There were so many things to fix and so many problems to solve that just talking to everyone and figuring out what to do swallowed up the whole rest of my day. When I finally got back to my room, ready to collapse, I found poor Ju clinging to her pillow with a tired, pale look on her face.
I tried to keep quiet so as not to disturb her, tiptoeing to the bathroom to get changed and brush my teeth.
As I squeezed the last bit of toothpaste from the tube, I sighed: what am I going to do now, as this runs out? I need to find some kind of substitute here!
We’d managed to get some local soap, at least!
As I washed my hands in the basin and poured the used water into the disposal barrel, I shook my head in disbelief. Here I was, in a beautifully tiled marble bathroom, fully lit, with a big mirror on a wall, but without a drop of running water! It’s such an unappreciated blessing—only when it’s gone do you realize its true value. I’d give anything to be able to take a shower right now!
I shuffled back into the room, slipped off my slippers, and climbed into the giant bed, where poor Ju was curled up, looking miserable. Gently, I started to caress her temple, hoping to ease her discomfort, when the door creaked open, and the shadowy silhouette of a tall figure appeared in the doorway.
“Mom, I can’t sleep,” Sid announced bluntly.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, doing my best to stifle a sigh.
Instead of answering, he just asked, “Mom, can I stay with you?”
For a moment, my mind went completely blank, struggling to process his request—until I remembered that, as a dragon, he used to sleep out in the open on the terrace.
Now that he was a young man, I’d given him his own room, but it was clear he felt lonely there.
“Did you have a bad dream?” I asked, wondering what had sent him my way.
“I dreamed that Alice shot you, and then I couldn’t find you. You were just…gone,” he began, his face shadowed with worry. “So I woke up and wanted to see if you were still here.”
I sighed softly. “Come in. You know Alice would never shoot me, right?”
Before I’d even finished the sentence, he’d blurred into motion—a streak of light—and landed beside me in bed, wearing a satisfied grin. Ah, levels! I only hoped he hadn’t damaged the floor with that wild leap, though he somehow managed to settle down without shaking the whole bed.
“Can you tell me a story?” he asked, already commandeering my pillow.
My mind went blank. I’d been here before—he’d already asked me for a story once, and yet, somehow, I was caught off guard again. My mind scrambled for anything I could pull from memory, any tale, but nothing came up. So, in the end, I decided to share a real story: how I met Spartacius and our adventures in the Paris-Dakar rally. It seemed like a good choice, as he listened with keen interest, but I didn’t even make it to the end of the first leg before I heard him yawning. Moments later, he was asleep.
Good to know—I still had ten more rally legs left to recount! If this worked so well, I had bedtime stories for the next ten days.
Since my bed was occupied and my sleep already disturbed, I made my way to the terrace to enjoy the sunset. It was the long stretch of summer here, and the suns were only just setting. The last warm rays touched my skin as a vibrant panorama unfolded before me: the river, winding left toward the north, curved westward, flowing past a small fort and eventually spilling into a lake a few kilometers ahead. If I looked closely, I could see hints of another, larger lake beyond it—the subtle changes in water color giving it away.
To the right of the river, golden fields rolled gently over the low hills, ripe for harvest, while down the valley toward the lake, a vast green forest spanned both riverbanks. To the north, steeper hills with rocky peaks dotted the landscape, and further still, the Northern Rim—a rugged line of cliffs—marked the domain's edge about ten miles from the castle.
Underneath a sky ablaze with reds slowly melting into violet, the brilliant, shifting colors pulled my thoughts into quiet reflection.
From one thought to the next, I drifted back to the memory of trying to explain how I’d gained my levels. The fiery sky mirrored the blazing nova I’d seen in that death node, bringing the memory to life. Sid had sparked this line of thought when he asked if I was a "hegemon." I'd never heard that word before, but it seems that's how orcs—perhaps others, too—refer to those who surpass level one hundred.
I’d attempted to explain it to them once, but the moment I tried, a strange message had silenced me: "Lores Deimosdottir, some things are best left unspoken." The name seemed to carry a weight, stirring something deep within me.
Quietly, I murmured, “Lores Deimosdottir.”
There was a moment of confusion, then a faint spark, like distant lightning—not as sharp as before, perhaps because I was growing used to it.
