"-So bless it be."

He unclenched his hands after waiting in silence for another second and feeling nothing, save for the warm feeling in his chest. That, he had concluded, was likely the hope burning in him, trying desperately to keep him afloat. A thankless task.

Gellron hadn't even answered him when he'd asked to stop and pray, so he had done it while moving, rolling the dice on his luck that he wouldn't fall over a stone or his own feet while doing so.

Gellron…

Family wasn't something Danadrian had ever put much thought into. When it had first crossed his mind, weeks ago now, though it felt like months, he had dismissed it as a unique, but ultimately mortal concept. Now, though, he was putting a lot more effort into understanding it.

He supposed it was a hard concept for an Angelica, even a Fallen one like him, to wrap their head around unless they'd spent a lot of time amongst the other races. Mayare may fit the role of their 'mother' cleanly, and they might consider each other brothers and sisters in some sense. And there was also the… the-

There were others he recalled filling the role of the older siblings, but the analogy started to strain the more you looked at it. They might have all been made by Mayare's hand, but that hardly equated to being born from her, and there was no blood in their veins that declared them all as one cohesive unit. He knew that was always a big factor amongst Humans. Whose blood was whose, if the child was really his, one's loyalty to their bloodline. It went on and on.

He was going on a tangent. The point was that they weren't a family, at least not that he could remember. They were an Order and a people, united through faith and service. But not a family.

Which went a long way in explaining why Gellron and Alleria were both a confusing and concerning look into the mortal familial dynamics he'd begun remembering.

It was clear that something had happened between the two of them and their parents that had torn their family asunder. Gellron blamed Alleria for it, and Alleria… she seemed to share the sentiment.

It doesn't justify the way he treats her.

In the face of hardship and tragedy, would a family not look to each other for comfort? Well, if one of them were directly involved in said event, that may mar things. Then again, how deep was the bond of blood at that point, really?

He watched the back of the Demon, still deciding to lead them in their advance, though he'd never asked for permission.

Faithful to his beliefs, yet so callous and bloodthirsty.

He had been ready to kill him without a second thought, and the chilling realisation Danadrian had come to was that he could have, easily. If being cut by the blade he carried meant death without fail, he was more of a danger than Keleiva or Brakenus were.

And that wasn't even touching on his own abilities, which, if memory served, Alleria had claimed to be the stuff of pure destruction and ruin. Fitting, really, for a house named for their wrath.

He glanced up at the ceiling, already unstable enough that it might cave in given enough damage. If Gellron decided to use his sorcery on the Demon Hunters or them, he might very well bring the whole place down on them shortly after.

He shook the thought from his head and focused on the Demon in front of him again. He needed to understand how he worked, how he moved, how he fought, if there came a time that he clashed blades with him again.

No…

He glanced back at Alleria, who was close behind him. Despite her injuries having healed, she was still the slowest amongst them, likely owing to the energy she'd expended just to be able to walk properly again. Her chin had lifted slightly, and from behind her bedraggled hair, he glimpsed some determination in her amber eyes. But they were still downcast, and he noticed the way she avoided looking in one place too often. In Fordain, he had chalked it up to paranoia, and perhaps it had been, but right now it looked closer to a coping mechanism.

Her gaze locked with his for a second, and he thought he caught a small smile playing on her lips. He hoped she might muster one, if only to ease his concern, but she slipped away, and with her so did it.

No, there was no if when it came to battling Gellron. The question was simply when. And the when of their inevitable confrontation gnawed at him constantly, whether at the forefront of his mind or lingering in the backdrop. It was always there.

He slowed his pace enough that Alleria caught up with him. She glanced at him.

"What is it?"

"How are you feeling? Physically, I mean."

She tapped her knee. "The skin's still a bit raw, and it feels like I'm swimming against the current sometimes, but I'm walking, aren't I? Beats being carried everywhere."

"I imagine most people would enjoy such an experience. Being carried places has to be better than walking; we make horses do it all the time."

She snorted. "In another time and place, especially another place, it might have been. But I find the existential dread and darkness to put a downer on my enjoyment. That and the broken legs."

