Iitys sat behind Miach, guiding his hands as they cupped a sprout for a bean plant, dirt and all. Their breathing was synced, and Iitys’ tail was wrapped around his waist for extra assurance that he wouldn’t get distracted and run off during the exercise. Lightning from the growing storm below Rivervault created brief flashes of illumination that only added to the creepy air of the void aurora.

He felt her channel her magic through his hands and into the plant, and tried to focus on what he could sense of it. It hummed through his hands, gentle and warm, and then out of his fingertips into the plant, trying to coax it to grow. The plant did start to grow, after a few minutes. Tendrils crawled over his hands and tried to anchor themselves down.

He could barely taste the little bean plants eagerness to do as it was told. A brush of awareness, but not nearly as potent as what Iitys had said she felt when using her magic, and that was what they were aiming for. Since her magic had changed how his body digested, for lack of a better word, magic, they thought that when it did get to the point where Miach was able to use said magic, he’d probably inherit Iitys’ type of magic instead of the Kings.

Iitys also had a theory that when his magic started to come through, he’d probably start slowly turning to match his new core, which meant it opened the possibility of speech for him.

The exercise with the plants was a gentle way to coax his core into starting to produce any magic it could, instead of just sitting there and adjusting on its own.

The only real drawback to the exercise was how tired it made Miach. He was pretty sure Iitys was also using their little exercise to make him go to bed as opposed to his staying up and sneaking out.

It had only happened like, once, and he hadn’t even gotten very far, but she was still upset about it.

In fact, the more distracted he got, the more he felt himself slumping to the side.

Iitys separated their hands and removed the little bean sprout, putting it in the garden and guiding it up it’s trellis. Miach really did try to stay sitting up, but it was Iitys’ tail that was doing most of the work on that front. Once the bean sprout was taken care of, Miach was forced to stand and walk the rest of the way into their cabin. It felt like it took ages, but the walk was maybe only four minutes, tops.

Iitys insisted he walk after they did the magic thing, something about getting his body used to using magic and moving instead of using magic and going to sleep.

He didn’t get it, but he was too tired to get anything much.

“Are you being excited to be seeing of the King?” Iitys asked him, guiding Miach to the hearth for dinner.

Miach yawned and nodded, trying to grab the bowl of soup the wrong way. Iitys just placed it on the table in front of him, not waiting for that disaster to happen.

“Are you to be causing of the problems for the King like as you to do for the Head Priestess Iphal?” That question was asked a little more severely, and Miach shook his head.

The King hadn’t earned Miach’s ire. Iphal had.

Granted, most of the time when Miach fucked around with Iphal, Iphal would find him in less than five minutes and set him to writing ‘I will not do XYZ again’ over and over with a charcoal stick on paper. She’d found out that while he could not speak Demonic, he could write it, and she used that against him in retaliation for his pranks.

Upside, his handwriting was getting very good; so was his reading and listening comprehension. He was starting to understand certain words and phrases in Demonic aside from ‘no’.

Downside, it made his hands hurt and everything he touched ended up stained with charcoal dust.

Iphal was strict, and everything had to run just so in her temple. Miach made things not run just so, and she had decided to take personal offense to that. She seemed to have zero fear about his connection with her King, and honestly, Miach found that refreshing.

She was a bitch, but she knew she was a bitch, and she used that bitch energy to get shit done.

They’d entered an uneasy understanding. He’d cause problems, she’d catch him and watch him until Iitys was done teaching her classes, and she’d inadvertently teach him new words from scolding him or from forcing him to write it repeatedly.

She was an unlikely teacher, and Miach valued what she’d taught him, but he had a new idea for what to do to fuck with her next.

He shoved the last spoonful of soup in his mouth and leaned forward to rest his head on the table, eyes closing against his will.

He was gonna release so many spiders in her office. So many.

He barely noticed Iitys picking him up and carrying him over to his room, the last thought in his head about how angry and screech-y Iphal was going to be as he drifted to sleep.

----------------------------------------

The trip to Dawngold was, in a word; uneventful.

