* * *

It was well past midnight by the time Micah headed up the stairs to bed. His body felt exhausted but his mind was racing. Races never crossed borders unless it was for trade or military meetings. Micah had never even seen an Elf before in this rural part of Entropion. Now there were not only one, but two Elves sleeping in his house. Not only that, but he had also seen two Daemons with Cecilia, running for their lives through the corn.

His family had always been an outcast in the community for their attitude towards non-human races. His mother and father had always been sympathetic towards travelers who came through the farmlands, offering housing and food to those who could not get rooms at the local inns. Though many refused in fear of a trap, Micah had encountered various visitors in their home, from Feries to the occasional Daemon. They had always kept to themselves and were never there for longer than a day. He and his sister had grown used to the various travelers and guests, but quickly learned to keep quiet about these matters. People were not kind.

Micah opened the door to his childhood bedroom.Venali was passed out on the bed. He sighed and closed the door as quietly as he could. Venali was starting to be a real pain in the ass— setting a new record for how quickly someone could get on his nerves. Only Micah’s sister had ever been able to do it this fast.

Micah headed back down to the main floor. He knew sleep would have escaped him anyway tonight. Better to busy himself and get something done rather than toss and turn all night. He grabbed the guitar case Cecilia had left propped up against the front door, and headed to the basement door behind the staircase. He remembered being terrified of these stairs when he was little. The only light switch was at the bottom of the stairs and at night it looked as if you were descending into the void. His dad used to teach him carpentry down here. When Micah showed a growing interest in it, his father made the space into a real workshop complete with a bench and the right kind of tools. They had made the dining room set together for his mom’s birthday as his first project.

When he turned on the lights, he was glad to see it was all right where they had left it. The tools were hanging neatly on shelves on either side of the table. The only thing out of place was the slight layer of dust that had accumulated on the work table. He brushed it off and set the case down.

It was a beautiful black case with a pocket in the front. On the pocket was an elaborate symbol. A main line curved around into two more lines at the top of the design. He brushed his hand over the gold embroidery and wondered why this guitar was so important to her. Usually Elves wern’t creative. They were the diplomats and scholars of the world. The music and art usually came from his people. That wasn’t the only strange thing about her either. From what he knew, elves had the same hair and eye color along with their pointed ears. Her eyes were the color of sapphires while her hair was blacker than the crows that circled the farmland. There was something different about her, something he couldn’t place his finger on.

His mind wandered as he opened the case and pulled out the pieces of the smashed guitar. It was made out of some of the most beautiful wood he had ever seen. It was a light brown color with a radiant shine to it. The cut outs beside the sound hole were the same symbol he saw on the case. He admired each piece as he lifted them out. When he got the last of it out of the case, he found a couple packages of new strings on the bottom. He took those out as well and moved the case off the table, giving him more room to work.

Micah looked under the bench for the bin full of wood scraps. When he found it, he rummaged around until he found a piece that would work for the new neck of the instrument. That seemed like a good place to start. He grabbed a small square of sandpaper hanging on the wall in front of him and began to work.

* * *

A knock echoed through the house. Micah jumped, upsetting the tin of glue at his elbow. He swore as he moved to wipe it off.

Bright light streamed from the open basement door, almost blinding him as he ascended. He had been working for hours on the guitar, and night had turned to morning without him noticing.

He didn’t want to stop. Working with his hands always distracted him from his thoughts. He was quite good at letting his thoughts get the best of him. Creating something new seemed to be the only escape from himself.

He reached the door and eyed the basket in the corner of the room. His father’s sword was stashed there, and Micah always checked it before opening the door. While his parents had been kind to strangers who felt in danger in a different land, they also knew the danger went both ways. Micah opened the door to two giants standing on the other side.

Daemons.

“Please let us in.” The girl said. She was so stunningly strange to look at, Micah almost didn’t register what she said. She reached almost seven feet high. Her purple skin reminded him of lavenders and her white hair, of snow. Her eyes were pitch black, sucking him in if he looked too long. Her face was slightly pointed, and her expression was hard— letting him know he didn’t have a choice but to obey her. She was dressed in a short, black cocktail dress, accessorized with a golden bracelet that held throwing knives all the way around.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Are you just going to stare at us all day, or let us in?” The Daemon girl folded her arms in front of her.

Micah stepped to the side and they entered. He shut the door behind them.

“Are you okay?” He noticed that they were both breathing heavily and motioned for them to come sit in the kitchen to catch their breath.