He winced. "Does it feel that bad? I mean, I know that the feeling of breaking your legs has to have been excruciating-"

"We get used to it. It's not like breaking bones or getting stabbed ever stops feeling awful, but… getting a splinter in your finger also hurts, but I doubt a carpenter will keep complaining about them after fifteen years, you know? Anyway, healing the wounds has always felt a bit unpleasant."

"How so?"

"Well… imagine feeling all the little bones in your legs pulling themselves back together, then snapping into place. One after the other, slowly and carefully. Meanwhile, it's all you can do to not pass out from the effort."

Ah. Well, when she puts it like that… the upsides are still far up there, though. What I wouldn't give to be able to heal myself.

Well… in theory, he could. He stole a glance down at his hand and flexed it. Light Magic was one of only two schools that could heal bodily wounds, the other being Nature Magic, but he still hadn't quite figured out how to get it to work. And by quite, he meant he hadn't got close at all.

He winced as he felt a cut on his body, one of several, that he'd had to cover with scrapes of cloth from his tunic.

"I think you should be a bit more grateful, Alleria. Most people can't forgo sleep for days on end and keep going like normal, and I know for a fact that breaking your legs would be more closely described as a 'life-threatening event' and not a minor inconvenience."

"I never said it was a minor inconvenience. And Humans have magic to solve their problems, we're just evening the scale."

"Only a select few can even learn to perform magic, on of those select few, even fewer choose to learn the art of healing. And what about the sleeping part?"

She shrugged. "They could get it to work. All it takes is a little practice."

He chuckled softly, and that got a slight grin to ripple across her face.

"Anyway, I'm pretty sure I've seen you go quite a while without adequate rest. And taken wounds that would leave 'lesser beings' debilitated."

He raised a finger. "And after that, I pass out for Light only knows how long, and my every muscle and fibre wishes I would just die already. It's adrenaline, that moment where the stakes are high or the battle is reaching its climax, and you just have to move, have to keep on fighting. If not for your sake, then for the sake of those around you, who are counting on you."

She opened her mouth, presumably to give a quippy response, but was cut off by another voice.

"The way you speak of battle is flawed, Lightbringer."

Gellron had briefly paused ahead of them, pulling him back within earshot of their conversation. The moment he spoke, Alleria went silent, but she didn't flinch or shake. And most importantly, she didn't run away.

Well done.

But Danadrian just narrowed his eyes.

"Elaborate. I believe I'm correct in my assessments."

"You would believe that. If you fight only for the sake of others and survive only through the pump of adrenaline, then you are no warrior."

He felt his brow furrow even further, but he spoke in a calm, clear voice. "For what other reason is there to fight? If it isn't to defend others, then how about to defend yourself? To defend something you believe in?"

Gellron raised a hand and ran it through his hair. Then he continued to respond, without turning even an inch to look them in the eyes.

"I can give you as many reasons as there are stars in the sky. Glory, money, rage, vengeance, but those are all second to the truest of callings." He turned his head enough for his one amber eye to meet Danadrian's own. "For the sake of fighting itself. To fight just to feel that adrenaline you dismissed so flippantly."

Oh. Now he saw it more clearly. Not simply skilled with the blade and ruthless towards those he deemed his enemies, but a warrior, a true warrior. The sort that revelled in the thrill of battle, who sought it out for that reason alone. Unafraid to put themselves at risk, and uncaring for those they endangered.

In war, they were indispensable for both sides, able to shift the tides of battle singlehandedly. But in times of peace, or in regions where war was not so commonplace, they had a different name for people like him.

Killers.

He hadn't been sure, he couldn't have been sure until that very moment, but when he stared into the eyes of the Demon in front of him, he knew with absolute certainty… he had met men and women like him before. He had faced men and women like him before. And he had killed men and women like him before.

And I will do it again if I must. Damn Talradians, damn Demons, if someone like this is let loose on the world, it will lead only to the death and madness he craves.

It sent a chill down his spine, a chill that didn't vanish as their gaze broke and he turned away without another word. The distance between them widened again.

"…like that."

He shook his head. "Pardon?"

