Kerrigan and her escort reached the Citadel. The Citadel was a large 4 story, fortified building with a tall hexagonal tower at the center reaching up to about 50 meters.

Her two stoic legionaries ushered her into the building without any fanfare and dropped her off at an unmanned stone desk near the main entrance.

“Register here”, one of them said and they both left.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her tail swishing nervously behind her. The silence was oppressive, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a figure emerged from the shadows to stand behind the desk.

The demon woman was tall and slender, with sharp, angular features and glowing golden eyes. Her skin was a deep, rich blue, and her long, pointed ears twitched slightly as she approached. She wore a flowing robe made of shimmering, iridescent fabric that shifted colors as she moved. Her horns were small and curved, barely visible beneath the hood of her robe. She carried a staff in one hand, its tip glowing faintly with a soft, white light.

"Ah, you must be the new Squire," she said, her voice smooth and melodic, with a hint of amusement. "I am Archivist Thalos. Welcome to the Citadel."

Kerrigan nodded, unsure of how to respond. She wasn’t used to being addressed so formally, especially not by someone who looked like they belonged in a fantasy novel. She felt her cheeks heat a little. "Uh, thanks. My name is Clare Kerrigan, but everyone just calls me Kerrigan."

Thalos inclined her head slightly, her golden eyes studying her with a mixture of curiosity and appraisal. "Yes, I’ve heard. Knight Lord Balto sent word that you were coming. An Out-realmer, no less. Quite the rarity."

"So I’ve been told…Alright," she said, clapping her hands together, her voice steady despite the knot of fear in her stomach. "What do I need to do?"

Thalos smiled, a faint, almost imperceptible curve of her lips. "First, you must be registered. The Citadel keeps meticulous records of all who enter its halls. Your progress, your failures, your victories—all will be documented. You will be given a schedule of classes, which you are expected to attend without fail. You will be assigned quarters while you attend the Citadel. While not studying, you are to be available for service to your Knight, who will provide mentorship, practical one on one training, and lead you on Rabid culling runs. You will be studying at the citadel for three cycles. Second years can submit their name to the Ether to be summoned by supplicants”

“How much is all this going to cost me. I’ve no money”, she asked

Thalos gave her an odd look, “What do you mean, money?”

“How am I going to pay for this”

“Soul energy, of course. And you have more than any other squire in here”

“How can you tell”

“You have a tail. Squires don’t have tails, only horns. Only Knights have enough soul energy for their tail to develop. But if you want details on exactly how much soul energy you have, run your finger down your arm like this." She turned her left forearm over and ran her taloned finger down the underside of her forearm and then back up three times. Runes burned into the air above her arm.

Kerrigan copied the gesture and sure enough, runes burned into the air above her arm as well. She didn’t know what they meant. She did note that there were a lot more lines and a lot more digits on Thalos' readout. She asked, “I can’t read this, but I’m guessing you have a lot more soul energy than me, so why don’t you have a tail?”

“I’m a Patrician. I did not walk down the Martial Path like you. I will never grow a tail or wings”, she said a little embarrassed. “Let me show you what these numbers mean”

“The first line is for Commons, or otherwise known as Plebs. You need about 100 Rabids to make a common soul”

The second line is Partitions, or Parts. Ten Plebs make a Part.

The third line is Low-Nobles, or Lows…Oh look you already have one. Must have been the squire you defeated…50 Parts make a Low”, she remarked. That was the last line in Kerrigan’s list. Thalos moved to her own pointing at the next line.

“Then there is Min-Nobles, or Mids. 20 Lows make a Mid”, she said pointing to the last line of her list. “And if you ever get lucky enough there are two more soul values. The High Nobles (Heights) that are worth about 400 Mids., and finally there are the fabled Lights, worth ten Hights. These are the souls from the Legion of Light…and unless the truce is broken you’ll likely never see one’.

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“There is a Legion of Light”, she asked fascinated at the numbers burning on top of her arm. She had 8 Plebs and a single Low, but as she was looking the Plebs ticked down to 7. She had lost money. “Oh, I just lost a Pleb. Why?” she asked as well.

“Yes, there is a Legion of Light. Our eternal enemy. You will learn about them in class. You probably just burned through a Pleb naturally. Your body consumes soul energy to sustain itself. The higher your rank, the faster your burn rate. This spell only shows the balance, not the drain.…Ah, I forgot, you’re an out-realmer. You will naturally burn soul energy to exist. The higher your rank the more your natural burn rate.”

This worried Kerrigan immensely. She would need to find a way to gather more soul energy. Thalos mentioned Rabid culling… “How do I close it?”, she had to conserve her energy for now.

“Just do the same gesture”, Thalos said demonstrating and shutting down her own spell.