The sky dimmed abruptly, and the world around me morphed into a stark, surreal landscape. Dark, silvery dust—the same I’d seen in the death node—blanketed everything, muting the once vibrant colors. Strange, jagged rock formations rose around me, like twisted crystals and petrified trees jutting out at impossible angles. It felt like standing on some eerie, alien moon.
I looked up, and there was Deimos, massive and imposing, hanging in the sky. Strange filaments stretched across its surface and beyond. As I watched, suddenly a face appeared—though it was not a face in any human sense. Yet, somehow, I understood it as one, and it sent a chill through me, more profound than fear.
“Lores Deimosdottir, you came to visit me?” it asked, the voice resounding through the air, as though the entire landscape were speaking.
The words reverberated in my mind with a force that was both surreal and overwhelming, leaving me unable to tell if I’d truly heard them or if they were echoing within. Deimos loomed, its massive presence too large for a star, yet too unearthly to simply be a moon. But what shattered my sense of reality was that it had spoken—to me.
The impossibility of it struck like lightning. I yelped, instinctively jumping back, and suddenly, with a dizzying shift, I found myself once more on the terrace. My skin was damp with sweat, and my heart pounded as I looked out over the horizon. The suns had slipped fully beyond sight, leaving the world bathed in twilight—yet brighter than the shadowed, lunar-scape I’d just seen.
I stood there trembling, clutching the railing to steady myself. Moments later, Ju stumbled out of bed, alarmed, her eyes wide as she hurried over to check on me.
“Are you all right?” she asked softly, then pulled me into a warm embrace. “No, you’re not! What happened?”
I sank into her arms, drawing comfort from her presence as I tried to steady myself. “Shh! You’ll wake Sid,” I whispered, feeling my voice shake.
Ju just shrugged. “He’s out like a rock. But why did you yelp like that?”
“I... I don’t even know. I saw something...” I trailed off, struggling to find words for the surreal encounter. But it was hard to explain, let alone believe.
“Something that scared you to hell?” she said, holding me even tighter.
I chuckled weakly. “You have no idea how right you are.”
She tilted her head to look at me, her eyes questioning and steady. “Does it... does it have something to do with who you are?” she whispered into my ear, barely louder than a breath.
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I nodded, feeling a chill go down my spine as the memory surfaced again.
“What did you see?” she murmured.
I hesitated before answering, knowing it sounded impossible yet feeling it in my bones. “My father,” I whispered. The words were barely audible, but my gut told me it was true, with a certainty I couldn’t shake.
She shifted back just enough to look at me, her eyes narrowing. “Your father? And that was so terrifying?”
I felt my mind reel back to the vision. “No… yes… maybe. It wasn’t fear, exactly. More like… shock. I was meditating, reflecting on things, and then suddenly, I was there. I saw him.” My heart raced just saying it out loud.
She let out a small huff, curiosity and determination lighting her eyes. “It sounds like it’s important. Do you want to try again?” She held out her hand, her tone as gentle as her touch. “I’ll be here. I’m not going to sleep anytime soon anyway.”
I looked at her, my heart torn between dread and a strange sense of longing. Did I even want to go back? That… entity had looked at me, spoken to me. Could that have been real? Or was it some illusion? But it had felt so undeniably real.
Meeting her gaze again, I pulled her close, her warmth grounding me. She practically hummed with life magic, as if offering protection just by being here.
“I won’t let you go,” she whispered firmly. “You’re safe with me.”
A chuckle escaped me as I imagined her facing down that star-moon with a fierce scowl, ready to scold it into submission. Despite the fear, the curiosity was stronger. I took a deep breath, feeling steadier. I wanted to see it again.
"Okay," I said, pulling her close and patting the terrace's floor beside me. "Sit here with me."
She settled in, taking my hand in hers, and I closed my eyes, trying to focus. But nothing happened. After a moment, I opened one eye to see her laughing softly.
“What?” she asked.
I shrugged. I wracked my brain, wondering what I'd done differently before. Shifting into a more comfortable position, I thought back to the moment it had all happened. How did I trigger it?
It did not matter what I did, nothing happened. That is, until my mind circled back to that phrase, and that name: my name.
