucy, Susi,¡± he called, voice sharp with a playful edge. Both slaves flinched, heads snapping up. ¡°Your old names were too damn long. From now on, it¡¯s Lucy and Susi. Official.¡±


    The demoness¡¯s hands tightened on the ladle, stew sloshing. ¡°That¡¯s not my¡ª¡±


    ¡°Accept it,¡± Aaron cut in, still smiling, but the air shifted, heavy with the slavery mark¡¯s pulse at their necks. Her words died, choked off.


    Susi¡¯s knife scraped once more against the stone, then stilled. ¡°You can¡¯t just¡ª¡±


    ¡°I can and I will,¡± Aaron said, softer now, but it landed like a hammer. The mark flared again, and Susi¡¯s shoulders slumped, the fight bleeding out of him.


    Amelia watched from her spot, bowl cradled close, a smirk tugging at her lips. She didn¡¯t speak¡ªjust ate, slow and deliberate, like she was tasting Aaron¡¯s victory too.


    Now named Lucy, she shoved a bowl into Aaron¡¯s hands, her movements stiff, mechanical. He took it, still grinning, and dug in. ¡°Good stuff,¡± he muttered, broth dripping down his chin. ¡°You¡¯re gettin¡¯ too good at this.¡±


    Her jaw clenched, but she turned back to the pot, stirring harder than she needed to. Susi resumed his sharpening, each scrape slower, a quiet rebellion in the rhythm.


    Aaron leaned back, bowl warm against his palms, the night air sharp on his damp skin. He¡¯d pushed himself to the edge today¡ªfelt the sels spark and shift inside him¡ªand it was worth it. Power hummed under his ribs, closer now, tugging him toward something bigger. Something he used to be.


    Amelia nudged him, elbow gentle but firm. ¡°You good?¡± Her voice was low, just for him.


    He met her eyes, firelight flickering in them, steady and sure. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, and it wasn¡¯t a lie this time. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m good. Actually I¡¯m more than good tonight.¡±


    ¡®maybe, this is what they call  a breakthrough.¡¯ He thought.

 Chapter 23

    The new day, a new destination, Hanara Forest didn¡¯t mess around. It swallowed the sun whole, leaving jagged shadows to claw at the dirt path. The air hit like a damp slap¡ªmoss and rot tangling in your throat, sharp enough to make you wince.


    Aaron¡¯s carriage jolted along, wheels grinding leaves to dust, the horses puffing white clouds into the chill. Shortcut or not, it was a gamble¡ªtwo weeks hacked down to one, sure, but this stretch had teeth. Bandits, thieves, the usual scum. Aaron didn¡¯t flinch. ¡®Let ¡®em try,¡¯ he thought, one boot propped on the dashboard, eyes half-shut. ¡®Boring bastards.¡¯


    And there they were, right on cue. A dozen or so, slinking from the trees like they¡¯d rehearsed it. Grubby faces, makeshift swords, axes chipped from too many bad swings. One¡ªa wiry prick with a scar splitting his lip¡ªlaughed, a sound like breaking glass. ¡°Well, look here! A family outing¡ªpapa, mama, and the brats.¡±


    Another, a barrel of a man with a face like dough gone wrong, leered at Lucy. ¡°Those melons¡¯ll bounce nice when we¡¯re done. Bet she squeals pretty.¡±


    Aaron¡¯s lip curled. ¡®Stupid as dirt.¡¯ He flicked his gaze to Lucy, who was already grinning¡ªsharp, hungry, like a kid eyeing a toy chest. Her fingers twitched, begging for the green light. He sighed, mouth opening¡ª¡°Go easy on ¡®em¡±¡ªbut something stopped him cold. A prickle, a shift, like the forest held its breath.


    ¡®BANG!¡¯


    The ground buckled as an armored figure crashed down, a giant sword slamming into the earth. Bandits scattered like roaches, but the warrior didn¡¯t pause¡ªblade arced, blood sprayed, bodies hit the dirt. No mercy, just a blur of steel and silence where screams used to be.


    One bandit, arm a stump, spat through gritted teeth. ¡°You¡¯re dead! Our boss¡ªhe¡¯s a special grade warrior, he¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    A woman stepped up, mage¡¯s robes swirling, staff slung across her back. She tossed something at his feet¡ªa head, eyes wide, mouth gaping like it still had something to say. ¡°Your boss,¡± she said, voice flat as a frozen lake.


    The bandit¡¯s fight drained out. In a last gasp, he chucked a dart¡ªgreen-tipped, nasty¡ªbut it pinged off an invisible shield, useless as a broken promise.


    More figures spilled from the trees: guards, adventurers, a whole damn crew. Aaron leaned back, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his mouth. ¡®Finally, some fucking entertainment.¡¯


    One of the guards clocked the carriage. ¡°Lady Tanya! Over here!¡±


    Tanya turned, and Aaron¡¯s grin locked up. Blonde hair, blue eyes, armor gleaming¡ªmythril and adamant, stuff you couldn¡¯t buy even if you sold a city. Noble, adventurer, and¡ª¡¯shit, the future hero of Danville.¡¯ He knew her, or would, in a life not yet lived. ¡®What are the fucking odds?¡¯


    She strode over, a scared girl glued to her side¡ªrescued, probably, from whatever hell these bandits had brewed. Tanya¡¯s voice cut through, calm, polite. ¡°Apologies for the disturbance. We didn¡¯t mean to rattle you.¡±


    Lucy stepped up, smile stretched thin. ¡°No, no, you saved us actually. Thank you so much, warrior.¡± But her eyes darted to the corpses, a flicker of something sour¡ª¡¯my toys, snatched away¡¯¡ªand her knuckles went white on the reins.


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    Tanya nodded, then glanced at Aaron. Their eyes locked, just a beat, and something sparked¡ªrecognition, maybe, or a question she didn¡¯t voice. Then she turned, guiding the girl back to her group.


    Aaron watched her vanish into the trees, mind chewing slow. ¡®A hero, half-baked,¡¯ he thought. ¡®Does she even know it¡¯s coming?¡¯


    The forest closed in again, swallowing the noise. Lucy climbed back into the carriage, grip tight enough to crack leather. Amelia poked her head out, brows up. ¡°What was that about?¡±


    Aaron shrugged, slumping into his seat. ¡°Just a sideshow. Nothin¡¯ to sweat.¡±


    The forest exhaled into dusk, shadows stretching long and thin, like fingers brushing the dirt. Aaron slouched against the carriage wheel, ember humming soft through his forehead¡ªno need for statuesque meditation now, just a steady pull he could feel in his bones. Lucy had waved off Tanya¡¯s offer through gritted teeth¡ª¡°We¡¯re fine on our own, thanks¡±¡ªbut Tanya wasn¡¯t having it. Her blue eyes scanned them, sharp and kind, landing on what she must¡¯ve seen: a ragtag family, happy-go-lucky, bumbling through the woods. She insisted they stick together ¡®til the forest spat them out. Protection, she figured. Aaron caught her gaze, then flicked it to Amelia¡ªquiet, glued to his side¡ªthen to Lucy and Susi, bickering over a tent pole. He snorted. ¡®Yeah, we look like a damn picnic.¡¯


    It weirded him out, the way it fit too easy. Lucy, 200-something, Susi pushing 400¡ªgrannies in spirit, if not skin¡ªchatted up Tanya¡¯s crew like it was nothing, tossing out ¡°Lucy¡± and ¡°Susi¡± without a flinch. Smart. They¡¯d learned quick¡ªsay the old names, and Aaron¡¯s leash would snap tight. He smirked, a little proud. ¡®Good pets.¡¯


    Amelia stayed close, her breath a soft rhythm against his arm. Not a talker, never was¡ªunlike Tanya, all warm words and humble nods. Even in her hero days, Amelia had been a shadow with a blade, beauty carved in silence. Aaron liked that about her. Always had.