Kerrigan quickly mimicked Thalos’s gesture, running her taloned finger down her forearm three times. The glowing runes above her arm flickered and then vanished, leaving her with a sense of relief. She didn’t want to waste any more of her precious soul energy, especially now that she understood how vital it was to her survival in this world.

“So,” Kerrigan said, her mind racing as she tried to process everything Thalos had just told her, “if I don’t keep harvesting souls, I’ll eventually… what? Lose my tail? My horns? Turn back into a Rabid?”

Thalos nodded, her golden eyes glinting with a mix of sympathy and amusement. “Exactly. Soul energy is the lifeblood of demonkind. Without it, we regress. For Plebeians, it’s a constant struggle to maintain their status. For Nobles like you, the stakes are even higher. The more power you have, the more energy you burn. It’s a delicate balance, one that every demon must learn to manage.”

Kerrigan frowned, her tail swishing nervously behind her. “Great. So not only do I have to survive this place, but I also have to constantly hunt for souls just to stay alive. Sounds like a real fun time.”

Thalos chuckled softly, the sound like the tinkling of distant bells. “Welcome to the Dark Legion, Squire Kerrigan. It’s not a kind world, but it’s the only one we have. Now, let’s get you registered.”

She gestured to the stone desk, and a large, leather-bound book materialized on its surface. The pages flipped open on their own, revealing lines of glowing, runic script. Thalos produced a quill from within her robes and handed it to Kerrigan.

“Sign your name here,” she said, pointing to a blank space at the bottom of the page. “This is your formal entry into the Citadel. Once you sign, I’ll take you to your quarters.”

With a steady hand, she signed her name in the book. The words flared brightly for a moment, then faded, leaving her name etched into the page in glowing, golden letters.

“What beautiful letters. What language is that?” Thalos asked curiously.

“English”

“Marvelous. I’ve never been out of realm before. I hear the Many Worlds are beautiful. Alas I’m stuck here. You must tell me more about where you come from, but for now, come along. You probably want to rest. It’s quite late”

Kerrigan was led through the winding corridors of the Citadel, her footsteps echoing against the cold, stone floors. The building was a labyrinth of twisting hallways, towering arches, and hidden alcoves. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting scenes of battle, conquest, and demonic rituals. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the faint hum of magic.

“Your quarters are on the third floor,” Thalos said, her voice echoing softly in the vast hallway. “You’ll be sharing with another Squire. They have not arrived yet. Most of the students here are Legionaries from rich families, trying to get their sons and daughters into a squire ship or low-ranking Nobles, so you’ll likely stand out. Try not to let it bother you.”

Kerrigan nodded, though she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to not let it bother her. She was already an outsider, a human-turned-demon in a world where everyone seemed to know the rules except her. The fact that she had a tail—something only Knights were supposed to have—was just another thing that set her apart. She could feel the weight of the stares from the few demons they passed in the hallways, their glowing eyes following her with a mix of curiosity and disdain.

“Here we are,” Thalos said, stopping in front of a heavy wooden door. She gestured for Kerrigan to enter, and the door swung open on its own, revealing a small, sparsely furnished room. There were two beds, a simple wooden desk, and a small chest at the foot of each bed. The walls were bare, and the only light came from a single green torch mounted on the wall.

Kerrigan stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room. It wasn’t much, but it was better than sleeping on the ground in the Sundered Plains. She set her axe down by the bed and turned to Thalos. “So, what now?”

“Now, you rest,” Thalos said, her tone softening slightly. “Your classes begin tomorrow. You’ll be expected to attend without fail. The Citadel does not tolerate laziness or disobedience. If you miss a class or fail to meet expectations, you’ll find yourself back in the Sundered Plains faster than you can blink.”

Kerrigan nodded, her jaw tightening. She wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Your schedule will be delivered to you in the morning,” Thalos continued. “You’ll be studying a variety of subjects—combat, magic, demonic history, and the art of soul-binding contracts. Your ability to adapt will determine how far you rise—or how quickly you fall. It’s a rigorous curriculum, but if you survive it, you’ll emerge stronger than you ever thought possible.”

Kerrigan nodded, her mind already racing with questions. She wanted to ask more, but Thalos was already turning to leave.

“Rest well, Squire Kerrigan,” Thalos said as she stepped back into the hallway. “Tomorrow, your real training begins.”

The door closed behind her, leaving Kerrigan alone in the dimly lit room. She sat down on the edge of the bed, her tail curling around her as she tried to process everything. The weight of her new reality was pressing down on her, but she refused to let it crush her. She had survived this far, and she would keep surviving, no matter what it took.

As she lay down on the cold, hard bed, her mind wandered back to the strange man in the tweed suit. His cryptic words echoed in her head: “The only way out is up.” She didn’t know what he meant, but she was determined to find out. She would climb the ranks of the Dark Legion, uncover the truth about her transformation, and find a way to escape this hellish world.

But for now, she needed to rest.