I focused on the words and spoke them softly and instantly, the strange, moonlit landscape unfurled before me, vast and surreal.
I felt a faint tug in my hand; she was still gripping me, holding tight. But although I could feel her presence, I couldn’t see her.
I lifted my gaze to the vast, star-speckled sky, crisscrossed with glowing filaments like some cosmic aurora borealis. Then I found it again: the moon—or was it? No, I knew now, it was more than a moon. This was a star, hanging larger in the sky than our own moon, its gaseous filaments swirling slowly across its surface. Or was it a planet, something like Jupiter?
The longer I stared, the stronger I felt pulled towards it, as if drawn by some unseen force. It grew larger and larger, consuming more of the sky, details sharpening as it expanded before my eyes. Then, as it shifted, the now familiar face emerged once more, staring directly at me, silent but intensely present.
For a long moment, it simply looked at me. And then—I could swear I heard it—a low chuckle rippled through the stillness.
“If you wish, you may bring her here with you," it said suddenly, the deep voice resonating within me, "but know that if you leave her alone here, she may not find her way back.”
A chill swept through me as I looked down at my hand, seeing Julietta’s faint form—a ghostly outline, barely tethered. I glanced around, feeling the weight of the desolate, alien landscape pressing in. The thought of her soul fading in this place struck me with a pang of dread. My grip on her hand grew stronger.
My eyes lifted back to the face above.
“Father?” I ventured.
“Daughter,” it responded. And somehow, I felt it smile, if this being could indeed smile.
“Are you... a god?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
I felt it shrug—a sensation more than a sight. “What is a god?” it asked.
I left the question unanswered.
"Am I really here?" I asked, feeling silly as soon as it left my lips. Yet the answer that came to my question, surprised me.
“Your consciousness is here. Your name is the key that brought you.”
I nodded slowly, trying to process this. "And if I were to bring her, what would I be bringing?"
“Her consciousness, as well,” it replied, with a measured calm. “But be careful in separating her consciousness from her body. The soul anchors it, and if you keep her too long here, it risks breaking away.”
The warning sent a shiver down my spine. Why am I talking with him about bringing Ju here?
"Did you... did you... make me?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“I gave you the chance to be,” he replied.
"I don't want to be a demon!" The words burst out before I could hold them back.
“You died,” he replied simply, as if that explained everything. And maybe it did.
I stood silent, my thoughts frozen, the weight of those words sinking in.
“Why did you… do this to me?” I finally asked
“I saw an opportunity," he said smoothly, "and I thought you had potential. Would you have preferred that I hadn't?”
I swallowed, “What… what would’ve happened otherwise?”
He gave me a long, unreadable look. “Can’t you imagine? But if you really want to know, you could find out for yourself. Wander the lower planes—just be cautious not to dive too deeply, or you may find yourself unable to pull free from certain beings lurking below. You’re likely strong enough to resist their grasp, but even for you, it would be… painful.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
“What… what am I?” I hesitated, then forced the question out. “Am I a succubus?”
He chuckled, a low, echoing sound. “You are an arch-demon. You are what you wish to be—and what you believe you can be. An arch-demon can assume any demon form.”
“Do I have a soul? Do demons… have souls?”
“Any demon can capture and exploit souls. You have one—your own. But you could use others to grow stronger. That’s how many do it.”
“I don’t want that!” I insisted, recoiling.
"Not even your own?" he said with a casual shrug.
“Yes,” I whispered fiercely. “Yes, I’ll keep mine.”
“Then keep it,” he said, as though it were the simplest choice in the world.
A wave of shimmering aurora washed over my face, soft as a caress.
“Your time here is running out,” he said, “Don’t linger too long away from your body, or you may lose it. Especially now, while you’re still young. Farewell… for now.”
I jolted awake on the terrace, my fingers clenched around Ju’s hand. Her deep green eyes locked onto mine, filled with concern.
“I’m here,” she whispered, hugging me close. “I’m here.”
I took a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm my heartbeat and gather my thoughts.
“You kept murmuring something—Lores De’mot’tir? What does it mean?” she asked, her brow creased.
My hands tightened over hers as I hesitated, words caught in my throat.
“If you care about me,” I finally whispered, “please try to forget what you heard.”
She hugged me tighter, no questions asked.