    Tanya¡¯s voice floated in, cutting through their quiet bubble inside the carriage. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re not family? I¡¯m so sorry¡ªI misread.¡± Her tone wobbled, genuine, a crack in her polished armor.


    Aaron waved it off, half-listening. ¡°No harm,¡± he muttered, but his mind was elsewhere¡ªon Amelia¡¯s steady grip, on the ember weaving through his sels, small and alive.


    Dawn broke slow, painting the camp in streaks of pink and gray. Tanya barked orders¡ªtents up, fire stoked¡ªher crew snapping to it like well-oiled gears. Aaron did jack shit, as usual. Lucy hauled crates, muttering curses under her breath; Susi wrestled with ropes, his sliced ears twitching at every snap. Amelia trained alone, wooden sword slashing air, her focus a blade of its own. Aaron had told her weeks back¡ª¡¯¡°You¡¯re slow on the follow-through¡±¡®¡ªand she¡¯d nodded, no fuss, no questions, just went at it. Pure trust. It tightened something in his chest. ¡®Hope I didn¡¯t make her too soft.¡¯


    He was lost in that thought, ember buzzing, when a shadow loomed. The armored warrior¡ªHenry, they called him¡ªstood there, giant sword propped like a taunt. His face was all hard lines, eyes narrowed, sizing Aaron up. ¡°Heard from Tanya you kids were guards,¡± he rumbled, voice like gravel under boots. ¡°How¡¯s a lazy runt like you pull that off?¡±


    Aaron tilted his head, smirk tugging his lips. Henry didn¡¯t bite¡ªjust kept going. ¡°Since we met, you¡¯ve done nothin¡¯ but sit there. No discipline, no grit. A man your age oughta learn some honor.¡±


    The warrior dropped his sword with a thud that shook the dirt, then pulled two wooden blades from a sack, tossing one at Aaron¡¯s feet. ¡°Pick it up,¡± he said, firm but not cruel. ¡°I¡¯ll teach you somethin¡¯. Go easy on you, even.¡±


    Tanya watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, her silence loud. She¡¯d seen it too¡ªAaron lounging, ordering his ¡°elders¡± around. The Iron Warrior, they called Henry, his blade a storm of ruin. She turned to Lucy and Susi, voice low. ¡°Forgive him. It¡¯s for the young ones¡¯ sake.¡±


    Lucy grinned, tight and sharp. Susi¡¯s lips twitched, a flicker of amusement. No fight there¡ªjust a shared, quiet ¡®whatever¡¯. Aaron caught it, almost laughed.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Henry pressed, stepping closer, blade loose in his grip. ¡°Don¡¯t be scared.¡±


    Then¡ª¡¯whoosh¡¯. A wooden sword streaked past, grazing Henry¡¯s cheek, a hair¡¯s breadth from blood. He jerked back, eyes wide, as Amelia materialized¡ªboots planted, hair wild, anger blazing in her glare. ¡°Why don¡¯t you train ¡®me¡¯ first huh?¡±

 Chapter 24: Not a Chance

    The night hung thick, the kind that pressed down on your chest, heavy with the smell of burnt stew and the crackle of a dying fire. The camp was a mess of half-pitched tents and forgotten pots, but no one cared. All eyes were on the clearing, where Amelia stood, wooden sword steady, her breath a slow fog in the chill. Henry loomed opposite, his grin wide and easy, like he¡¯d already won. He¡¯d seen her train earlier¡ªslashes and stabs that danced odd, a swordsmanship he couldn¡¯t place. Amused, he¡¯d handed her the wooden blade himself, leaving Aaron to watch from the sidelines after that near-miss of a challenge. ¡°Ready?¡± Henry asked, voice low, daring her to flinch.


    Amelia didn¡¯t answer. She just moved.


    Their swords met with a ¡®crack¡¯ that ripped the air, a thunderclap trapped in the dark. Henry¡¯s grin twitched, surprise buzzing up his arms. ¡®Heavy,¡¯ he thought, boots sliding an inch in the dirt. For a girl her size, that swing hit like a falling tree. He laughed¡ªshort, sharp¡ªbut his eyes tightened. ¡®Alright, kid. Show me.¡¯


    The clashes came fast¡ª¡¯thwack, thwack, thwack¡¯¡ªwood smacking wood, each hit a jolt to his bones. His amusement faded, replaced by a furrowed brow as he parried a blow aimed at his gut. Her style was wild, fluid but sharp, like a river carving stone. He¡¯d fought bandits, knights, beasts bigger than houses, and never seen anything like it. ¡®Who taught her this?¡¯ Sweat stung his eyes, and he swiped it away, breath hitching. ¡°Who ¡®is¡¯ this lady?¡± he muttered, the words slipping out, half-lost in the night.


    Tanya edged closer to Aaron, her voice soft but alive with wonder. ¡°She¡¯s unreal. Where¡¯d she learn to move like that?¡±


    Aaron shrugged, arms crossed, a smirk tugging his lips. ¡°Here and there. She¡¯s stubborn as hell.¡±


    The duel roared on, drawing the camp in¡ªMages leaned out of tents, archers forgot their bows, even the cook let the stew char black as he gaped. They watched, breath held, as Amelia pushed Henry back, step by gritty step. It was absurd¡ªa teenager, barely grown, against a veteran who¡¯d split skulls without blinking. But there he was, grunting, arms trembling, his wooden sword creaking under her relentless swings.


    Then¡ª¡¯crack¡¯. Amelia leaped, a fierce arc, and slammed her sword down like judgment. Henry¡¯s knees hit the dirt with a dull ¡®thud¡¯, the sound echoing through the silence. The camp froze, stunned, until Aaron¡¯s slow, sharp clap cut the quiet. It rang out, proud and lone, then Tanya¡¯s laugh broke through, her hands joining in. The applause swelled, a ragged wave crashing over the clearing.


    Amelia spun, chest heaving, and flashed Aaron a grin¡ªwide, wild, cracking her face open. She bounced on her toes, sword dangling loose, like she¡¯d just won a bet, not floored a giant. Aaron¡¯s clap slowed, his smile softening, something warm and fierce flaring in his chest.


    Tanya stepped up, still clapping, eyes bright. ¡°Your friend¡¯s a genius, Aaron. She oughta be an adventurer¡ªhell, she could join my crew. We¡¯d be damn lucky.¡±


    Amelia¡¯s grin dropped. She shook her head, quick and hard. ¡°No.¡±


    Tanya blinked, thrown. ¡°No? Just¡­ no?¡±


    Amelia¡¯s eyes flicked to Aaron, then back. ¡°Aaron¡¯s much, much stronger than me, you know.¡± Her voice was steady, pride woven tight into every syllable.