Iitys had been fully prepared for his hyperactive nature, and the priests and priestesses she’d brought along were older and less likely to slip up when it came to looking after a child. Miach didn’t know any of them, save for Kadyr.

Kadyr was more likely to let Miach into the woods, even for a little bit, so long as Miach wore that stupid child leash Iitys had upgraded; it had a little harness and was more comfortable. It also had a complicated series of ties in the back that Miach couldn’t reach. He hated it with a passion. Iitys had fully prepared books from Zonjal and made games to continue Miach’s education, and was far less forgiving when it came to letting him go where he wanted.

The trip had been planned, something about the fancy letters that Iitys received every day, and going earlier than normal. The King had managed to subdue any potential uprising of demons wanting to take out the lone human sitting so close to their throne, and had been sending letters to Rivervault every single day. Iitys ire at just seeing the golden wax seal had started to get so bad that Miach had taken it upon himself to just…hide them. Take them and stuff them away so she couldn’t throw them in the hearth.

He wasn’t sure what punishment, if any, came from burning a royal edict in Joaalu, and he also had no desire to find out.

Miach was torn between feeling put out that he was leaving Rivervault and begrudgingly excited that he was visiting Dawngold. On one hand, he lost time to bother Zonjal and make Iphal’s life a living hell. On the other hand, he got to see the big city again, with all of its food vendors and Regla and the King.

Ultimately food won.

“Please? Please? Pretty please?” Miach did not beg, clutching Iitys robes and trying to give her the good old puppy dog eyes. “Just one vendor, just that one, right there? I’ve been good! I only tried to run like, four times today! That’s eight less than usual!”

Iitys did not look swayed.

“It’s not like I went very far anyways! The stupid leash keeps stopping me! And I read that storybook in full Demonic!”

Iitys delicately held one clawed hand to her forehead, looking pained.

“I’ve only had that old guy’s porridge for like, three days, Iitys! Please!”

“Fine!” Iitys finally snapped, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Fine, you can be having the foods from that one. Just that one. But we are to be going to the palace right after this thing!”

Miach lunged for the vendor outside the city gate, the child leash pulling taught at eight feet or so. But he didn’t care; he strained against it, deliberately leading Iitys to the bewildered stall owner.

The food the owl demon offered was strange; little ovals that were deliberately burned on the outside, charred skin that had salt thrown on.

Iitys ordered one for him and herself, then sighed before ordering two more.

Kadyr already had most of their belongings through the gate by the time Iitys pulled him aside and offered him the extra two sticks. He seemed delighted, and Miach ignored their conversation as he took his own stick into consideration. There had to be a reason that it was deliberately burned, and even though he’d begged for it, he was a little cautious to go at it.

He gave it a nibble.

He shoved half of it into his mouth and closed his eyes in bliss.

The inside was soft and far, far too sweet. Jaw-achingly sweet, in fact. The burned outer shell and salt helped tone it down so that it was edible.

He dubbed it Diabetes on a Stick.

He was about to take another bite when the stick refused to move from its place. Someone was holding it.

Miach’s eyes snapped open so he could glare at the bitch that was touching his food, but Regla’s eyes met his own. Regla had already torn the rest of the treat from the stick while Miach had been preoccupied, and once acknowledged, stole the stick out of Miach’s hand to pick between his teeth, smirking.

“How the fuck did you know to come here?” Miach asked idly, knowing Regla wouldn’t be able to understand him.

Regla leisurely reached behind Miach and tugged at the child leash, snickering. Miach turned, fully intent on wrestling with the little imp, but felt the weight of the harness disappear.

Regla grinned even wider as it clattered to the ground.

“Miach, do not run,” Iitys warned, voice low in the way that all overstressed parents got when they were on their last nerve.

Miach decided to not run.

He instead led Regla to the wagon, intent on showing him the story books written in Common and Demonic. Maybe he could teach Regla a few words in Common, make it so they could understand each other.

----------------------------------------

Iitys, true to her word, had the wagon drive straight to the Palace.

Miach, true to his word to himself, managed to teach Regla three important words in Common.

