“Ameliaaa, babyyye. Mommy misses you sooo much, much, much, much, much!”

Duchess Gilda snatches the tiny Amelia into her arms and showers kisses on her cheek.

“No! Release me this instant, woman! Stop slobbering over me. Ew, gross! I said stop!”

Amelia kicks and screams, then she reels back into Donna’s body to escape from the duchess’s grubby hands. But then, seeing her mother saddened, she reluctantly resumes her young form.

So now our Devil grumpily sits on her mother’s lap, wearing a cute frilly dress with a pink bow on her head.

The Duchess is humming happily as she brushes her daughter’s soft blonde hair.

“Aww.”

“Don’t you dare ‘aww’ me, freckles!” Amelia screams with reddened cheeks.

There is a thin, almost invisible wire that connects from the nape of Amelia’s neck to Donna’s ear.

“You know, Ms. Eleanor, now that I know you’re so young, your immature behavior makes so much sense now.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language—or I’ll have no choice but to wash that mouth with soap.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Wouldn’t I?” Donna grins.

She touches the wire with her cold palm, which sends a chill up Amelia’s spine.

Amelia turns to her mother for help.

“Listen to Donna, dear. She convinced me that I’ve been spoiling you a bit too much. Now be a good girl and try these dresses for me!”

Amelia is treated like a doll for the rest of the evening.

In the audience stand, Duke Ambrose is bawling his eyes out as he watches the happy sight of his late wife and long-lost daughter. At the same time, the Devil has curled herself into a ball, blocking out the laughter and jeering from all around.

Terri, please kill me already. Dan, Judge, anybody … end me now.

The next day, Professor Dan Declan and Lady Tessa Tate come to visit.

Declan’s eyelid twitches as he watches Amelia sitting on Donna’s lap. While Tessa rushes to show her baby clothes catalog to Duchess Gilda.

“Not one word,” Amelia says.

Declan clears his throat and briefs the situations of the last six months.

Since Lady Eleanor Ambrose went missing, the operations of the Umber Tower have been suspended. The students and staff are under curfew while the military scours the dungeons.

“And blondie?”

“The student named Xander has remained in his dorm throughout the duration. And upon further investigation, we found out that his true identity is Xander Xenos, son of Xerxes Xenos, tyrant of the desert.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

Dan Declan takes out a scroll and spreads it on the table. The scroll displays the painting of an eagle-eyed man who exudes royalty. The picture bears little resemblance to the real Xerxes Xenos.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Xerxes Xenos is said to be an important figure in the vast desert region which separates the eastern and western continents. They say he has united the many desert tribes under one banner and proclaimed himself as king.”

“And?”

“The desert is four times the size of our kingdom, with a larger standing army than we like to give them credit for. Not only that, Xerxes’ power is said to be on par with an Elder. He is not a figure we want to offend.”

“So you’re ordering me to not touch blondie, is that it? Ha! Just because I’m in this form doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do, four eyes, or have you forgotten who I am—what I am?” Amelia bares her fangs.

“I wouldn’t dare, master. What I mean to say is you should tread carefully when it comes to dealing with a prince of a foreign nation. In recent years, there have been several conflicts along our eastern border with the desert tribes. If King Xerxes is as powerful as they say, then the conflict could escalate to an all-out war.”

“So I can get rid of Blondie and start a continental war at the same time? My, my, how convenient. I get to kill two birds with one stone.” Amelia laughs evilly.

“War brings only death and suffering, Ms. Eleanor,” Donna says. “It’s not something you should joke about.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious, freckles. Death, suffering, ruination, hatred: these are the things I live for! Bwa ha ha! Bwa hahahaha!”

Er, guy?

What is it?

Didn’t the Devil already murder King Xerxes when he attacked Prince Gael’s manor?

Yup.

Did she know she killed Xerxes?

Doesn’t seem like it.

The eyes of the courtroom look toward the Devil’s entourage.

Professor Declan in the present day clears his throat and says: you can’t deny the painting bears little resemblance to the real person. So you could forgive us for our—cough!—ignorance. And … for what’s about to come next …

“There is one more thing that requires your attention, master. It’s about your followers …”

“What is it now? What did those morons do while I’m gone?”

“Well … it’s better for you to go see for yourself.”

“Do I have to? It’s not like they went and started some wild crusade in my name or something, right?”

Dan Declan avoids her eyes. “It’s better for you to meet them as fast as possible.”

Amelia groans. She merges with Donna and transforms into Eleanor. Then Declan guides her to the outskirts of Mellow Bay.

They are greeted by a large shanty town with hundreds of houses made of scraps and old wood boards erected close together.

Nearing the place, they spot folks of all ages in tattered clothes trudging along dusty paths. A lot of them seem frail or sickly, yet they light up at the sight of Eleanor.

“Angel! It’s the angel!”

“She has returned to us.”

“Praise be! Our holy lady!”

The crowd surges forward and swarms Eleanor like locusts. Their voices merge into a chorus as hands stretch out towards her. Some even kneel and kiss the ground she walks on.

“M-Ms. Eleanor, what is going on? Why are these people like this?” Donna whispers.

Eleanor exhales heavily. “This is exactly why I can’t stand groupies.”

She makes her way to the town center, where an out-of-place sight catches her eye—a towering statue made from pure silver. It’s an idol of Eleanor herself with her wings outstretched, gazing downward with unmatched benevolence.

Locking eyes with her metallic gaze, Eleanor massages her throbbing temples.

“In all fairness, you were the one who started all this, master,” Declan says.

“Don’t rub it in, four eyes … Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Eleanor turns to face the eager crowd and spreads silver wings from her back. Her recently scowling face has turned into one of benevolence, reflecting the statue behind her.

She cast her purple irises, taking in the reverence of her followers. Then with a bell-like voice, she says onto them:

“Bring me your weak, your weary, those yearning to live. Bring me those without hope, trapped in the crutches of the Devil, and I shall deliver them to the light. Through me, God shall grant you miracles … So step right up folks, and do queue up, yeah?—Fucking wankers.”

That day, Eleanor cures more than one thousand lepers, and her legend is forever cemented into the history books.

A small chapter in many more miracles to come, in the saga of Saint Eleanor the Merciful.

Wankers, the Devil says and curls back into a ball.