Alleria drew closer to him, rubbing one of her hands. She'd clenched it till it was red.

"They are all like that. House Wrathius. There are no wars in Demagain, but even before Talradius, they train themselves in preparation for one."

"Why? What on Andwelm could drive an entire group of people to dedicate themselves to needless slaughter?"

She raised a hand and ran it through her horns. 'Through' might be the wrong word, but it passed through the edges of it, her fingers slipping in and out like a dolphin amongst the waves.

"These horns, their colour, our Houses, they're more than just a denomination or grouping. They influence who we are, and we influence it. But the largest influences of all come from the Demon Lords, and Lord Wrathius' temper has shaped his House to its core."

He shook his hand. "No one man should hold that sort of influence."

"We aren't talking about a man, Danadrian. We're talking about a being closer to the gods than either you or I. Before the Destruction, House Wrathius needed an outlet for all their rage and power. They found their answer in the art of war and combat."

"It's sickening."

Ahead of them, he swore he saw a flinch from him.

Must be the light, whatever little there is, playing tricks on me.

Because, he thought, if Gellron found real reason to be more than just annoyed with him, things would get bloody very quickly.

"What about you, Alleria?"

"Hm? My House?"

"Yes. What makes the House of Demon Lord Elevar different to the rest? Are you all influenced by his desires and predispositions as well?"

He was attempting to be a bit light-hearted, but to his surprise, Alleria glared at him and stamped on his foot.

"Ow, what the-"

"Lord Elevar is a she, I'll have you know. And no, we aren't as battle-starved as Wrathius or as obsessive as Prydin. If there's anything we pride ourselves on, it's our diverse range of skills and our adaptability. You'll always find a Demon of House Elevar wherever you go, whether that's the high halls of Ardastine or your local pasta place down on 3rd Street."

"It sounds like you would hold many positions of power or influence then. Lot's of your family in the government? Or, however you run it in Demagain."

She snorted, swatting away a spiderweb in her way. Naturally, as was the case with everything in this dungeon, there was no spider to be seen. "Hardly. What's that pleasant Human phrase? Jack of all trades, master of none. We have enough variance to be everywhere, but not enough expertise to be important anywhere. And my House is not my family. That isn't how it works."

He sensed a bitter sting to her words when he said that, and he wisely, he felt, chose not to open the topic of family to her, so he instead he just shrugged, "Some might say that it's better to be an expert of many than a master of one. Like you said, it makes you more fluid and versatile. House Wrathius may be good in a fight, but I'm not sure they would be much use in any other scenario."

Again, another possible twitch in front of them.

She smiled, "I appreciate that. And in combination with our sorcery, I can say from experience that we can put up an exactly even fight against the aforementioned master of one."

They continued walking in silence. He supposed it would be safer for Gellron if he stuck closer to them, especially if they came across anymore spells, but he didn't think know if the Demon might take it as posturing, and as much as both his gut and instincts wanted to provide him with protection, his mind told him that if a stray Light spell went his way, he wouldn't be that torn up about it.

His mind also told him that the likelihood of him being torn up by one of them was not to be betted on.

He reached into his backpack and took a sip from his waterskin. There was one question resting on the tip of his tongue that he needed to express, and after a few more minutes of chewing on it, he turned back to Alleria.

"Lord Elevar is a woman?"

She immediately began rubbing the gap between her eyes, which was a bit uncalled for. "Yes, Lord Elevar is a woman. You worship Mayare. How is this an important point for you?"

"It just threw me off a little. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with it. I was just confused because you called them the six Demon Lords, and I assumed that meant they were all male. Wouldn't she be one of the Demon Ladies, then?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not what they're called, idiot. They are called 'the Demon Lords of Demagain' because they are 'the Demon Lords of Demagain,' not 'the Demon Lords and a few Ladies of Demagain. They were the first to be created by Slathir's own hands."

She cleared her throat and continued, this time reciting.

When the land was whole and the world was young,

seven Demon Lords were born, with the hands of the Lonely Son.

And after giving to them all a luxurious, immortal life,

hand-in-hand, he made for each of them an immortal Demon Wife.