Regla, true to himself, started to use them immediately at inappropriate times.

“Fuck!” Regla cried, pointing at the massive doors to the Palace.

“Indeed, they are fucking big.” Miach agreed.

Iitys buried her face in her hands. Kadyr patted her on the back, clearly not understanding exactly why she was done with Miach, but understanding that she was, in fact, very done with her foster son.

The wagon slowly stopped, and Regla was the first to hop out, waving at Miach before he started to dart away. Then he paused.

With an uncharacteristic seriousness, Regla stared Miach down and pointed in the direction of one of the streets.

“No. Fuck no. No, no, no.” Regla said, shaking his head.

Miach sighed, nodding.

The seriousness disappeared as though it had never been there, and Regla ran off, shouting something in Demonic.

“He is saying that he is to be going to find of the best vendors, and that you are to be wait here when you are being done with the King. He will be coming to picking you up with some of the friends of his.” Iitys translated, picking Miach up and tucking him under one of her arms like a wayward small dog.

Miach let her, knowing he’d antagonized her with his boredom enough on the journey to Dawngold.

He couldn’t help it, though. He just had so much energy, and the forest was so much more interesting than the road. He could only read so much before he literally could not force his brain to focus on the page, could only play a game so many times before his leg was bouncing so hard the wagon would start to rock.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

As an adult mind in a child brain, while he hadn’t been a psychologist in his previous life, he would be fairly confident in saying that little Braech McDonnell definitely had ADHD or something. Which, by extension, meant that Miach did, and holy shit was it a bitch and a half.

He could only focus when his brain decided to allow it, he got overwhelmed by inconsequential tasks, his only saving grace in terms of realizing what tasks were important the day of and what ones could be put off was his previous experience as an adult, and the hyperfixation. Oh, the hyperfixation.

Great news; he could write the name of every single stone type on Rivervault in Demonic, or in a close approximation to it. Bad news; he spent so long learning how to do that that he horrifically offset learning other words in Demonic, like how to write ‘thanks’ or ‘goodbye’. Why had he done that? He had no idea.

He genuinely felt bad about Iitys bearing the brunt of it. She just happened to be around him the most, so she had the unfortunate happenstance of dealing with pretty much all of it.

He just had to find out how to make it up to her. Which he would! He just had to figure out how.

Zonjal probably had some ideas. Miach would just ask him.

Iitys carried him through the massive, overly ornate halls to throne room. Miach let himself go limp, staring at the floor as he was carted to the King like an unruly child.

Which, like, he probably was. But still. Rude.

His ears perked up when he heard a distant rumbling sound, steadily growing louder the closer they got. The King was already addressing someone, then. Maybe he’d get to see another high standing demon! Just as Miach wriggled to look up, though, Iitys did something she had never done before.

She stopped before entering the throne room, and turned to speak to one of the guards. Her grip on Miach did not loosen at all, and it sounded like she was deliberately talking faster than he could pick individual words out. Naturally, this made Miach far more curious than he normally would have been.

With much twisting in her grip, he managed to get a look at the guard’s face.

It was carefully blank. The guard wasn’t looking at him, and he wasn’t allowing anything to show on his face. He just kept his eyes on Iitys, and answered her with equally fast Demonic.

Iitys turned on her heel and walked down a corridor he’d never seen before. It was smaller, clearly meant for demons not as big as the King, and not nearly as lavishly decorated. Muted and accented in gold with a story engraved in the walls that seemed to span the entire length of the hall.

The trip was long compared to when he got lifts from the KIng, but they eventually found themselves in the family room he usually took them to.

Iitys plopped Miach down in a lift, got beside him, and started turning a handle, slowly taking them up the side of the table that hosted their specific section. Miach darted for his spot on the couch, and had just managed to sit down when the King’s door to the room creaked open.

The old demon looked pissed. He looked tired.

Then, when he saw Miach, he just looked happy.

----------------------------------------

The meeting with the King was a little anticlimactic, Miach thought.

The demon had insisted Miach spend it sitting in the palm of his hand, had asked about his day, asked about Rivervault, and been content to let Miach write down the names of every single rock he’d found on the floating island.