    Tanya¡¯s gaze snapped to Aaron¡ªhis slouched stance, the lean muscle under his shirt, the way he flicked his finger at Amelia like shooing a gnat. Up close, she felt suspicious before¡ªa prickle, a hum, her ember sparking awake. It was the kind of tingle she¡¯d only felt near warriors and mages brimming with power, their embers full to bursting. ¡®King grade?¡¯ she wondered, then shoved it down. ¡®He¡¯s a kid. No way¡­¡­.but..¡¯


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    But the curiosity gnawed, sharp and hungry. She had to know. ¡°Aaron,¡± she said, voice even but eyes blazing, ¡°how about you and me? we Train as well.¡±


    Amelia bristled, stepping forward. ¡°If you want more training, I can¡ª¡±


    Aaron¡¯s hand landed on her shoulder, gentle but firm. ¡°She¡¯s stronger than you, ¡®Melia. Way stronger.¡± He moved past her, meeting Tanya¡¯s stare. ¡°I¡¯m guessin¡¯ you won¡¯t let me sleep if I say no, right?¡±


    Tanya¡¯s laugh burst out, warm and bright. ¡°What gave it away?¡±


    ¡°Uh, the plain burnin¡¯ craving in your eyes.¡± He pointed, and a flush crept up her neck, just a shade.


    ¡°Hah, sorry ¡®bout that.¡± She straightened, armor catching the firelight. ¡°So¡­ we trainin¡¯ each other or what?¡±


    Aaron¡¯s grin sharpened. ¡°Why not? I¡¯ll show you a trick or two.¡±


    ¡°Bold words,¡± she fired back, a spark in her tone. ¡°I like bold and brave people.¡±


    He shrugged, easy as ever. ¡°I get that a lot.¡±


    Amelia stepped back, worry chewing her gut, but Aaron caught her eye and winked. ¡®Trust me,¡¯ it said. She swallowed, nodded once, and held her breath.


    The mage and the archer flanked Tanya before they could start, their words tumbling over each other like stones down a hill. ¡°Lady Tanya, control yourself,¡± the mage snapped, his voice sharp as the clack of his staff against his boot. ¡°You¡¯re a noble, an A-rank adventurer¡ªand he is just a fickle boy for God¡¯s sake, this is total madness.¡±


    The archer¡¯s hands hovered over his quiver, nervous. ¡°He¡¯s fucking kid, Tanya. What¡¯s the point?¡±


    She didn¡¯t hear them. Didn¡¯t care. Her eyes were on Aaron, burning with something wild¡ªcuriosity, maybe, or the itch of a challenge she couldn¡¯t shake. She gripped her hammer, a beast of black iron that looked like it could flatten a barn. It should¡¯ve weighed a ton, but her thin, wiry arms swung it up like a twig, the runes along its head catching the firelight in a dull, menacing gleam.


    ¡°Ready?¡± she asked, her tone smooth, daring him to blink.


    Aaron stood there, hands empty, his grin loose and easy. ¡°Always.¡±


    The camp went still. A guard¡¯s spoon hovered mid-bite; Lucy¡¯s fingers tightened on her dagger¡¯s hilt; Susi¡¯s whetstone paused mid-scrape. Amelia¡¯s breath caught, her nails digging crescents into her palms. The mage cursed under his breath, and the archer let out a low, ¡°Well, shit.¡±


    Then it happened¡ªfast, like a storm breaking. Tanya lunged, a gust of gold hair and steel, her hammer slicing the air with a whistle that promised ruin. She was wind, her steps silent, her swing a blur. ¡®A fool,¡¯ she thought, her lips twitching upward¡ªuntil Aaron moved. Too fast. A blink, and he was inside her reach, his bare hand snapping up to catch the hammer¡¯s haft. The ¡®crack¡¯ echoed, sharp and wrong, but his arm didn¡¯t give. He didn¡¯t even flinch.


    Her eyes flared, a split-second gasp slipping free. ¡®What the hell¡ª¡¯ She yanked back, hammer arcing for another blow, but he was already gone¡ªslipping past her, a shadow on the breeze. She spun, heart slamming, and there he was, grinning like a devil who¡¯d just won a bet. Another blink, and the world tilted. Her back hit the dirt, hard, the breath knocked out of her. Above, the moon hung fat and smug, framing Aaron¡¯s silver hair as it caught the light¡ªa halo of ash over that wicked, wide grin.


    Silence. Thick, choking silence. The guards¡¯ mouths hung open; an adventurer¡¯s tankard slipped, spilling ale into the dirt. Lucy¡¯s smirk froze, her eyes narrowing to slits. Susi¡¯s whetstone clattered to the ground, a thin line of blood welling on his thumb. Amelia stood rooted, her pride swelling, a shaky laugh trapped in her throat.


    Aaron gradually leaned down, his voice a lazy drawl laced with glass. ¡°Did you learn anything, my lady?¡±


    Tanya stared up at him, chest heaving, her hammer lying useless a foot away. The sky spun above her, cold and endless, but his face¡ªhis damn face¡ªheld her there. Then, out of nowhere, a laugh broke free, rough and bright, slicing through the quiet like a blade. ¡°You little bastard,¡± she said, grinning despite herself. ¡°You¡¯re full of tricks, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    His grin softened, just a hair. ¡°Well, I like to keep things interesting.¡±


    The camp exhaled, a collective shudder rippling through. The mage rubbed his temples, muttering, ¡°what the actual fuck, what the fuck happened just now?.¡± The archer whistled low, shaking his head. Tanya hauled herself up, swiping dirt from her armor, her laugh still hanging in the air. ¡°Guess I walked into that one.¡±


    Aaron offered a hand, and she took it, her grip firm, testing. ¡°You¡¯re not bad,¡± he said, casual as if he hadn¡¯t just flattened her. ¡°Just predictable.¡±


    Her eyes sparked, a fire rekindling. ¡°Next time, I¡¯ll keep you guessing.¡±


    He shrugged, turning back to the fire. ¡°hmmmm¡­.Then luck will be your ally than your humming hammer.¡±


    Amelia darted over, her worry gone, replaced by a grin that could¡¯ve lit the night. ¡°Told you,¡± she said, elbowing him hard. ¡°Much, much stronger.¡±


    Tanya watched them, her hammer back in hand, its weight a comfort against the ache in her ribs. ¡®Who are these kids?¡¯

 Chapter 25: AC

    The sun clawed its way up, slow and mean, dragging a wet, orange heat over the road. Air so thick you could chew it¡ªmoist, heavy, sticking to your lungs like damp cloth. Sweat rolled down necks, pooled in collars, stung eyes. The road stretched out, a dusty scar cutting a week¡¯s trek into a day, but time still crawled. Every breath was a fight, every step a slog. Everybody literally sweating their balls off.


    Except Aaron and his crew.


    Inside their carriage, a little box of genius whirred¡ªElyra¡¯s work, one of her ¡°smallest¡± tricks. Gears clinked like a heartbeat, spells sparked faint and blue, an ember stone glowing at its core. It sucked the heat out, puffed cold air back¡ªcrisp, almost alive. Aaron slouched against the wall, silver hair barely sticking to his skin, one hand resting on the device like it was a pet. He didn¡¯t say much, just let the cool wash over him.


    Amelia sucked in a breath, grinning like she¡¯d won something. ¡°Gods, Aaron, this thing¡¯s a miracle. Where¡¯d you even snag it?¡± She kicked her boots up, leather creaking, her cheeks pink but dry.


