Erin woke up some time later, well after the sun had fully set, to find herself sagging into a plush leather armchair in the living room. Conviction was seated in the seat across from her, his posture rigid and the dark voids of his eyes locked entirely on her. Oscar, or the creature who called himself Oscar, floated only a few paces from her. Groaning, she struggled to fully sit upright. The room spun in her vision, and she had to grip the armrests to support her own weight.

"Erin," Oscar said, relief filling his voice. "Are you alright?"

"No... I'm pretty far from alright," she murmured, pushing a few dark curls from her brow. A dull ache throbbed in her head. She had hoped, perhaps, to open her eyes and find everything had gone back to normal. To see that Conviction, and Oscar's 'true form' were just aspects of a strange dream.

An irritated sigh rose in her throat. "You're gonna have to... explain everything to me."

"Of course. I would have liked to have done things in a more... slow, measured approach." He glared at Conviction, briefly flashing his fangs at him. The suited figure didn't react. "I... I am Oscar. That's the name I was given when I was summoned. I didn't lie to you on that, at least. But... I'm not a human, as you can plainly see. I'm a fylgja. A guardian spirit who was assigned to protect you."

Erin reached up and slowly pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ghosts are real?" she asked without opening her eyes.

"Well I'm not a ghost, but... yes."

She nodded, her eyes still squeezed shut. "And magic is real?" What else could explain the insanity suddenly thrust upon her?

Oscar sucked air through his fangs. "Yes."

Eventually, with great effort, she opened her eyes and forced herself to sit upright. Her legal guardian was a kind of magical monster, and magic was real. Were it not for the migraine burning in her brain, she would have thought she was dreaming. Or, rather, having a nightmare. "And what about," she motioned toward Conviction with a shaky hand. "You said he's... part of a.... a Dagda? What does any of that mean?"

"Aspect of the Dagda," Conviction said in a crisp voice. "When the great Dagda was shattered, we shards arose to fulfil his duties in his place, each of us-"

Erin raised a hand. "Let's... put a pin in that for now." She'd lost her mind. She'd lost her damn mind. That, or she was stuck in hell! "So you're... a big shot in whatever all this is. Okay. I can grasp that much." It was perhaps best to try and keep things simple for now. "And what's this... Fulcrum stuff?"

"A person chosen to create balance between the realms," Oscar replied. Oh, good grief, the migraine was getting worse. "Particularly in the defence of Earth against supernatural forces. Your ancestor signed a contract many centuries ago, creating a lineage of people to serve in the role."

Conviction grunted. "Did you assume she would never suspect anything? Did you think you could keep her perpetually in the dark? What, what she would reach a hundred years old, still looking twenty, and not think anything was strange about her?" he asked.

Oscar winced, his ears flattening against the sides of his head. "I... was going to tell her eventually. But... her father wanted her to live something of a normal, peaceful life."

Erin blinked a few times, her brain only now catching onto what Conviction had just said. "What... was that about me living to be a hundred?" Had she misheard him?

Oscar sucked air through his teeth. "You... are immortal," he said in a low voice.

There was a long silence in the room, punctuated only by the ticking of the old wall-mounted clock.

"Come again?" Erin bluntly asked.

"You are half-fae," Conviction sternly told you. "Just as your father was. And his predecessor, and their predecessor, all the way back to the founding of the contract. Now in adulthood, you are ageless. Or, at least, your lifespan will be so naturally massive to render any distinction meaningless to any non-immortals."

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Again, silence. But Erin's migraine was starting to scream in the back of her head, like a man being walled in over a cask of amontillado.

"My... father was a mechanic. And my mother was a vet. And they both died when I was a toddler," she murmured.

"A lie," Conviction said. He motioned toward Oscar, who flinched. "Told to you by this lowly spirit."

"It wasn't... it wasn't a lie for the sake of cruelty." He looked toward Erin, sorrow gleaming in his eyes. "Your mother... did die when you were very young. Killed by an enemy of your father. And, in his grief and fear, he thought it would safe to have you raised far away from him. That's where I came in."

Erin swayed in her seat, and feared she would pass out again. Her whole life, her whole world, was built on a lie. And now the truth had kicked her front door in, and was hitting her with a procession of sucker punches.

Her mother hadn't just died, she'd been murdered. Her father had apparently been alive this whole time, only to now be murdered before she could even set her eyes on him. And, oh yes, they were apparently from a lineage of immortal magical freaks! The more answers she got, the less she understood.