"Everyone learns that poem in school. Does that explain it well enough for you?"

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

He stared at her, a trickle of water dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.

"A wife. They were each of them given a wife. And the Houses of Demons are descended from them."

"He created them, but yes, that was the intention. What's wrong now?"

He cleared his throat. He wiped the water away. Then cleared his throat again.

"How exactly… how does House Elevar exist if your Demon Lord is female, and so is her consort? As in… physically, how did that happen?"

She stared at him, her eyes a little unfocused, "What are you talking about? We were born from the union of Souls between them, just like all Demons. What, Humans don't do it that way?"

"…not that I am aware of."

"Huh. Well, you learn something new every day. What about you, Danadrian?"

He flinched and looked away. "What do you mean, what about me?"

She lowered her voice, "I meant Angelica. How do your people… reproduce?"

He was aware that a blush was creeping over his face, but at mention of Angelica, he looked sharply over at Gellron. He didn't seem to have reacted, though, if he had heard her, and was far enough away that he could have missed it.

"I… we do not reproduce at all, Alleria. We are a set number created by Mayare at the dawn of the world, or not long after. There is… there is something else, but…"

It was escaping him, drifting into the endless void. He would be lying to himself to say that he had long since become accustomed to information he thought he should know vanishing in an instant, or lines of inquiry having no satisfying conclusion, but it still stung. It would always sting, regardless.

But why does some of it return?

Questions that still had yet to reveal their answers.

She patted his shoulder, "Hey, don't sweat it. Is there anything else you remember? Details, I mean. And not the usual religious jargon, please."

A vein throbbed at that comment. "Well, there are the High Angelica. They are the highest members of my Order and the first to be brought into this world. I can't remember much beyond that. Not even their names."

"High Angelica… I think I remember a few. Lordemath, Giver of Gifts, uh, Sacereta, Beholder of Knowledge. They all have names like that, right?"

"Those… should sound familiar, but I confess I'm drawing a blank. Ironically, you may know more about them than I. You have never elaborated on how you know so much about the Church of the Light."

"I… um…" she stole a glance ahead of them, then nodded. "My mother used to tell me stories."

She never elaborated, but as her words filtered down the passageway, Gellron came to a full stop again, and this time turned to face them. Danadrian wasn't sure what sort of expression was on his face and stepped ahead to block his path to Alleria. Surprisingly, however, he did not try to get past and instead stopped dead in front of him.

"Earlier, you named House Wrathius and Elevar. She has educated you?"

Not sure I appreciate the way you're saying it, but sure.

"A little. A few bits here and there. Your culture interests me."

"Don't think I've ever heard a Lightbringer show interest in us for any reason other than to condemn our Souls."

"You come across men and women of my faith often, then?

"Sometimes."

"When we are free of this place, I'd love for you to point me in their direction. I have many personal matters I would like to discuss with them."

"Of course. Unfortunately, our conversations often got bloody once they realised what I was, so I doubt their grave markers would be of much use to you."

His hands had begun balling themselves the longer their conversation went, but now his fingers were digging so hard into his uncovered left hand that he might break the skin soon. He took a deep breath.

"What about me offends you, Gellron? And I don't mean in general, I can give a hundred reasons for you to hate me in general, but what have I done now that pushes you the wrong way? Is it simply my existence, or the way I breathe and walk?"

He was keenly aware of how close his hand rested to his sabre, but he didn't think he was ready to draw it on him. There was no reason, right? What had he done to-

Oh.

The reason never came to him, but as he got closer to the Demon, he saw a light burning in his eyes. The light of pure, unbridled rage; all of it directed at him.

"She has educated you," he repeated. "And yet when you talk of the Demon Lords of Demagain, you referred to only six. Six, when you know there to be seven."

Huh. Now that he mentioned it, he had referred to six, and he only remembered six names, roughly, that Alleria had ever brought up. But in that kid's poem, she'd spoken of the 'seven Demon Lords.'

He glanced left to Alleria, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. Now what was that about?