It was a long list.

For hours Miach was slowly covering his hands in charcoal with paper surrounding him, sitting on a hand large enough to be a cart, regaling the King with the names of those rocks and his pranks on Iphal.

There was a moment, when Miach stopped for breath, when one massive claw delicately reached forward and knocked against the charm bracelet on Miach’s wrist. Iitys had taken over that explanation, speaking fast again. Which was fine by Miach, he had no desire to do a retelling of how a goddess had decided to hunt him.

The King took the information with grace, nodding along, and saying something in response.

Iitys nodded, turning to Miach.

“He will be ordering much of the replacements for the charms, to be ensuring of Nyxla not stealing of you.”

Miach felt something he hadn’t even realized was there settle down, and a small wave of relief went through him.

It was another hour before the King delicately put him down on the table, where a guard was waiting.

“He is telling of you to do the playing with Regla,” Iitys translated, not moving from her spot of lounging in the King’s palm. “Go to follow the guard to the doors, Miach, and you are to be being back at temple by stormrise.”

Miach did not need to be told twice, and dragged the draconic demon guard to the lift.

The guard said nothing the entire ride, and barely looked at him as he guided the small human through the halls and back to the front of the palace, very obviously avoiding the throne room still. Miach…had a feeling it wasn’t something he wanted to know. It wasn’t like he could ask, anyways.

The nervous glance the guard gave the entrance doors to the throne room, however, cemented that Miach wanted nothing to do with whatever was behind those doors. Nope. He wanted nothing to do with it, so fucking sir. He was steering clear of whatever the fuck was in there.

He just kept pace with the guard until he saw the actual entrance, and then bolted.

He’d kept the guy company long enough.

Miach launched himself out of the door and into the city, and also right into another demon’s shins, forcing them to trip over him.

Fortunately, they caught themselves before faceplanting.

Miach caught a glimpse of two brown, fuzzy tails. He turned to face the demon, and they pulled themselves to their full height. The demon was about the height of an average human, looked affronted before it melted into amusement, and was clearly a kitsune.

Miach felt small hands pulling him back, and Regla’s face appeared in his line of sight. Instead of talking to the adult that his human friend had run into, however, he kicked the adult in the shin and dragged Miach down the stairs to another kid.

The new kid also had brown hair, a brown fox tail, and…oh this was clearly that other demon’s kid. Regla had just kicked this kid’s father.

“Regla!” Miach hissed, glancing over his shoulder at kid number two’s dad, who was cheerfully waving at them.

“No. Larel.” Regla replied snottily, motioning at the other kid.

Larel, who very much looked like Regla had woken him from a nap and dragged him halfway across the city, waved lazily. The kid’s claws were so unkempt that they were starting to curl, and Miach wondered distantly if there were any shops that sold nail trimmers for dogs.

Then one of those hands reached out, grabbed onto Miach’s shirt, and gently led him down the steps of the Palace.

“Oh, okay. What is…where are we going? What is this?” Miach asked, glancing between Larel and Regla, who just followed alongside Miach and was chattering nonstop.

Miach reached out and tugged on Reglas shirt, shrugging and motioning at Larel once he got the kid’s attention.

Regla mimed shoving something in his mouth, pointed at Larel, and then at his own head.

“Fuck yes,” Regla added, nodding emphatically.

Miach…assumed that Larel was there to guide them to other good food stands? That he had good ideas, maybe? Or Larel needed medicine because his brain was about to explode.

Regla wasn’t done. He pointed at himself, Larel, and Miach, and then held up seven fingers. Then he punched his fist into his hand, nodded, mimed making a bubble around his human friend, and derailed into excited Demonic chattering that was so fast Miach didn’t even try to keep up.

Did…did that mean he was going to make Miach fight seven demons? Was he being invited to a fight club?

“I should go to the temple,” Miach tried to derail, trying to take a turn down an alleyway that he knew would eventually lead there. Probably.

Larel, without missing a beat, whipped around and picked Miach up.