"All this time," she murmured under her breath, "he was alive all this time." There was a lot to digest, and she feared she'd have some kind of fit if she tried to do so now. So, Erin shelved the thought for now and looked at Oscar. "How could we both be half... fae? Fairy?"

"Fae would be the correct term. Or, sidhe. They get used interchangeably," Oscar said, lifting his paws as he spoke. "Those mystical genes entered your family centuries ago, and are so potent that any offspring born from your kin will always be half-fae."

"To get back to the matter at hand," Conviction said in a stern voice, snapping the two to attention. "With the passing of your father, his duties fall to you. I would advise you to quickly take up residence in his old office so that you can be prepared for any incidents sent your way."

"She hasn't been trained yet!" Oscar quickly said. "She doesn't know anything of magic!"

"That is entirely your fault, creature."

Training... she had to learn how to use magic. The thought alone would have made her laugh only a few hours ago. Now it was just the latest absurdity, haphazardly thrown onto the pile. "What... what duties, exactly?" she asked. She was already certain she wouldn't like the answer.

Conviction shifted his posture, and briefly looked like a statue that had willed itself to life. "The specifics can vary highly, as is the norm for most appointed peacekeeping agents. Dealing with missing persons cases, killing rogue monsters, and generally doing everything in your power to ensure the wider human world remains ignorant of the supernatural."

Oscar moved closer to her chair, bracing his paws against the armrest. "You see... there are many factions and groups across the dimensions who decided, many centuries ago, that it would be best not to make contact with humanity. Humans, you see, have a tendency to try and kill or subjugate any new groups they come upon. In olden days, there were fears that this would lead to a lengthy conflict to exterminate humanity, and it was a headache nobody wanted to deal with. Nowadays, with the existence of nuclear and chemical weapons... this isolation is pursued more out of caution than anything else," he calmly explained.

"But while kingdoms and governments may agree to certain things, individuals do not blindly follow. Plenty of supernatural beings live on earth in secret. Some are content to live quiet, unassuming lives. This is allowed. But those who seek to harm humans, or use their magic or abilities to cause harm... this cannot be allowed. Agents such as you are vital for ensuring such individuals to not get out of hand," Conviction said.

Well... she had been aimless about her future until a few minute ago. And now the answer for how she'd be spending her life had just been dropped into her lap. Joy of joys.

"This is nuts," Erin eventually said, pressing her palms to her face and sweeping her raven locks from her eyes. She took a deep breath through her nose trying her best to calm the thunderous thudding of her own heart. "This... this is what my family does? We... do magic and kill monsters?"

"It's... a part of being the Fulcrum, yes. Maintaining balance and safety in the world."

"All because of this contract... I don't see how I can be part of a contract that was written centuries before I was born," she noted. Some weird clause, no doubt. There was something at least mildly comforting about knowing that weird magical communities had things like contracts and legalese. A tiny life preserver of normalcy, floating on a tide of insanity.

A thought occurred to her, making her snap to attention in her seat. "And... if I may ask, what if I don't agree to follow this contract?" Was she going to get sent to fairy jail?

"You die," Conviction replied. "Your spirit is bound to the contract. Dereliction of duty will trigger the elimination clause, severing the very thread of your soul."

"Ah," Erin bluntly replied, blinking at the prospect of her own death hanging overhead like the sword of Damocles. It was the only thing that had been missing from the prior madness. "I'm... going to need to see that contract."

"We can procure a copy for you in due time." Conviction moved to stand. "Meanwhile, I would advise you to move into the former office of your father. It has become a recognised landmark in our community." He gestured to Oscar, who briefly flashed his fangs at the enigmatic figure. "The fylgja knows the way."

Erin glared at her guardian. The scrutiny in her eyes made him wilt. "Yeah. I'll bet he does." They'd have words, later. Ideally when her head was clearer, and she could open her mouth without screaming at him.

"We will give you a grace period in which you can get your affairs in order. And, ideally, learn the intricacies of sorcery. You have the blood of a sidhe in your veins. A natural advantage that will take you far, even as a novice. Learn well, Fulcrum." He strode toward the doorway. And then, rather than open it, a symbol flickered at his shoulder for a fraction of a second. Conviction vanished in a plume of black smoke, which swiftly dissolved away to nothingness.

As soon as he left, a white glow enveloped Oscar. His furry visage disappeared, replaced with the human disguise Erin was more used to. "Well..." he forced an awkward smile. "I suppose... I have some explaining to do."

Erin glared at him, red faced. "You're damn right you do..."