Gellron noticed his attention shift and likewise turned. "So, she hesitated to provide you with the name of the truest Demon Lord of them all." He scoffed, "Typical, she never could stomach the teachings. Too weak-willed."

She was struggling to face him, but he saw her clench her fist and turn.

"There's more to life than that, Gellron. You know that-"

He ignored her and kept on talking like she hadn't said anything at all, "Let me engrave it in your mind then, lest you forget."

He drew his sabre, and Danadrian immediately backed away, reaching for his own. Alleria flinched beside him, her hand instinctively reaching for her own undrawn blade. Good, she was getting better at that.

But Gellron didn't advance on him or even move his sword any further. Instead, he tilted it so the flat of the blade was facing him, glowing that subtle, unnatural blue.

"Engrave this image in your mind, Lightbringer, because one day it will come for you and every Human that walks Andwelm. Engrave this, and the name of Lord Lustravias, greatest and highest of all the Seven, for when his armies march, he will march with us. And your lands will quake, and that which follows will make Talradius pale in comparison. Remember."

He spun away, and at that very moment, Danadrian saw a bright light appear at the end of the passageway. He raised one hand as the other reached for his blade, his mouth open in a wordless warning. A halberd formed of Light spun out in front of them.

Gellron didn't so much as flinch.

He stepped to the side and met the glowing armament with his own. But instead of a clang you would expect, a thin hissing sound filled the air. The halberd lost all momentum and stopped in the air. Then, piece by piece, it began to dissolve, slowly at first, then all at once. Danadrian watched as it broke apart into pure mana, before that drifted into the vortex surrounding the blade of the sabre.

Silence.

The Demon didn't look back at them. He just sheathed his blade and continued walking, as if the last few seconds had not occurred. The nonchalance of it broke him out of his trance, and he immediately spun to look at Alleria.

"That- he… could you-"

Could you have done that the whole time?

His unspoken question seemed to reach her, because her face grew foul and she looked away. She took a few steps forward, looking to escape, but upon seeing Gellron, her movement faltered, and she glanced back at him.

Finally, she muttered quietly, "I'm sorry."

. . .

They stopped for the 'night' a few hours later, at a crossroads between two passages containing another one of the pools of water. One of the few reasons they were even still alive.

Gellron clearly didn't like having to entrances to monitor, so he eventually settled near the fountain, where he was able to glance at both sides easily. Danadrian, for his part, chose to put himself as far away from him as possible. He found a comfortable corner to sit in, somewhat, and a barely edible piece of root to chew on. He didn't want to risk too many fires, making them easier to track.

After that delicious meal was cleared, and he'd spent a suitable time looking enviously at whatever sustenance Gellron pulled out for himself, he rested his sword beside him and pulled his cloak around to act as a blanket.

The fact that it was missing key parts made it about as useful acting as a blanket as it was currently as a cloak.

He clasped his hands together. "To Mayare, Lady of Light and Life, consider my words as your sworn servant. Give me the strength to keep going and the will to do what I must, so that in your name I may triumph. May the Light aid all in need of its protection. Bless it be."

Something shifted next to him. When he opened his eyes, he found Alleria sitting quietly beside him. Her cloak had also been drawn close around her feet, but like his was so destroyed it barely fit to be called one.

She didn't say anything, and neither did he. Instead, he just arched his head to look upwards, imagining that he was staring at the Light again, remembering the feeling of the Sun's rays on his face, the warmth, the subtle touch of fresh air.

He sniffed, and the memory vanished. The cold, stone, dark dungeon returned with its unforgiving nature and lifelessness. A broken shell. A memory left in the dust of a forgotten people.

"…think they're listening?"

"Sorry?"

Alleria looked up at him. "When you pray, do you think they're really listening?"

He sighed, rubbing a hand against the back of his head. "I hope that they will listen to me. And I believe that someone is hearing me. I don't know if that's Mayare, Elnuway, Delassie, Chalador, or someone else. But isn't that comforting enough, to know you're not alone? To know that someone, somewhere, is paying attention to you?"

Alleria closed her eyes. "You know, sometimes you can barely string a sentence together, and other times you speak with such clarity and absolute confidence, I hardly know which is really you anymore. It's just praying in the end."