    ¡°Elyra owed me,¡± he muttered, eyes half-closed. ¡°Thought it¡¯d be useful.¡±


    Lucy snorted, sprawled across her bench, dagger twirling lazy in her hand. ¡°Useful? Shit, it¡¯s a throne. Look at ¡®em out there¡ªroasting like pigs.¡± Her smirk was sharp, smug, the kind that said ¡®we¡¯re better off and I like it.¡¯


    Susi nodded, his whetstone still for once, thumb brushing its edge like a prayer. ¡°Feels wrong, almost,¡± he said, voice low, but his sliced ears twitched less in the chill. ¡°Not that I¡¯m complaining.¡± A flicker of a smile¡ªrare, small, human.


    Outside, the world wasn¡¯t so kind. The other carriages rolled on, sluggish, their fancy paint peeling in the heat. The big one¡ªgilded, noble, screaming ¡®money¡¯¡ªmight as well have been an oven. Inside, Tanya sat ramrod straight, armor off, linen tunic clinging to her like a second skin. Sweat traced her jaw, dripped down her neck. She flapped a paper fan¡ªthin, useless, stirring hot air into hotter air. The window was cracked open, but it just let more damp in.


    Celina, next to her, looked like a drowned bird¡ªrobes soaked, hair sticking to her face. She waved her own fan, painted with waves that mocked her water magic. ¡°Ugh,¡± she groaned, wiping her brow. ¡°This is torture.¡±


    The little girl they¡¯d pulled from the bandits¡ªblonde, crimson-eyed, still shaky¡ªtugged at her collar and whined, ¡°Too hot. I hate it.¡± Her voice cracked, small and raw.


    Tanya¡¯s fan slowed, her jaw tight. ¡°. Indeed Lady Elizabeth, We¡¯re all dying here.¡± She glanced out the window¡ªforest blurring by, leaves sagging, air shimmering. ¡®Even the damn trees are sweating.¡¯


    Celina, desperate for anything but this misery, perked up. ¡°Hey, last night¡ªGods, that duel. Amelia¡¯s a freak yeah, but Aaron¡­¡± She shook her head, eyes wide. ¡°What even ¡®was¡¯ that?¡±


    Tanya¡¯s fan snapped shut. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± Sharp, like a blade. Then softer, ¡°Just¡­ don¡¯t.¡±


    The girl tilted her head, crimson eyes cutting through the haze. ¡°But he beat you, right? With nothing? How?¡±


    Tanya laughed¡ªshort, brittle, like a bone snapping. ¡°Yeah, he did.¡± She leaned back, wood groaning under her. ¡°Kid¡¯s a monster. Fast as hell, strong, technique so smooth, it looked like he was slicing butter.¡± Sweat slid down her temple, but her stare was hard. ¡°I¡¯ve been swinging a hammer since I could stand. They called me a prodigy¡ªonce-in-a-century, all that crap. But him¡­¡± She shook her head, fan crumpling in her fist.


    Celina frowned, fanning faster. ¡°Maybe you were off? Tired from the rescue?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Flat, final. ¡°He held back. I felt it¡ªlike he was playing with me.¡± Her voice dipped, low and rough. ¡°Twelve, maybe thirteen years old, and he¡¯s already¡­¡± She didn¡¯t finish. Didn¡¯t need to.


    The girl blinked, curious. ¡°You mad at him?¡±


    Tanya¡¯s lip twitched¡ªa half-smile, jagged. ¡°Mad? No. Pissed at myself, maybe.¡± She smoothed the fan out, fingers lingering on the creases. ¡°I¡¯ve clawed too far to let one loss gut me. I¡¯m the warrior maiden, right?¡± She winked at the kid, but her eyes were storm-dark.


    Celina leaned in, voice soft. ¡°You¡¯re not quitting, are you?¡±


    Tanya¡¯s gaze snapped up, fierce. ¡°Never. I¡¯ll train ¡®til my bones break. Fight smarter. Next time, he¡¯s mine to conquer.¡± She tapped her hammer, propped beside her, runes dull in the heat. ¡°Got tricks he hasn¡¯t seen.¡±


    The girl giggled, fanning herself. ¡°You¡¯ll get him. I know it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Tanya said, softer. ¡°Maybe.¡± A real smile flickered, then faded.


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    ¡°¡­..It¡¯s stupid. ¡®He¡¯s¡¯ stupid. You¡¯re better, Lady Tanya. Stronger. Kinder. That brat shouldn¡¯t have¡ª¡± She stopped, fists clenching so tight her knuckles went white. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t have won.¡±


    Tanya sat across from her, fanning herself with a crumpled paper fan, the edges fraying where her fingers gripped too hard. ¡°Lizzie,¡± she said, voice soft but stretched thin, ¡°don¡¯t fuss over it. He¡¯s just a kid with a trick or two.¡± Her smile was a brittle thing, ready to crack. She glanced out the window¡ªdust and haze and the endless road¡ªand her mind slipped. Aaron¡¯s shove. The ground slamming up. Her hammer slipping from her hand like she was nothing. She blinked it away, fast, and forced her grin wider. ¡°Next time, I¡¯ll knock that smirk off his face.¡±


    Celina, sprawled beside her, robes clinging like damp laundry, snorted. ¡°Yeah, what she said. Probably cheated anyway¡ªsome sneaky little spell.¡± She flicked her wrist, mimicking a mage¡¯s flourish, and grinned. ¡°You¡¯ll squash him flat, Tanya. Like a bug.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s head snapped up, eyes blazing. ¡°Yeah! Squash him! He¡¯s mean and¡ªand smug, and I hate him!¡± She kicked the carriage floor, a dull ¡®thump¡¯ swallowed by the creak of wood and the horses¡¯ labored snorts.


    Tanya laughed¡ªa short, sharp sound, like glass breaking. ¡°Thanks, you two. Makes me feel better, hearing that.¡± She ruffled Elizabeth¡¯s hair, damp strands tangling under her fingers. ¡°He¡¯s a cocky little shit, I¡¯ll give you that.¡±


    But then¡ªthere. A whisper of cold slipped through the window, sharp against the thick, sticky air. Tanya froze, fan stilled mid-swipe. She leaned forward, squinting, then stuck her head out. The breeze hit her full-on¡ªcrisp, defiant, coming from ¡®behind¡¯. From ¡®them¡¯.


    ¡°What in God¡¯s name¡­?¡± she muttered, yanking the reins hard. The carriage lurched, horses whinnying, dust kicking up in a gritty cloud. She was out before it fully stopped, boots crunching dirt, marching toward Aaron¡¯s crew like a storm rolling in.


    Elizabeth scrambled after her, tripping over her own feet. ¡°Lady Tanya? What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Tanya didn¡¯t answer. She could see them now¡ªAaron lounging like a king, silver hair glinting in the sun, that damn smirk still plastered on his face. Amelia beside him, wrapped in a sheet like it was winter, giggling. Lucy twirling her dagger, lazy and unbothered. Susi sharpening his blade, not a drop of sweat on him. The air around them shimmered cool, a slap in the face to the heat choking everything else.


    Tanya¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡®You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡¯


    Elizabeth saw it too. Her face went red¡ªrage, not heat¡ªand she bolted past Tanya, tiny fists swinging. ¡°Hey! You¡ªyou cheats!¡± Her voice cracked, shrill and furious. ¡°What foul magic is this? You¡¯re all cool and happy while we¡¯re ¡®dying¡¯ out here? How dare you!¡±


    Amelia¡¯s giggle cut off, sheet slipping. Lucy¡¯s dagger paused. Susi¡¯s whetstone stilled. Aaron just tilted his head, smirking wider, like he¡¯d been waiting for this.


