Elias jolted awake to the sensation of being slowly, thodically punched in the soul.
Not literally. Probably. But that was how it felt.
A deep, throbbing ache pulsed in the center of his chest—radiating outward like so overeager curse had decided to take up knitting and started stitching his nerves into a scarf.
He groaned, rolling onto his side. "Why does my everything hurt?"
His hand instinctively clutched his left palm.
The contract mark glowed.
Again.
He stared at it through half-lidded eyes. The runes shimred with a dull red hue, faintly pulsing in ti with sothing that definitely wasn't his heartbeat.
"Okay. Not ominous at all," he muttered.
From across the room, a sleepy voice mumbled, "Uncle Elias...?"
Rhea sat up on the little cot beside his, hair sticking out in all directions like she'd been electrocuted by affection. She rubbed her eyes, blinking blearily.
"You okay?" she asked.
"No," Elias said. "I'm being slowly digested by a magical tattoo. You?"
"I dread about a goat that stole the moon," she said, very seriously. "Then I turned it into cheese."
"...That sounds like a taphor."
"It wasn't. I was very upset."
Elias sat up slowly, trying not to look as dizzy as he felt. "Okay. So. Important question."
He held up his glowing hand.
"Did you, at any point during the night, maybe, accidentally siphon life energy from ?"
Rhea froze.
"...No?"
Elias raised an eyebrow.
She cringed. "I an, maybe a little."
"Rhea."
"I didn't an to! I was dreaming about cheese and my tummy felt empty and then my magic just... nibbled you."
"Nibbled?! That's not how magic should work!"
She wrung her hands, looking guilty. "I think the bond is getting deeper. You're, um... tasty."
Elias sighed and slumped back on the bed. "Fantastic. I've beco magical room service."
Rhea crawled off her cot and climbed up onto his bed, curling beside him like a particularly guilty kitten.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Elias looked down at her. Her horns were warm against his arm, her eyes glassy with worry.
He sighed again, softer this ti. "It's not your fault."
"Then whose is it?"
"...Magic's."
She blinked. "Can I punch it?"
"I'd pay to see you try."
They lay in silence for a while. His heartbeat slowed. The pain eased—just a little—as the mark dimd.
Rhea fiddled with the edge of his blanket. "Does it hurt bad?"
"Like being headbutted by a guilt-powered magical girl."
She pouted. "Should I... try to undo it?"
Elias hesitated. "I don't think that's possible. The contract's already bound. What we can do is figure out how to regulate it."
Rhea tilted her head. "Like a faucet?"
"Exactly like a faucet. One that leaks soul juice."
"I'll try really hard not to drink your soul juice."
"Appreciated."
She brightened. "I'll also give you chocolate as apology."
"...Even more appreciated."
Later That Day
They visited the local library—a cramped two-story cottage with more books than structural integrity and a librarian who communicated solely in grunts and disappointed sighs.
Elias flipped through dusty tos on demonic contracts and magical symbiosis while Rhea quietly reorganized an entire shelf by how "fun" the titles sounded.
"'Blood Oaths and You: A Beginner's Guide to Accidental Bonding,'" he read aloud. "Well, that's promising."
Rhea held up another book. "'How to Raise a Demon Without Getting Smote.' This one has pictures!"
"Perfect. Add it to the pile."
Hours passed. The scent of old parchnt and candle wax filled the room. Occasionally, the librarian coughed disapprovingly in their direction just to remind them she existed.
Elias discovered three important things:
1. Demonic bonds could deepen over ti, especially with emotional proximity.
2. Symbiotic magic relationships could result in shared energy pools.
3. If left unchecked, the bonded host might suffer fatigue, mana instability, or spontaneous sprouting of wings.
"Wait, wings?" Elias whispered.
"I want wings!" Rhea whispered back.
"You're not getting wings!"
"Why not?!"
"You already have enough appendages!"
They were promptly shushed by the librarian.
That Evening
Elias brewed so calming tea—chamomile mixed with a pinch of powdered mana suppressant. Not enough to nullify Rhea's power, just enough to keep any midnight soul-snacking incidents to a minimum.
She sat at the table, swinging her legs, watching him like a baby owl.
"Uncle Elias?"
"Hmm?"
"What if I... drain too much?"
He paused, setting the kettle down.
"Then I'll take a nap. And you'll bring snacks. Preferably that aren't on fire."
"I'm serious."
"So am I. This bond isn't one-way, Rhea. You're not just feeding on . You're trusting . That matters."
She blinked, eyes shining faintly. "You're not scared of ?"
"All the ti."
"...Really?"
"Oh yeah. But that's mostly because you once turned my socks into spiders in your sleep."
She giggled.
"But no," Elias continued, crouching beside her, "I'm not scared of you. You're a kid trying her best. And if this bond deepens, then we face it together."
Rhea's little hands reached up and squeezed his shoulders. "You're not a very good uncle."
"Excuse ?"
"You're more like a very tired big brother."
"...I'll take it."
Midnight Again
Elias stirred in bed.
The mark pulsed.
But this ti, instead of pain... he felt sothing else.
Warmth.
A connection. Clearer, stronger. He could feel her heartbeat—slow, steady, wrapped in his.
His magic reached hers gently, like a hand brushing against another in the dark.
No pain. No drain. Just... equilibrium.
He opened his eyes.
Rhea stood by the window, sleepwalking again.
But she wasn't muttering this ti.
She was singing.
Softly. In a language lost to mory.
A lullaby, maybe. Or a war hymn. He couldn't tell.
Her eyes glowed faintly. The world shimred around her.
Elias stood slowly, stepped forward, and placed a hand on her shoulder.
She blinked up at him.
"Did I... dream again?"
He nodded. "A little. You okay?"
She leaned into him. "Yeah."
They stood there in silence, stars twinkling beyond the glass.
The contract mark on his hand faded to a dull, steady glow.
Like it was breathing.
Alive.
Growing.
To Be Continued...
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