"Praying is our way of connecting with the Gods. You should try it sometime."

"No gods of yours want to hear my voice, Danadrian… and neither do mine."

"Then choose another. There are many, and your voice will be one amongst millions. I doubt they will mind that much."

She didn't respond. He turned his head and saw her chest rising and lowering gently.

"So much for the insurmountable energy of Demons."

. . .

She dreamed of screams. She dreamed of memories. She dreamed of things she never wanted to see again. And more than anything… she dreamed of her family.

"Mother, why are my horns different to brother's?"

Her mother's smile was bright and warm, like the sun. She parted her long black hair with one hand as the other held Alleria close to her. "Because Gellron is of Wrathius, like your father. You, my dearest, are of Elevar, like me. You know this."

"But he's my brother. We're family, how can we be of different Houses?"

"It's the way of our world, Aly. But the colour of our horns doesn't make us any less of a family."

She rested her head on her mother's lap, where she began playing with her hair. "What about you and dad. Families aren't supposed to argue with each other."

Her mother's hand paused for a moment, but then continued stroking her. "You and Gellron have argued quite a lot recently. I seem to remember that the latest source was… who got to eat the leftovers from dinner?" Alleria blushed, but her mother just chuckled. "People argue, siblings argue, couples argue. It is as constant to this world as the autumn leaves falling and the snow settling in for the winter."

She grumbled. Her mother must've been mistaken, or at least making that up. There was no snow in Demagain, save for at the peaks of the Ended Mountains. And that snow never came down. What was winter, anyway?

"So it has nothing to do with your horns? That you're both from different Houses?"

Her mother was silent again, as if considering her words. When she began speaking, her tone was softer and her voice quiet.

"Aly, do you want to hear a story?"

She nodded.

"I've told you about Andwelm before, the realm that exists beyond our borders, an entire world teaming with life. Well, in that world, they say that there is a powerful force that guards it from evil, that allows all its inhabitants to bathe in its endless glow. That's the Light."

"I know this, you've told me this story so many times," she grumbled, but her mother just tapped her forehead, again and again, until she started giggling.

"Do you want to hear this story, or should I stop?" When she didn't answer her, her mother continued. "It is said that the Goddess of the Light has many followers, but chief amongst them are the Angelica, the Guardians of the Light. And chief amongst them are the High Angelica."

"High Angelica? What do they do? What makes them more special than regular Angelica?"

Her mother tapped her nose. "They are the Goddess's champions. They help Andwelm and its people when they are most in need. Now, will you let me finish my story, Aly?"

She nodded. Her mother cleared her throat. "So, they say that once, long ago, a group of Humans were at odds with one another. They were from the same race of people, but you see, years of living apart had made them practically strangers to one another. They spoke differently, they looked different, they dressed differently. And when they encountered each other once more, animosity began to take root, as it so often does."

"It became such a problem that the leaders of their people met each other, presumably to open channels to find common ground. Instead, each man sized the other up, and when the moment was right, lunged for one another, looking to end the life of their perceived rivals."

Alleria gasped, clapping her hands to her mouth. "No!"

"Oh yes. People can be strange sometimes, and none more so than Humans. Regardless, it looked to be a bloody affair that, regardless of its outcome, would likely lead to war between the two groups. However, before either lead had met the other's blade, they were stopped in their tracks by a High Angelica."

This was getting interesting! She sat with rapt attention, waiting for this tale to end in a great duel with the Angelica, for there to be magic and honour and all the other things that made stories of Humans so interesting.

Instead, her mother smiled coyly, no doubt noticing her expression. "The High Angelica's name has been lost to the ages, but when he fell from the air in a beam of Light, it was clear it all who he was and what he represented. With his bare hands, he held back the two leaders, demanding that they cease their duel. And what could they do but oblige him?"

"He wanted to understand why they hated each other, what had brought them to seek the blood of a people who, in his eyes, he was as one. He let each of them give him an explanation, justify their case before him like he was the judge and they the defendants. And when they were done, he thought long and hard on how he could resolve their issues."