    Tanya lunged, grabbing Elizabeth¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Lizzie, hold on. Let me¡ª¡± She softened her voice, but her eyes were hard, locked on Aaron. ¡°Let me talk.¡±


    Elizabeth huffed, stepping back, but her glare could¡¯ve set the carriage on fire. ¡°Fine,¡± she spat, crossing her arms.


    Tanya straightened, arms folding over her chest. ¡°So. Mind telling me why your carriage feels like a damn icebox while we¡¯re melting out here?¡±


    Aaron shrugged, casual as if he hadn¡¯t just turned her world upside down¡ªagain. He tapped a small device beside him, gears clicking, a faint ember glow pulsing inside. ¡°Cooling tool. Magic engineering¡¯s finest. Keeps the heat off.¡± His smirk sharpened. ¡°Pretty nice, huh?¡±


    ¡°Nice?¡± Tanya¡¯s laugh was a blade, short and cutting. ¡°You¡¯ve got a gods-damned oasis in here, and you didn¡¯t think to say a word?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t know I was your nursemaid, my lady.¡± Aaron leaned back, arms behind his head. ¡°Figured you¡¯d tough it out. You¡¯re good at that.¡±


    Elizabeth¡¯s face twisted. ¡°You¡¯re horrible!¡± She stomped her foot, dust puffing up. ¡°Selfish! Mean! Lady Tanya saved me from bandits¡ªreal, nasty ones¡ªand you just sit there laughing!¡±


    ¡°Lizzie,¡± Tanya said, sharper this time, hand tightening on her shoulder. She shot Aaron a look¡ªhalf-exasperated, half-amused, like she couldn¡¯t decide if she wanted to punch him or laugh. ¡°It¡¯s fine. We¡¯ll manage.¡±


    Aaron nodded, slow and smug. ¡°Can¡¯t help you, kid. This thing¡¯s built for one carriage. Not a charity wagon.¡±


    Elizabeth opened her mouth¡ªanother yell brewing¡ªbut Tanya cut her off. ¡°Let it go.¡± Her smile was tight, forced, a mask she¡¯d worn too long. ¡°Can¡¯t be helped, right?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Aaron said, leaning back again, like that settled it.


    Tanya turned, pulling Elizabeth along, the girl muttering curses under her breath¡ª¡°stupid brat,¡± ¡°foul magic,¡± ¡°hope he trips¡±¡ªand Tanya almost smiled for real. Almost


    Fifteen minutes later, Aaron was choking on his own damn words.


    The carriage door banged open, and there they were¡ªTanya striding in like she owned it, fan snapping open with a flick. Celina stumbled after her, already sighing like she¡¯d found paradise. ¡°Oh, Gods, this is ¡®heaven¡¯. Aaron, you¡¯re a genius.¡±


    Elizabeth clambered up next, plopping down across from him, glaring like she¡¯d burn a hole through his skull. But even she couldn¡¯t hide the way her shoulders slumped, the cool air washing over her flushed face.


    And then¡ª¡¯Gods help him¡¯¡ªHenry ducked through the door, his bulk filling the space, a sheepish grin on his broad face. ¡°Room for one more?¡± He settled next to Susi, who flinched like a cat in a rainstorm.


    Aaron¡¯s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. ¡°What in the actual fuck¡­¡±


    Tanya dropped onto the bench opposite him, fanning herself with that wrecked paper. ¡°You said it¡ªcan¡¯t help us. So we¡¯re helping ourselves.¡± Her grin was all teeth, daring him to argue.


    Amelia bit her lip, stifling a laugh. ¡°Guess we¡¯ve got guests now.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Lucy muttered, dagger spinning faster. ¡°More mouths.¡±


    Susi just grunted, thumb tracing his whetstone like it¡¯d save him from this nightmare.


    Henry chuckled, clapping Susi¡¯s shoulder¡ªtoo hard, judging by the wince. ¡°Don¡¯t fret, friend. We won¡¯t stay long.¡±


    Aaron leaned back, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling like it might give him an out. ¡®Should¡¯ve kept my trap shut.¡¯ But when his gaze flicked to Tanya, her eyes glinting with that same sharp amusement, he felt it¡ªa grudging tug at his mouth. A smirk he couldn¡¯t kill.


    The carriage rolled on, cool air humming through the cramped space, the world outside still roasting under that bastard sun. Inside, it was a mess¡ªAaron caught himself tapping his foot¡ªstopped it fast. Too late. Tanya noticed, her grin twitching wider. He looked away, jaw tight, and thought, ¡®This is gonna be a long damn ride.¡¯

 Chapter 26:

    The carriage wasn¡¯t a carriage anymore. It was a fucking tomb. Aaron¡¯s legs cramped, locked tight, knees grinding against the bench like they¡¯d snap if he dared stretch. Used to be he could sprawl, arms wide, let the road¡¯s rumble shake the tension out. Now? Packed in like cattle. Sweat dripped down his spine, soaked his shirt, the air heavy with too many lungs sucking it dry. He smelled them all¡ªHenry¡¯s sour musk, Susi¡¯s iron tang of blood from that damn whetstone, Tanya¡¯s lavender perfume gone rancid in the heat. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached, a low growl clawing up his throat.


    ¡°Why do nobles like you lot wanna squeeze in with us peasants, my lady?¡± His voice scraped out, rough as gravel, less a question than a curse spat at the world.


    Tanya¡¯s giggle sliced through, high and bright, a shard of glass in the murk. ¡°Oh, sometimes we need a little humility. This seemed¡­ opportune.¡± She fanned herself with that tattered paper, her grin too sharp, eyes glinting like she¡¯d already won something he didn¡¯t know he¡¯d lost.


    Amelia¡¯s scoff was a whipcrack. She pressed tighter against Aaron, her nails digging into his arm, a feral little beast staking her claim. ¡°Should¡¯ve bought your own damn cooling box. Leave ours alone.¡± Her voice trembled¡ªhalf rage, half whine¡ªher precious Aaron-time stolen by these silk-clad vultures.


    He patted her hand, quick, firm. ¡°Ames. Chill. They didn¡¯t know.¡± His tone flattened as he flicked his gaze to Tanya. ¡°It¡¯s new. Barely anyone¡¯s heard of it.¡±


    Tanya¡¯s fan paused, her head tilting, hunger flashing in her eyes. ¡°Where¡¯d you get it? I¡¯d slit throats for one¡ªmy room, this carriage, anything.¡± Her words dripped casual, but they gripped like a fist.


    ¡°Elyra,¡± Aaron muttered, tossing it out like a spent match, already bored.


    Her smile curdled. She snapped the fan shut¡ªcrack¡ªloud enough to make Elizabeth jump. ¡°Elyra. Of course.¡± Her voice was venom, thick and slow. ¡°Our families have been bleeding each other dry for centuries. I¡¯d rather roast than take her scraps.¡±


    Aaron shrugged, shoulders heavy, like her feud was a fly he couldn¡¯t be bothered to swat. ¡°Your loss.¡± Noble bullshit meant nothing to him¡ªnever had, never would. He¡¯d seen too much dirt to care about their polished wars.


    The carriage jolted, wheels slamming a rock. Henry¡¯s knee smashed into Susi¡¯s again, and Susi¡¯s whetstone slipped¡ªred bloomed on his thumb, a thin, bright line. He didn¡¯t flinch. Just smeared it on his pants, kept scraping steel, the sound a heartbeat in the chaos. Aaron¡¯s eyes drifted to Tanya. She was staring. Always staring. Her gaze a blade, peeling him layer by layer, like she could carve out his soul and keep it.