“We went into town last night and tried to find a place to stay but everywhere was full,” she put air quotes around the word ‘full’ as she took as seat on one of the benches. “Or they just plain shooed us out. Eventually, a few of them gathered together and literally chased us out of town.” She put her head in her hands. Her male companion had followed them into the kitchen but remained standing. His arms were crossed over himself and he was nodding at the story she told. Though they were both intimidating in stature, the male was the embodiment of the word Daemon. His skin was fire red, complete with black horns and eyes. His black hair was cut close to his skull, giving him a military look that was common for Daemons. His attire was more practical than the woman’s. A simple black shirt and pants were accompanied with combat boots and the hilt of a broad sword peeking over his shoulder. Micah glanced over at the basket again, the hilt of his father’s sword just visible over the rim.

“Did they follow you here?” Micah asked. He tried to sound calm but now with these two, he couldn’t help but feel like there was a lot of contraband in his house. The last thing he needed was a horde of disgruntled people burning down his summer home.

“No, we lost them in the field some time back. The rest of the night we just walked, lost ourselves, until we saw this house in the distance.” She pushed her hair back with her hands and looked at him. “Thank you, you know, for letting us in.”

Micah nodded, relaxing slightly. If they wanted to attack him, they would have surely done it by now?

“Do you want some tea?” He moved around the counter towards the cabinets that held the herbs and spices, in desperate need for caffeine. He kept an eye on his visitors as he filled the kettle with water.

“Why are you being so nice to us?” the girl Daemon asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “The rest of your kind chased us out of town and here you are making us tea.”

Micah hesitated. Why was he doing this for all of them? Overnight he seemed to have turned this house into an international shelter.

“The daggers on your arm were pretty convincing.” He replied, handing them both a cup. “So, who do I have the pleasure of smuggling today?”

The Daemon girl answered after taking a sip. “I’m Nevari Angelbane and this is my brother-”

“Melech.” The other Daemon said. While Nevari’s voice was almost brassy, his was low and quiet. Micah nodded towards him.

“Yeah,” Nevari looked at her brother before continuing. “This idiot is the reason we ended up here. He rushed us out of Motaiden in the middle of the night with no rhyme or reason. We’ve been running ever since.”

Micah remembered seeing the Daemon country of Motaiden shown to him on a map once. It followed the Western border along the sea. The land was filled with giant volcanoes that the Daemons lived in. Their cities were hidden underground, and very hot.

“There was a reason.” Melech said, annoyed. “Motaiden was corrupted and we needed to escape before it was too late.”

“Corrupted?” Micah echoed. What did he mean corrupted. Motaiden was run like an army, without a normal type of government. It was supposed to be the most cohesive nation because of it. If Motaiden was broken, there was no hope for the already fragile governments of the other nations.

Micah's train of thought was interrupted when he heard a creak on the stairs. Melech moved in what seemed like a second, his sword was in his hands before Micah could blink. He turned to see who had come down the stairs and realized it was Venali.

“Why does everyone feel the need to pull a weapon on me every time I enter a room?” he asked. “First Cecilia and now...” He tilted his head to look at Melech.

“It’s alright,” Micah held out his hands to Melech, who did not move to put his sword away. “I’ll get you a cup.” He said to Venali and padded over to the kettle. “Where’s Cecilia?”

“I’m right here,” she said before Venali could answer. She looked wide-eyed at the sword in Melech’s hand, which he had finally lowered from Venali’s throat.

“Is this like a boarding house or something?” Nevari asked, looking from Cecilia to Venali and back again.

“Or something,” Micah replied, offering Cecilia a cup, which she declined.

“Well, help yourselves to anything else you want, it won’t keep after we leave anyway.” Micah offered.

“We’re leaving?” Venali asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Nevari and Melech drew some attention in town and we need to get moving before they find all of you.”

“We?” Cecilia asked. “I mean, I’m so thankful for all you’ve done for us but I have to keep going. I’m looking for someone.”

“I think it would be better if we all stuck together.” Micah said. “I mean, I don’t mind helping you back to Aduial Amon safely, I could look for my sister on the way anyway.” He looked at Cecilia, then turned his gaze on the Daemons. “I also know that the Elves have a safe house for travelers from other states that you could stay at until whatever is happening in Motaiden blows over.”

“Except,” Venali interjected. “You know there is obviously one issue with that plan.” He looked expectantly at Micah. After he gave him a confused look, Venali set down his tea on the table. “You really don’t know do you?” he said.

“What? What do I not know?” Micah said, throwing up his hands in defeat.

“We can’t go to Aduial Amon.” He said.

“Why? Are you a wanted criminal or something? You look like a wanted criminal.” Micah replied.

“Ha ha.” Venali said, though there was no humor in his voice. “No, we can’t go because Aduial Amon is gone.”