Well…shit. He didn’t have a choice.

Regla was taking him to a fight club or something.

----------------------------------------

It was not a fight club, it was just a bunch of other kids waiting impatiently outside of a bakery. One of them, a girl with pale white skin and blindingly white hair, was regaling the rest of the kids with a story. They were listening with varying levels of interest, some politely nodding, some outright ignoring, and one actually getting very involved.

Regla shouted something at them, which apparently started off an argument? Because the one who had been actually listening to the girl genuinely looked pissed and started shouting at Regla.

Larel, however, managed to deescalate the situation with a single word.

Miach had no idea what that word meant.

It did succeed in preventing Regla from lashing out at the other kid, though. It also stopped the story the girl was telling and gained the attention of the entire group.

Miach waved awkwardly as Larel plopped him down.

Larel started pointing at the kids and speaking far too fast for Miach to comprehend anything beyond the fact that he was being given a list of names.

“Gozis, Jozra, Kagra, Malva, Ozgu, Ulvos, Zacra.”

Miach was already starting to forget those names, and had no idea what name belonged to who.

Larel, apparently an expert at just not giving a fuck, clapped his hands and led the way into the bakery. The group of children and Miach stood in front of it, staring each other down. Well, some of them were trying to stare Regla down, but Miach had no idea what that was about, so he opted to make it into a staring contest with the talky girl.

She seemed to catch on quickly, and shoved past her ardent admirer to get closer and right up in Miach’s face. One of the boys, with vibrant red skin and four pitch black eyes, made a surprised sound and shoved his way into their staring contest.

Then the little girl started blowing air into Miach’s eyes. They watered, but Miach stood fast and blew air in the boy’s. Regla, or at least Miach assumed it was Regla, started waving his hands to blow air into the little girl's eyes.

By the time Larel came out with arms full of baked goods, it had devolved into nine kids shouting at each other, with three of them in the middle that had tears streaming down their faces. He ended the contest by shoving muffins in everyone’s faces until it was forgotten about. He herded them into a sort-of-clean alley that was out of the way, and situated himself at the entrance, leaving the rest of them to their own devices.

Which was great, because Miach hadn’t wanted to embarrass the kids by winning, because he was a mature and responsible adult in mind. Which was why he definitely ate his muffin with decorum, and did not shove it into his face so fast that most of it smeared on his cheeks. There was just some excess that must have been on his hands that was rubbed off onto them.

One of the kids, another girl who looked so much like her she had to be related to the one he’d started the contest with, made a disgusted sound. Her relative, however, snickered and changed how she ate so that it was also mostly on her face.

“Jozra,” Larel sighed, and Miach was struck with the knowledge that the kitsune kid was, more than likely, a babysitter. He felt the affront start to show on his face, but one of the other kids caught his eye and shook his head.

The kid was delicately picking apart his muffin with blue tinted skin. Black stripes that looked more like veins traced his face, there were parts of his skin that shimmered oddly, and extra folds of skin prevalent on his neck. Miach was at a loss as to what species of demon the kid could have been. The kid finished off his muffin, sniffed as he wiped his hands on a handkerchief, and stood up, punching his hand into his fist and saying something to Larel.

Larel, who had long finished with his own muffin, just stood up and nodded.

Then he paused, looked at Miach, and pointed at the kid.

“Zacra,” Larel offered, still trying to teach Miach everyone’s names.

Miach didn’t even have time to nod before Zacra was thrown to the ground. Zacra stood up, brushed himself off, and tried to attack Larel again. Larel put him on the ground again, and gave a short burst of…praise? Something, and Zacra would nod before trying again.

This happened a few more times, each time taking longer for Zacra to go down, before Miach realized what this was.

It was an older kid who knew how to fight, who was offering to teach younger kids how to do it.

He looked over to Regla, who was practically vibrating with excitement and only had eyes for the lesson.

Regla’s distraught face from the bird demon’s attack came to mind, and Miach leaned back and settled in with a sigh. His friend had been pretty messed up about Miach getting attacked, of course he would want Miach to learn how to fight.