    ¡°Spill it,¡± he snapped, voice low, a fuse burning short.


    Elizabeth erupted, tiny fists balled, crimson eyes blazing. ¡°How dare you talk to Lady Tanya like that? She¡¯s nobility¡ªshow some respect!¡± Her shriek was a kid¡¯s tantrum, all heat and no weight, trembling with righteous fury.


    Tanya¡¯s hand shot up, cutting her off. ¡°Lizzie, enough. We¡¯re adventurers here. Titles are horseshit on the road.¡± She leaned back, smirking, but her eyes never left Aaron. ¡°I like it. No groveling. It¡¯s¡­ honest.¡± Her voice softened, but it was a lie¡ªthere was steel underneath, cold and waiting.


    Aaron¡¯s lip twitched. Honest. Rare as a clean blade in a butcher¡¯s den. He didn¡¯t trust it¡ªdidn¡¯t trust her. She inhaled deep, the cool air hissing through her teeth, then let it out slow, savoring. ¡°Aaron. Amelia. Join my family. I¡¯ll give you everything¡ªknowledge, gold, a fucking palace. Name it, it¡¯s yours.¡± Her words landed heavy, a promise laced with chains.


    Silence hit like a hammer. Lucy¡¯s dagger froze mid-twirl, dangling in her shaky grip. Susi¡¯s whetstone stilled, the scrape dying. Henry¡¯s hum choked off, abrupt, a snapped wire. The air turned solid, every breath a fight.


    Amelia lunged up, nearly braining herself on the ceiling, finger stabbing at Tanya. ¡°No! You can¡¯t have him¡ªhe¡¯s mine! No, no, no¡ªfuck no!¡± Her voice cracked, raw, a scream of possession and panic, her face red, eyes wet and wild.


    Aaron¡¯s hand clamped her arm, yanked her down hard. ¡°Ames. Sit. Now.¡± His cheeks burned, a flush crawling up his neck, embarrassment gnawing his gut. She thudded back, arms locked tight, a coiled spring ready to snap.


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    He faced Tanya, eyes hard as flint. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your breath. Your family couldn¡¯t buy me¡ªor us¡ªif you emptied every vault.¡± His voice was a wall, unyielding, built from scars she¡¯d never see.


    Tanya blinked, confusion creasing her brow. ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡± She leaned in, fan forgotten, her curiosity a live thing, clawing.


    Aaron¡¯s gaze slid to the window. Dust swirled outside, endless, choking. His mind wasn¡¯t there¡ªit was on the treasure, a weight heavier than kingdoms, a ghost that dragged him forward. ¡°What I¡¯m after¡­ it¡¯s more than your noble blood can touch.¡± He didn¡¯t say it¡ªcouldn¡¯t. A kingdom¡¯s worth. More..


    ¡°What treasure?¡± Tanya pressed, voice low, a blade against his throat. ¡°Tell me. I can help.¡±


    He shook his head, slow, final. ¡°You can¡¯t.¡±


    She didn¡¯t stop. ¡°Power? Riches? Revenge?¡± Her words sped up, enticing, desperate, a net closing in.


    His fingers tapped the bench¡ªtap-tap-tap¡ªa restless tic, a heartbeat he couldn¡¯t kill. ¡°No.¡± Flat. Done. A door slammed shut.


    Lucy¡¯s voice cracked the quiet, small, nervous. ¡°We¡¯re broke, you know. Maybe we could¡ª¡± His glare cut her off, sharp as a lash. She shrank back, muttering, twisting her tunic ¡®til it frayed.


    Tanya sighed, fan snapping open, the sound a gunshot in the stillness. ¡°Fine. But if you ever¡ª¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Aaron said, voice iron, ringing finality.


    Celina sat rigid, her peasant hands¡ªgnarled from scrabbling out of shit¡ªgripping her flask ¡®til her knuckles blanched. She watched Aaron, eyes like razors, peeling back the lie. Rugged, yeah¡ªboots scuffed to ruin, voice a growl¡ªbut it was bullshit. His spine was steel, his stare a throne he didn¡¯t bother claiming. Noble? Fuck that. King. Born to crush, bred to rule. Even Tanya¡ªhammer-swinging, highborn strut¡ªfaded next to him, a candle by a bonfire. Celina¡¯s thumb pressed¡ªcrack¡ªa split in the flask, a secret she¡¯d choke on ¡®til it killed her.


    Tanya slumped, fan limp, her pride a bruised thing. She grabbed Celina¡¯s wrist¡ªdo it¡ªnails digging, a plea in the heat. Celina squeezed back, a grunt, a pact forged in grime. Tanya sagged, breath hissing out¡ªfine, your show¡ªand let go.


    ¡°Sir Aaron.¡± Celina¡¯s voice cut through, steady, dipped in respect she didn¡¯t fake. ¡°The Purple Rose¡ªwe want you. You and Amelia to be exact. To forge an Alliance with gold, ten centurian gold.¡±


    ¡®Ten centurian gold. Ten centurian. Say something, you fossil.¡¯ Lucy thought with pure shock. But Aaron¡¯s eyes stayed fixed on Celina, black and bottomless, like he was peeling her ribs open to count the lies in her heart.


    ¡°Three tasks,¡± Celina repeated, her voice steady but her left hand twitching¡ª¡¯tap, tap, tap¡¯¡ªagainst her thigh. A nervous tic she¡¯d learned to hide in back-alley negotiations. Not today. Today, her soul was a raw wound. ¡°You pick. You walk. No chains.¡±


    Henry snorted, a sound like gravel in a tin can. His calloused fists clenched¡ª¡¯350 gold a month to babysit this circus?¡¯¡ªbut he swallowed the words. Knights turned sell-swords didn¡¯t get to bark at kings, even fake ones.


    Tanya¡¯s fan snapped shut. ¡®Click.¡¯ A sound like a guillotine¡¯s blade. ¡°Generous, no?¡± Her smile was all teeth, a wolf sizing up a rival pack. But her free hand gripped Celina¡¯s wrist¡ª¡¯hard¡¯¡ªfingernails digging in like she¡¯d carve the offer into bone if she had to.


    Aaron leaned back, leather creaking. A laugh burst out of him, sudden and sharp, like glass shattering. ¡°Generous.¡± He rolled the word around, tasting it. ¡°You¡¯re not buying soldiers, ¡®Lady¡¯ Tanya. You¡¯re buying a war.¡±


    The air thickened. Even the cooling box seemed to hold its breath.


    Lucy¡¯s heart hammered. ¡®¡­¡­Shut up, shut up, shut¡ª¡¯ ¡°Mast¡ª¡± she blurted, then choked on the word. Aaron¡¯s glare pinned her like a bug. Her throat closed. ¡®¡­¡­ooooohhhhh.¡¯ The insults weren¡¯t his; they were hers, screaming in her skull.


    Celina stepped into the silence, a dagger wrapped in silk. ¡°War needs weapons. You¡¯re sharper than most.¡± Her gaze flicked to Amelia, still as a statue in the corner. The unspoken hung heavy: ¡®And she¡¯s the edge.¡¯


    Amelia¡¯s fingers twitched¡ª¡¯towards her sword? Or towards Atlas?¡¯¡ªbefore stilling. Her loyalty was a live wire, sparking.