"What he did was this. He asked each of them to swap places with the other. For one week, they would be put in their counterparts' shoes and experience life amongst their 'enemies,' as they saw them. When they argued that they'd be putting themselves in danger, he promised that, so long as he was around, he would see no harm befall them in that week.

Alleria was… well, disappointed was putting it mildly. Where was the action, the grand showdown between heroes, the magic and flair? What was so interesting about this story that her mother felt it was important enough to remember?

"They eventually agreed to humour his ruling and parted ways for their week abroad. Neither believed it would amount to much, except for discomfort and boredom. But the Angelica saw it differently, and he watched them both with interest. And there, from the skies above, he saw them realise the same thing he had in but a moment… they weren't so different."

"Sure, they spoke differently, and their food was cooked spicier, and their clothes were thicker, but their mannerisms? The way they went about their day-to-day lives? It was so utterly normal to those two men that within days they had fallen into the same routine they would have back home."

"So when the week was up and they met once more with the Angelica, it was agreed that there would be peace between them, for so long as their people lived in those lands." She smiled. "The End."

Alleria blinked, "That's it?"

"Yes. Were you expecting a little more?"

"I was expecting a lot more," she grumbled to herself. "What was the point of that story, anyway? They were the same in the end, so everyone made up and were friends till the end of time. The End?!"

Her mother grabbed her ear. "Watch the tone, young lady. The point of the story was that they reconciled in the end, but that they were never different from each other to begin with. No matter their differences, a people are still a people, and family is still family. There's nothing else more sacred in this world." She released her. "Now run along, I'm sure your brother is dying to try sparring with you again."

Alleria got up and scrambled for the door. She turned to wave to her mother.

"Mother-"

The dream dissolved around her, her home vanishing in a puff of smoke, then reappearing again. Only this time it was dark, the sun was gone and the moon was out. She wandered back from the bathroom, eyes groggy. A little older now, but hardly wiser. If she had been, she would have kept walking when she heard voices coming from her parents' bedroom. Raised voices.

"-if you stopped filling her brain with all this nonsense, then perhaps-"

"The perhaps what, Cadmus? That she'll magically become the warrior you oh-so desperately want her to be? She's twelve. Twelve!"

"Do you know what I was doing when I was twelve? What Gellron was doing? Age is no excuse."

"But she isn't like either of you. You should be trying to help her grow in her own way, foster the talents she already has, not force your own upon her."

"She needs to know how to defend herself. If she doesn't, you will be sorry, trust me. Do you think a baker or craftswoman is what our people need? We need warriors, Anaderia."

"… You've been talking to Ignvanus again, haven't you? And Joseph?"

"They are good men, Anaderia, and fine warriors. They know what the future will bring for our people. All of Demonkind must be united against the Human threat. For the glory of Lustravias."

She heard shuffling, and then her mother's voice again, harsher than she'd ever heard it.

"You tarnish his name with that talk, Cadmus. Have we not lost enough? Have they not lost enough? What point is there to more senseless violence, you wrath-obsessed FOOL?"

There was a sharp crack, then the wall shook as someone hit it. Through the crack in the door, she saw the dark outline of her father and, illuminated by the dim candlelight, her mother, holding a hand to her cheek.

"See what you made me do. Our anger should be directed at the real enemy, Anaderia. And I will hear no lectures on matters of faith from you. You who fills Alleria's head with those tall tales and propaganda that the Humans fed you. I will not have a Lightbringer in my family, you hear me?"

Her mother was muttering something too quiet for her to catch. There was another loud crack.

Her legs were shaking. So were her hands. She tried to back away while at the same time reaching for the door handle. A floorboard creaked, and their voices went silent.

"Alleria?"

"Alleria?"

Something was shaking her. She tried to look away as the door creaked open. She tried to-

"Alleria!"

Her eyes snapped open. Danadrian leaned over her, one hand shaking her shoulder.

"Hey, you alright? It looked like you were in quite a deep sleep, but you were muttering a lot."

She pulled herself to her feet, her eyes adjusting to the dim light around them. "Thanks."

"Sure. So, what was it?"

