Evening in the village. Shutters closed tightly against any outside influence, the inhabitants lit greedy fires, cooked hearty meals and were content in their little corners of safety and routine. Not for them, the cold tendrils of North wind, or the starlight that sang bright across the heavens. Strangers, in some innate way, to the feel of the land around them.

Evening, in the outlying cottage. Nae sat precariously on the outhouse roof, careless of the groans and creaks of complaints from the rotten wood beneath her body.

Above her, the scattered glow of heavens. Below her, Mutt, pacing back and forth through the front garden. Every so often, she would see the flash of his eyes-almost as bright as the starlight- in the creeping gloom. Intermittently, her small ,white hand could be seen snaking out to snatch books from the haphazard stack scattered like debris around her.

Nae’s mother found her like this, squinting owlishly at the dusty pages, one hand clutching a now empty glass jar.

“Need a refill?” She asked, heaving herself over the lip of the roof. If the wood had been complaining before, it was now screaming in a cacophony of rage.

Nae nodded, and without glancing up from the book on her knee, she thrust the jar forward. There was a whispered plea, a whoosh of air and then a strong, steady light once more. She wrinkled her nose at the bitter smell, though – something that made her mother smile.

“No, I never liked it either. Shame, really that it has to be sulphur.”

They both winced, as the smell intensified and flinched ready for the inevitable repercussion.

Oh, I’m sorry for not smelling of roses and puppy dogs. It’s not enough that I have my life disrupted, no! You have to complain about my odour every time you summon me. Selfish, inconsiderate…”

The voice had all the delicacy of a blunted axe, but the precision of an executioner. The two figures on the roof allowed it to vent silently, before the larger of the two eventually raised her hands in truce.

“Alright! Alright. We apologise, for the rudeness, and for the disruption. You know I appreciate you, Malphus.”

Wispy blue tendrils materialised in front of the woman’s face, melding together to form a the harsh, rather stern looking head of a demon. The ghastly apparition nodded, as if in acceptance of the apology, and turned to face Nae, who instinctively shrank back. He laughed, a sound not unlike rusty nails being dragged across stone.

“This one amuses me, Sion, your little scared rabbit. Come here, child, and let me gaze upon your stupid face.”

“Go on, Nae,” The woman, Sion, urged gently, sensing her reluctance.

Nae pushed the books aside with her good arm, and shuffled forward awkwardly, trying not to breathe through her nose as the demon surveyed her with all the disdain of a king looking upon the servants who cleaned his privy. He was evidently thoroughly unimpressed by what he saw.

“So small and skinny, and all the bravery and wits of a chicken. I expected more from your blood, Sion.”

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“She learns every day, Malphus. You know this. Save your scorn and your anger for someone more deserving.”

He chuckled unpleasantly, and glanced towards the stack of books.

“The ordering of higher magics, eh? Tell me then, little scared rabbit, what sigils must be prepared for a lesser- elemental summoning?’

“Gaia, Aether, and the intent of the caster bound into the spell.”

“And what classification of binding enables to caster to innately use elemental magics?”

“Homunicaë, but the element depends on the specific type of demon,” Nae answered swiftly, both wanting to please her mother and prove him wrong, to wipe the smirk from his terrifying face.

“Good, good,” he purred. “Not as useless as I’d previously thought. Such a shame then, for one so knowledgeable to be born without a mark.”

The woman stiffened, anger distorting her features momentarily before slipping back into a practised bland expression.

“She will be able to identify the threats, and to defend herself as needed. Do not question my choice to train her as such.”

“Oh, well if my opinion is not wanted, perhaps I should depart?”

“Yes, I think perhaps you should, my friend.”

Abruptly, there was a flash, and the sardonic grin departed back to the void that he had come from. Nae knew that he was still listening though, through the connection that he shared with her mother. Even so, this didn’t stop her from swearing under her breath daringly, hoping that he would hear.

A hand, on her shoulder, and a sad smile that was almost an apology. Mum. Nae wanted to ask her the question again, but sensed that it would do her no good tonight. They remained on the roof in silence for a moment. The absence of words was almost a tangible thing, pushing the divide apart ever-so-slightly more. Resentment and idolisation. Regret and pride. Then Sion smiled, and abruptly stood, holding her hand out to her daughter, who took it after a moment of hesitation.

“I made soup,” the woman paused, “it’s not good, though.”

Nae shrugged, recognising this as some form of apology, but she climbed down anyway and they shared the meal together in a more comfortable silence. It didn’t really matter that Nae discreetly tipped out a large portion onto the floor for Mutt to eat. It also didn’t matter that they could both hear him noisily lapping up the floor-soup with more gusto than was seemly. Sion smiled at her daughter from across the table and raised an eyebrow, but forgiveness was an easy thing when it came to small matters like uneaten food.

Afterwards, Nae scraped the burnt bits from the pot, and promised her mother that she’d collect some fresh food tomorrow.

“Take Mutt..”

“I don’t take Mutt, he follows me everywhere. Whether I want him to or not.”

“That’s good, then.”

Is it? Nae thought grumpily. But she filled his bowl with the plentiful leftover soup nonetheless and stopped to kiss his head before heading to her own room at the back of the house.

She could her her mother tinkering with glass vials and chopping plants well into the night, echoing Nae’s own restlessness. She could even occasionally hear the murmured voice of Malphus, as he offered words of advice and support to the woman.

He was not a strong demon, Nae knew this from his own confession to being a lesser order of Hominicaë, the human-like beings who had control over elements, healing and occasionally telekinesis.

No, Nae’s mother had not been deemed a threat, and she even had the paperwork to prove it. This came in handy for the almost weekly challenges made by the villagers for her to prove her harmlessness.

It didn’t stop them from hating her, though, despite the healing salves and potions she provided them with.

Hearing Malphus's voice dredged up the memory of the harsh comments from earlier. No mark, no power. No physical strength or great bravery. Nothing. I am nobody, a no one.

*********

When Sion checked in on her daughter later, she noticed the tear-tracks that ran down Nae’s cheeks. Pausing, she pulled the coverlet over her sleeping form, and tenderly tucked it underneath the girl’s chin.

“Trust me love, you’re better off without it,” she murmured, before closing shut the door, and leaving her daughter to chase broken dreams in her sleep.