    Aaron¡¯s smile died. ¡°Ten centurian.¡± He let the words drop, slow and heavy. ¡°For three favors. No leash.¡± A beat. ¡°But ¡®you¡¯ come to ¡®me¡¯.¡±


    Tanya¡¯s laugh was a silver blade. ¡°Done.¡±


    Celina¡¯s breath hitched. ¡®Too easy.¡¯ But she nodded, sealing it with a flick of her quill. The parchment bled ink like a fresh wound.


    Henry¡¯s knee slammed into Susi¡¯s¡ª¡¯thud¡¯¡ªagain. Again. The big man¡¯s whetstone screeched, metal singing a funeral dirge. ¡®This is wrong. This is¡ª¡¯


    ¡°Lucy.¡± Aaron¡¯s voice cracked like a whip. ¡°Details. Now.¡±


    She scrambled, tripping over her own feet. ¡°Y-yes, sir?¡± The title tasted like ash. ¡®Sir. Master. Dog.¡¯ Her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood.


    Celina¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡®This girl¡¯s half a heartbeat from shattering.¡¯ But she thrust the contract forward, all business. ¡°Sign here. Initial here. Binding oath¡ª¡±


    ¡°Save the theatrics.¡± Aaron¡¯s quill slashed through the paper, a violent ¡®X¡¯. ¡°I don¡¯t kiss nobles¡¯ feet.¡±


    Tanya¡¯s grin widened. ¡®Got you.¡¯ Her mind raced, already tallying the cost: ¡®Gold, favors, a foothold in the coming storm¡­¡¯ Her fan fluttered open, hiding the triumph. ¡°Pleasure doing business, ¡®Sir¡¯ Aaron.¡±


    The carriage hit a rut. Everyone jolted. Susi¡¯s blade slipped, slicing his thumb. Blood pooled, thick and dark. No one apologized.


    Aaron¡¯s eyes met Tanya¡¯s. A promise, or a threat? ¡°Don¡¯t make me regret this.¡±


    Tanya¡¯s laugh was pure poison. ¡°Oh, you will. But by then?¡± She leaned in, breath hot. ¡°You¡¯ll ¡®need¡¯ me.¡±

 Chapter 27: A kingdoms Garden.

    The city of Garden didn¡¯t just welcome them¡ªit swallowed them whole. The air was thick with life, green and wet like a jungle after rain. Trees clawed at the sky, their branches heavy with leaves that shimmered in shades of emerald and gold under the sun. Houses clung to the hillsides like barnacles on a shipwreck, built not to conquer but to coexist. And somewhere in the distance, the palace loomed¡ªnot as a fortress or monument, but as a quiet guardian of the land it covered. It wasn¡¯t tall, no spires kissing clouds here, but its sprawl was vast, greedy almost, claiming more than twenty percent of the kingdom¡¯s soil.


    Aaron stepped out of the carriage first, his boots crunching against gravel softened by moss. He breathed deep¡ªthe scent hit him like a punch to the gut. Earthy, alive, suffocating. Like being buried neck-deep in fertile ground while roots wrapped around your lungs. For anyone else, it might have been refreshing. To Aaron, it felt like mockery. A reminder that this place thrived where others starved; grew when others died.


    Tanya stood beside him now, her crimson dress billowing slightly in the breeze. She looked¡­ lighter. Happier. Her shoulders weren¡¯t weighed down by invisible chains for once. People flocked to her¡ªfarmers mostly, dirt-streaked hands reaching out to touch her hem, faces lined with smiles instead of worry. They called her name, shouted blessings, laughed as if she were already queen.


    ¡°Lady Tanya!¡± one man cried, gripping her hand tightly. His palms were rough, calloused from years of labor. ¡°We¡¯ve missed you so much! The crops are doing well this season, but they¡¯d do better with you watching over us!¡±


    She smiled softly, patting his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll visit the fields soon,¡± she promised, her voice carrying warmth Aaron hadn¡¯t heard before. ¡°For now, rest easy knowing I¡¯m home.¡±


    Elizabeth lingered near the back of the group, arms crossed, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. When Aaron caught her gaze, she scoffed loudly, deliberately turning away. Her disdain was a living thing, writhing between them like a snake. Aaron ignored her. Let her stew in whatever poison brewed inside her veins. He had bigger problems to deal with.


    Lucy, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with excitement. Ten centurian gold per month. That number looped endlessly in her head, a mantra she whispered to herself every time fear tried to creep in. She could finally breathe. Finally stop hustling until her bones cracked under the weight of desperation. But then Aaron handed her the list.


    ¡°Here.¡± His tone was flat, clinical. As if he were handing over a receipt rather than a death sentence.


    Lucy took the paper, her fingers trembling. One glance at the items listed made her stomach drop straight through her feet.


    ¡°Master¡­¡± she began, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°These items can only be found¡ª¡±


    ¡°In the black market,¡± Aaron finished for her, cutting her off without missing a beat. ¡°I know. Get to it now. And before you go, give Susi instructions on how to handle things while we¡¯re here. Got it?¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± Lucy hesitated, clutching the sheet like it might burst into flames. ¡°We still don¡¯t have the money in hand. It¡¯s still just a contract¡­¡±


    Aaron turned to face her fully, his golden eyes boring into hers like drills. There was no anger in his expression, no impatience. Just silence. A void waiting to swallow her whole.


    Figure shit out yourself, his stare said plainly.


    Lucy swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze despite the lump lodged in her throat. ¡°Okay¡­¡± she managed, her voice wavering before steadying. ¡°Consider it done, Boss. But¡­.. I also want to¡­. ask for one thing.¡±


    Aaron raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. ¡°What?¡±


    Her bow was so low her forehead nearly touched the ground. ¡°Please,¡± she begged, her words tumbling out in a rush. ¡°I know you know more about blood magic. Please, please, PLEASE teach me even an ounce of your great wisdom.¡±


    For a moment, Aaron said nothing. Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Not cruel, exactly, but sharp enough to draw blood. ¡°Huh¡­¡± he murmured, tilting his head thoughtfully. ¡°It seems you¡¯re adapting, Most demons held their pride to death¡­. Fine. I¡¯ll think about it¡­ ¡®after¡¯ you bring me the items I need. Alright?¡±


    ¡°YES MASTER!!!¡± Lucy shouted, loud enough to make birds scatter from nearby trees. Her enthusiasm was infectious, grating even, but Aaron let it slide. For now.


    The streets buzzed with activity. Farmers carted baskets overflowing with produce, children played tag between stalls, merchants shouted prices over the din. Everywhere Aaron looked, there was movement, sound, color. Life. Too much of it. It grated against his senses like nails on a chalkboard.


    He wandered away from the group, ignoring the protests of both Amelia and Henry. Neither followed him, though he could feel their eyes burning holes into his back. Good. Let them watch. Let them wonder what he was planning next.


    The marketplace stretched out before him, chaotic and sprawling. Stalls overflowed with goods: fresh fruits, cured meats, handcrafted tools, trinkets carved from bone. Vendors hawked their wares with practiced ease, voices rising and falling like waves crashing against rocks. Somewhere in the chaos, Aaron spotted a blacksmith hammering away at a glowing piece of metal. Sparks flew with each strike, illuminating the man¡¯s sweat-streaked face.


    Aaron stopped in front of a stall selling herbs. Dried bundles hung from strings tied across the frame, swaying gently in the breeze. Lavender, rosemary, thyme¡ªtheir scents mingled together, creating something almost pleasant. Almost.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°You lookin¡¯ for somethin¡¯, stranger?¡± the vendor asked, leaning forward with a grin missing several teeth. His hands were stained green from handling plants all day, his apron smeared with dirt and oil.


