“What do you mean I’m a half-demon?” Kira’s jaw dropped incredulously when Valendor made it clear he wasn’t joking. “I mean, wouldn’t I be able to teleport or control shadow tendrils or perform dark magic or something remotely shadowy?”

  “Firstly, [Teleportation] and [Shadow Shifting] work on different principles,” The Lord of Night almost pinched his nose bridge in exasperation at the crude spell descriptions. “And that’s exactly the question I want to ask,”

  “Do you have any relatives who possess demonic blood?”

  “None that I know of,” Kira started thoughtfully. “But my mother died when I was born. I’m a bastard child you see. According to my dad, I’m their only child; me and my brothers are only related on my dad’s side. Maybe she’s the one with demon ancestry?”

  “I sense a hint of your demon bloodline, it is but the barest sliver however, so I’m not too surprised that you had no idea,” The Lord of Night mused aloud. “Logically, your bloodline’s weakness prevented any physical manifestations, hence your completely mundane human appearance.”

  “Do you think it's strong enough for me to at least learn a shadow oriented spell?” Kira bit her lip apprehensively, glancing at the Night Warden hopefully. “I did successfully summon you with my hidden shadow affinity…I’m sorry by the way, hope you’re not still mad about it,” She shamefully shrunk into a ball.

  The Lord of Night felt a twinge of annoyance but otherwise let the cool night breeze take his sullen thoughts away. He acknowledged that he was lucky: anyone else could’ve summoned him just as easily as little Kira did, and he could’ve ended up enslaved to a random cultist or even in the service of a demon—which would’ve been supremely bad luck as there were no doubt either of the two would’ve known how to fully abuse and exploit the freaking Shadow Pillar. Milking their gold cow for all its worth. Probability of escape, and free donuts, would’ve dropped exponentially in the hands of the experienced heretical demons.

  The Lord of Night realised with a pang of hurt, that he no longer thought of demons as ‘his demons’, instead replacing them in his head as ‘the demons’. It pained him for his mind to betray their close relationship. But truthfully, the violence and depravity the demons now indulged in, made them unrecognisable to him: the Lord of Night’s once faithful aides were no more. And this scared him, his demons were one of the only living reminders of the world before…but they were not his demons anymore. His demons would never have started a war. They wouldn’t have done these blasphemous actions.

  The Lord of Night, with difficulty, shook off his unease and turned to the girl, ironically an unlikely saviour.

  “It depends on how well you are able to grasp the fundamental concepts of the elemental aspects of shadow,” The Lord of Night huffed when Kira’s face tightened in disappointment. “Worry not little one, I’ll make sure you’re up to snuff as an agent of shadow serving the Lord of Night himself. It will not do for a weakling to sully his divine honour…well more than it is already,”

  “Even if you are incapable of learning shadow spells, I will pass on some of my Skills. At very least, your soul is compatible. We can also try awakening the innate Talent in your bloodline,” The Lord of Night’s antlers glinted when he tilted his head, deep in thought. Perhaps it might be useful.

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  Kira could barely contain her excitement, her glee bubbling over the side in the form of half laughing and half choking on her saliva.

  “Oh, thank you Valendor!” She jumped up ecstatically, branch crackling ominously. Kira wiped away tears of joy and relief. “You’re too kind to me Valendor, sir! Oh, I wish I could hug you right now!”

  “Yes, yes.” Valendor muttered dryly, making a shooing motion. “Now be a good girl and go back to sleep. We’ll talk again another day.”

  …

  Kira skipped happily back to bed, humming a cheery tune. All things considered, even falling off the tree innumerable times, it was quite a productive night.

  She found the protection she seeked, although not in the form she originally thought, and more importantly, although unexpectedly—a new meaning to life. Kira felt it deeply: the blessing, it was like taking a refreshing dip into a cool pool on a hot summer day. The coolness flowed through her, grounding and elevating her spirits. She didn't realise how badly she needed the guidance and clarity of mind before receiving it.

  She could sense a strong presence, as if the heavens acknowledged her. She felt as if she was seen for who she was for the first time and she delighted in the importance that it gave.

  The oath settled around her soul as a ring of mana, it did not feel restrictive to her however, like people said it would. Kira did feel a certain weight to her soul now. She supposed it was only right that the Lord of Night’s protection had a cost, as everything does.

  And now that she had certain responsibilities, Kira didn’t feel daunted by it, but rather rejuvenated and she actually looked forward to following Valendor in executing the Shadow Pillar’s divinely bestowed mission.

  Kira glanced back to the lone figure atop the tallest tree, darkly silhouetted against the bright moon, playing his violin in a soft lullaby. And she gave a silent promise to the kind Night Warden for taking her under his wing, eternally grateful, before slipping into her tent.

  …

  Bob raced down a dark underground hallway, illuminated only by weak purple flames on sconces placed every few feet from each other.

  He paused and clumsily gathered his long black robes in a fist after stepping and tripping on them again. There was much to complain about their cult’s impractical uniform, but Bob was too indisposed: the High Priest was to receive a high priority message from their Soulseers. Bob had once again drawn the short stick, and had been promptly dragged out of his bright, clean lab and was locked out until the higher ups deemed that the coast was clear of angry High Priests. He was always unlucky like that. From accidentally joining the cult to being reduced to a messenger of a trigger-happy psychopath, of whom was known for a special penchant of blasting messengers with bad messages.

  Yay him.

  Bob paused briefly to catch his breath in front of a surprisingly normal oak door, and a terse rap on said door later, revealed a surprisingly normal office for a surprisingly deranged man.

  “Speak, my dear boy.” The High Priest looked up and smiled, more like a lurid leer in Bob’s opinion, but he never had the guts to say. Nobody did.

  He averted his eyes both out of respect and fear. “Bob Brown reporting, my Lord: Soulseer Damian had sensed a disruption in the abyss.”

  “So…the Dark Lord has finally awakened from his slumber,” The High Priest spoke in a serpentine whisper, laced with mana so thick, Bob fought hard not to shiver as that unholy voice caressed him in all the wrong ways.

  “Bob, my dear child, this is great news,” The High Priest stood slowly, donning a plain black mask shaped like an oval with a single jagged rune inscribed in blood red ichor: the rune of death. “Gather the Cult of the Hollow King. This is the perfect time to summon the Dark Lord. We must prepare for our great god’s arrival, post haste!”

  Bob gulped in trepidation. Evil god summonings always go wrong.