"Hm?"

"Bad dreams? Nightmares?"

None of your business.

"It's-"

She cut herself off and purposefully forced herself to look him in the eyes. There was genuine concern there, completely bare and unmasked. He actually cared.

"Yes. Just a bad dream. I've been having them more and more, recently. You?"

"Me?" he chuckled, "No, I never have dreams. Or if I do have them, I've forgotten by the time I wake up. But nightmares … I have those sometimes, though I doubt they are as vivid as yours."

She adjusted her cloak back around her shoulders and tried dusting some of the dirt off it. For all the good it did. "Can you remember the nightmares, then?"

"Marginally. Fleeting glimpses and… feelings more than concrete images. Either something is really, really wrong with this place, or the never-ending hallways and constant darkness are starting to put a strain on my sanity. And what about you? I heard some of your mumblings while you were asleep."

She stumbled a little in her speech, "Wh-What did you hear?"

"I can't really be sure, but I think I caught 'family' and 'Human threat' amongst all the murmurs. Want to tell me what it was about?"

The memory was still fresh in her mind. And raw, like a wound that had been cut open again, bleeding with her pain and regret. She looked at him and saw the question in his eyes, but also the hesitance. He was asking her, not ordering.

"A memory. Of my mother. She was just telling me a story… it was so long ago I barely remembered it."

"Was it a good memory?"

"…In the beginning it was."

He opened his mouth to say something, but they felt a presence behind them and turned.

Gellron was standing there, barely a few feet away from her. Her heart constricted itself, and her chest felt heavy. The memories still raw in her mind, she looked into her brother's eyes and felt a sense of guilt wash over her, seeing how far he had come. How far he had fallen.

When he looked at her, it was like she was seeing a stranger, warped in the visage of someone she once knew. And when he looked at her, he saw the exact same thing.

"You saw my mother. What was the story?"

"…Our mother."

His eyes narrowed. "You lost your place in our family when you ran. What was the story?"

She breathed in and stilled her shaking hands. She breathed out and met his eyes squarely. Not her brother… not anymore. Words were just words.

"It story about a High Angelica making peace between two warring states." Danadrian flinched. "I think it was meant to be a metaphor."

"Naturally," Gellron sneered. "As expected, that you would remember her blasphemous tales. Light-stricken, you and her both."

Words were just words… and yet some could cut deeper than a knife. She knew that she'd done that before; now she was feeling them stab into her with vigour.

"Your mother worshipped the Light?"

Gellron spun his gaze to Danadrian, his look of condescension not ceasing for even a moment. "She was indoctrinated by your teachings. Couldn't even stomach to follow the Soul Pact properly, as weak-willed as it is."

"She followed only what she perceived as good and righteous."

Gellron spun his head to look at her again, and even she could hardly believe what was coming out of her mouth. Her, defending the Light? Danadrian was one thing, but religion was a tired and stuffy topic that turned good men into puppets and better men into tyrants for the sake of their gods. And yet…

And yet in her mother's eyes she'd seen something truer, something beautiful. Something that was invisible to Gellron, with his eyes clouded by vengeance and hate, but was a near constant in the Angelica beside her. In one who had seen what had only ever been described to her, even if he couldn't remember it.

Her hand was shaking again, but this time not of fear or guilt, but indignation. Her own anger.

"Say one more word defaming our mother, and I swear you will regret it, Gellron."

He eyed her, then looked down to where her hand was resting. Just over the hilt of the sword sheathed there.

"Could you do it?" he asked quietly. "Do you think you could really take my life with that? Honestly?"

Her heart was racing. "If I must," she lied.

He leaned in closer, that unnerving, humourless and vicious smile on his face.

"I don't believe you. You couldn't even take a Talradian life with that, and you hate them as much as I do. But keep deluding yourself, Alleria Elevar. It will only make this more painful. As you deserve."

He marched away from them, heading back to the endless stream of hallways they would have to trek through once more. Knowing full well that they would follow, because what else were they supposed to do?

"I will kill him. I will if I must. I have to," she muttered to herself, barely a whisper.

If only we could.

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