    Aaron shook his head. ¡°No.¡±


    The vendor shrugged, unfazed. ¡°Suit yerself. Lotsa folks come ¡®round here lookin¡¯ fer rare stuff. Yer loss.¡±


    Rare stuff. Aaron¡¯s lips twitched into a faint smile. Rare was relative. What these peasants considered exotic, he viewed as scraps. Still, there was potential here. Potential for leverage, for power. All it took was finding the right pieces and putting them together.


    ---


    Back at the estate, Lucy paced frantically, muttering to herself. The list burned in her pocket like a brand. Each item was a puzzle piece she couldn¡¯t quite fit together, a riddle she didn¡¯t know how to solve. How was she supposed to find these things? Where would she even start?


    Susi watched her from the corner of the room, sharpening his blade methodically. The rhythmic scrape of metal against stone filled the silence, steady and unyielding.


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up,¡± he commented dryly, not looking up from his work.


    Lucy shot him a glare. ¡°Shut up. You try figuring this out.¡±


    Susi shrugged, flipping the blade over to inspect the edge. ¡°Not my problem. You¡¯re the one who signed up for it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, thanks for the support,¡± Lucy snapped, throwing her hands in the air. ¡°Real helpful.¡±


    Susi grinned, showing teeth stained red from chewing leaves. ¡°Anytime.¡±


    Aaron entered his room, which smelled like damp wood and dried herbs, a scent that clung to the walls like memories too stubborn to fade. Aaron stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the fading light. Outside, the city of Garden sprawled below him¡ªtrees taller than cathedrals swayed gently, their leaves whispering secrets only they understood. The ember-laced air filled his lungs with every breath, grounding him, reminding him he was alive. For now.


    But life had a way of clawing back at you when you least expected it.


    Celina''s voice sliced through the quiet, sharp as broken glass. ¡°Aaron!¡± she called from the doorway, her tone laced with amusement but edged with something sharper¡ªcuriosity. Always curiosity. Mages were like that: insatiable, hungry for answers like starving dogs circling scraps.


    Aaron didn¡¯t turn around. He didn¡¯t need to see her face to know what she looked like¡ªher lips pressed thin, eyes narrowed just enough to mask the storm brewing behind them. She wasn¡¯t here to chat. She was here to pry.


    ¡°You know your ruse as a guard will only fall apart if your client starts bowing down to you,¡± she said, leaning casually against the doorframe. Her arms crossed over her chest, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on her bicep. ¡°And another client carries your luggage? What¡¯s next? A red carpet?¡±


    Aaron snorted, low and bitter. ¡°...... If I cared, yeah. But it seems I don¡¯t give a fuck about people and their shit called ¡­..what, opinions?¡±


    Celina giggled then, a sound both genuine and calculated. It grated against Aaron¡¯s nerves like nails on slate. She stepped closer, boots clicking softly against the wooden floor. Each step deliberate, measured. Like a predator circling prey¡ªor maybe just testing the boundaries of a cage.


    ¡°So about the deal,¡± He continued, undeterred by the silence. ¡°It¡¯s all well and done, right? If so, tell Tanya to hand it over to Lucy. Not me.¡±


    ¡°Ohhh... such trust. You know how much ten centurian gold is worth, right? If she ran away with that money, she could live an average wealthy life for the rest of her years.¡±


    He laughed then, a dark, hollow sound that echoed off the walls. It wasn¡¯t joy¡ªit was mockery. Mockery of himself, of her, of the absurdity of it all.


    ¡°Hahahaha... Yeah, don¡¯t worry. My trust towards her is already sealed in the deal. Our trust towards each other will never ever fade away. I made sure of that.¡±


    His gaze hardened, molten gold freezing into steel. ¡°Just make sure Tanya holds onto her promise.¡±


    Celina tilted her head slightly, studying him like a puzzle missing half its pieces. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about her. She¡¯s a woman of promises¡ªbut the payment might get delayed. She just ran toward the palace saying something about an emergency.¡±


    Aaron¡¯s jaw tightened imperceptibly. Of course. Tanya wouldn¡¯t waste time once she smelled blood in the water. Wars didn¡¯t wait for anyone, especially not kingdoms nestled among gardens and trees.


    ¡®It¡¯ll spread across the whole kingdom soon,¡¯ he thought, his mind racing ahead. ¡®Before panic starts spreading, I need to beat that shitty dragon fast.¡¯


    Celina¡¯s voice broke through his thoughts, soft yet probing. ¡°You¡¯ve got quite the reputation, you know. People talk. They say you¡¯re more than just some hired sword. That you¡¯re... different.¡±


    Aaron smirked faintly, though there was no humor in it. ¡°Different, huh? Funny thing about being ¡®different¡¯¡ªit usually means you¡¯re either worshipped or hunted.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. ¡°Which one are you?¡±


    ¡°Neither,¡± he replied flatly. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to survive.¡±


    Celina chuckled dryly. ¡°Survival doesn¡¯t look like this, Aaron. This looks like preparation¡ªpreparation for¡­.¡±


    He said nothing, letting the accusation hang between them like smoke after a firestorm. Celina leaned in slightly, her curiosity bubbling over into boldness. ¡°What happened before? Before you came here?¡±


    Aaron¡¯s hand twitched, fingers brushing absently against the hilt of his sword. Memories flickered in his mind like shadows cast by dying flames¡ªthe fertile lands scorched black, towering trees reduced to ash, a castle crumbling under the weight of his own fury. And Celina... Did she exist then? Or had he erased her without even realizing it?


    ¡°I destroyed it,¡± he muttered finally, his voice barely audible. ¡°All of it. Burned everything until there was nothing left.¡±


    Celina blinked, startled by the raw honesty in his words. ¡°Why?¡±


    He shrugged, feigning indifference, but his knuckles whitened where they gripped the windowsill. ¡°Because sometimes destruction is the only path forward.¡±


    For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched taut, heavy with unspoken questions and buried truths. Then Celina straightened, shaking off the tension like shedding a cloak. ¡°Well,¡± she said brightly, forcing levity into her tone, ¡°if you ever feel like sharing more, let me know. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, right?¡±


    Aaron shot her a sidelong glance, his lips curling into a faint smirk. ¡°Careful, mage. Too much curiosity might kill you for real.¡±


    She grinned, unfazed. ¡°Noted.¡±


    With that, she turned to leave, pausing only briefly at the threshold. ¡°Oh, and one last thing¡ªAmelia and Susi still need identity cards if you plan to keep them out of trouble while you¡¯re gone.¡±


    Aaron frowned, irritation flaring briefly before settling into resignation. ¡°Fine. Help them register at the Adventurer¡¯s Guild while I¡¯m out.¡±


    Celina perked up immediately, her interest piqued. ¡°Where exactly are you going?¡±


    Aaron hesitated, weighing his options. Finally, he met her gaze, his expression unreadable. ¡°Somewhere dangerous. Somewhere unavoidable.¡±


    Celina nodded slowly, accepting his cryptic answer without pressing further. Somehow, she knew better than to push him too far.


    As she walked away, her footsteps fading into the distance, Aaron exhaled sharply, letting the tension drain from his body. He glanced out the window again, watching the city below bask in the twilight glow. Garden was beautiful, yes¡ªbut beauty was fragile, fleeting. It always burned first when chaos arrived.


    And burn it would.