Miach would humor him; he’d planned to learn at some point anyways.

----------------------------------------

They were going to stay in Dawngold for four months, and then back to Rivervault for eight. Per Iitys, this was the schedule that they were to follow normally. She would be needed in Dawngold to give the beginning courses to demons that were contemplating joining the Priesthood, which only had classes available for a set amount of time, and then the rest of the year she was needed at Rivervault, to train the ones that had chosen to join.

His guest room he’d been using previously was actually his room, to decorate and use as he pleased.

The letters that King Fayid had been sending Iitys had just jumped up their schedule by a few weeks. No one was welling Miach what had been done after the attack, but the dissenters among the demon population were far less obvious about it now.

That…that was actually very concerning.

At least he’d been able to easily spot them before. If they were putting up an act and pretending to be fine with his existence, then how was he supposed to know who he needed to protect himself from? Short answer; he’d have to suspect anyone and everyone older than him.

Well, anyone and everyone except Larel.

The fox demon kid had already fended off two attacks before they could become an actual issue, bringing the adults to their knees and forcing them to bow to Miach.

According to Iitys, Larel’s father, who Miach had almost tripped that day, was a general. Larel was being groomed to be the perfect soldier, even at just ten, and was a fantastic fighter. Larel’s father was currently stationed in Dawngold to serve the King directly, and had only been in the city since about a week after Miach was attacked by the bird demon.

She didn’t say it outright, but Miach knew how to read between the lines.

Larel’s father had been called in to ‘deal’ with any possible chance of someone plotting against the throne or Miach.

Miach did feel bad about being the apparent reason that Larel’s family was uprooted, but opted to try to make it up to his unofficial fighting teacher by bringing him snacks stolen from the temple kitchen.

Hence, his current attempt.

The chef had made some sort of tart, and he knew for a fact that there was extra. No one made just one batch of tarts for an entire group, there were always some that were a little burned or a little misshapen tucked away for the cooks to partake in. They wouldn’t mind if one or two went missing.

He was precariously balanced on a stool, on his tiptoes, reaching up into a cabinet.

The stool tilted.

He braced himself for a fall.

Gentle hands scooped him up and held him higher so he could actually reach the tarts.

Miach took a moment to unfreeze himself before tentatively reaching out to take two of them.

“You always did have a sweet tooth,” a very concerningly familiar voice said behind him, just as those hands pulled him in so he could be carried on the woman’s hip.

Miach almost dropped the tarts, staring in shock at his mother. Not Iitys. Not Mrs. McDonnell. His mother from Earth, from when he was Andrew.

“…Mom?”

This had to be a dream. She was completely and totally human, just as she had always been, and hummed showtunes as she carried him to his room, just as she always had. The lightning lit up the halls, outlining her face and curly, bouncing hair.

“You know,” she said quietly, like she was sharing some great secret, “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to steal from a temple. A little bit like stealing from the offering bowl at church, right?”

Miach leaned back, affronted.

“I didn’t steal from it, that was Brian!” He argued, falling back into an old pattern by instinct.

She laughed and jostled him as she opened the door to his room, gracefully sliding inside and quietly closing it behind them with her foot. She set him down on his bed and took the tarts from him, gently setting them on the table in the room.

“Well, it wasn’t like that pastor was going to use the money for anything other than his fancy car anyways,” She sighed, walked over to sit next to Miach and drag him into a one armed hug.

Miach latched onto her, refusing to let go.

“I think you’ll like it here,” She hummed, running her fingers through his hair. “You’re a little terror, always have been, but I think this place will be good for you. You just need to survive it.”

“What the hell is that-“

She flicked him on the nose.

“Language, Miach.”

Why had that actually hurt?

“Wait, is this not a-“

“I think you need to start asking Iitys about her religion, and the god the demon’s worship,” His mom interrupted him, squeezing him even tighter as the hand that had just so rudely assaulted his nose moved and messed up his hair. “But you need to wake up to do that, first.”

Miach blinked -

- He was staring at his ceiling.

When he turned his head, there were two tarts and one of the temple offering bowls on the table.