Cassian sat upright, still dazed, as the little demon girl stood nervously in the center of the room, twiddling her fingers.
She seed less afraid now—her eyes still wide but no longer filled with panic. In fact, her expression was quickly shifting to one of delight. Like she couldn’t believe she was talking to a real, living human.
"I’ve never seen one of you before," she said, tilting her head with curiosity. "You look so soft. I thought humans were covered in armor or scales or sothing..."
Cassian raised an eyebrow. "I’m not a lizard."
The girl giggled, and the sound echoed sweetly through the room. She looked to be around ten or eleven in human years, though in demon ti that could an anything. Her horns shimred faintly in the light, and her golden bell jingled again as she moved closer.
"My na’s Miri," she said proudly, puffing out her chest a little. "And my father is the Archdemon."
Cassian blinked. "The... Archdemon?"
She nodded so fast her curls bounced. "Yes! He’s really, really strong. Like—he could blow up a mountain without even moving. They say his magic touches even the stars."
Cassian stared.
Miri leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. "He’s very strict. And scary. But he’s also very kind to . That’s why I wasn’t supposed to co here, but since you’re under his protection now, I thought maybe... he wouldn’t mind if I just peeked."
She looked up with wide eyes, like she was asking for forgiveness after the fact.
Cassian didn’t know how to respond to any of that. Protection? Archdemon? Him?
"...Why would your father protect ?" he asked carefully.
She shrugged. "I don’t know. But if he co here to protect you, it ans you’re important. Father doesn’t bother with unimportant people."
Cassian sat back against the bed fra, his thoughts racing. Important? To the Archdemon? What the hell is going on here?
But Miri didn’t seem interested in the questions swirling inside his head. She was far more curious about him.
"So... what’s your na?"
"...Cassian."
"What do you do?"
"I lead a knight division."
"What’s that?"
"A group of people who fight bad things."
"Are you a bad person?"
Cassian paused for a mont. That question hit a little deeper than he expected.
"...I try not to be," he said at last.
Miri smiled brightly. "Good! I was scared at first, but now you seem nice. You haven’t set on fire yet!"
"...Why is that your standard for ’nice’?"
She skipped to the corner and grabbed a jug of water from a table, pouring another cup carefully—though her hands were so small, she nearly spilled it again.
"Here," she said, offering it to him. "Since I scared you earlier. You probably need this."
Cassian took it slowly, his fingers brushing hers as he did. Her hand was warm.
So it’s not a dream, he thought again.
He drank the water in one go, realizing how dry his throat had been. It was fresh and cool, and even the water had a faint sweetness to it. Everything in this place felt unfamiliar, yet oddly... gentle. Nothing threatening at all.
Just as Miri opened her mouth to ask another question, the sound of footsteps echoed from outside the door.
Miri froze.
Her eyes widened with panic, and she imdiately dropped into a crouch like a guilty cat caught stealing food.
"Oh no," she whispered. "Soone’s coming!"
She whirled around. "If they see here, I’m dead! Father will ground for a hundred days!"
Before Cassian could speak, she was already dashing for the opposite door.
But she didn’t quite make it.
Clunk!
Her forehead smacked into the edge of the arched doorway. She stumbled, letting out a small squeak, then rubbed her forehead fiercely as she bolted out—still holding her head and half-crying as she vanished down the hall.
Cassian stared after her, completely speechless.
Then, without aning to, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
What a strange little girl.
A few monts later, the main door opened with a soft creak.
A tall demon woman stepped inside, dressed in a long, dark gown with silver embroidery across the sleeves. Her face was calm, her eyes downcast with respect. She carried a folded bundle of fabric in her arms.
She didn’t speak until she reached the side of the bed and gave a graceful bow.
"Greetings, honored guest," she said softly. "I have brought fresh clothing for you. Your bath is prepared. After you change, your al will be served."
Cassian sat up straighter.
"Wait—can you tell —who brought here? The man from the temple—what’s his na?"
The maid didn’t react.
She bowed again, placing the clothes neatly beside the bed.
"I will return shortly with your al."
"Wait—"
But she was already walking out, her steps silent. The door closed behind her with a gentle click.
Cassian let out a frustrated breath.
He still had no answers.
But with nothing else to do, he got up and moved toward the area the maid had indicated—a side chamber with a smooth stone basin, steam rising gently from the water within. Gold fixtures poured heated water from carved dragon heads, and soft black towels lined the side bench.
He stripped down and bathed quickly, the warmth soothing his sore muscles. Afterward, he picked up the new clothes left for him.
The fabric was strange. Light and soft, but stronger than silk. The outfit had no vest—just loose pants and a long robe that draped over his body. The robe stayed mostly closed, but there was no shirt underneath. A single golden chain crossed diagonally from his shoulder to his waist, decorative but light.
When he was done dressing, he stood in front of a tall mirror.
And he had to admit... he looked different.
The robe flowed elegantly behind him, sleeves hanging slightly long and brushing his wrists. The deep, subtle colors of the fabric shimred faintly—gray, silver, a touch of twilight blue. His bare chest peeked out slightly from beneath the robe’s collar, frad by the gold chain.
He didn’t look like a soldier anymore.
He looked like...
Royalty.
Not the kind that ruled with swords or politics. No, this felt more gentle. Elegant. Like he belonged to so ancient court of spirits.
Cassian shook his head.
He didn’t know how, but he’d tied the robe perfectly, like his body rembered how it was worn. That only unsettled him more.
When he returned to the main room, he was surprised to find a table set near the window—low, with cushions placed beside it. A large silver platter sat on top, covered with steam and warm aromas.
Cassian sat down slowly and lifted the lid.
His brows rose.
The food... didn’t look alien at all.
There was a bowl of rice, roasted root vegetables, slices of so soft white at drizzled with light sauce, and a clear broth that slled of herbs. It all looked familiar—but not exactly. The vegetables had slightly different shapes, and the at didn’t resemble any he knew. Still, it was carefully made.
He hesitated, then took a bite.
And blinked.
Delicious.
The flavors were subtle but rich, balanced with care. Whoever made this had gone out of their way to match human tastes.
Cassian ate everything.
Not a single scrap was left when he was done.
And as he leaned back with a sigh, stomach finally satisfied, his mind returned to the one thing he still didn’t understand.
Who is the man that brought here?
And more importantly...
Why does he feel so familiar?
Reviews
All reviews (0)