Elias sat cross-legged in the center of the dusty room, surrounded by half-empty books, half-full ink bottles, and a very full mug of regret.
Opposite him sat her. The small horned girl. Blanket cape, impish eyes, legs swinging off the edge of a stool far too tall for her.
"You still don't remember anything?" he asked, trying not to sound frustrated.
She shook her head, staring at the flame of a candle like it held all the answers.
"Not even your name?"
Her lips parted, slow, hesitant. "Re… va…"
Elias leaned forward. "Reva?"
She squinted harder, like forcing it out would crack the puzzle in her mind. "…Re…van…"
His heart dropped.
So close.
So dangerously close.
"Stop," he said quickly. "No need to force it. If that's all you remember, that's fine. Really. Great, even."
She blinked at him. "Why?"
"Because!" He stood up and began to pace, gesturing wildly with both arms. "Because your half-remembered name sounds suspiciously like one of the most dangerous figures in recorded demonic history!"
"…She was bad?"
"She bathed kingdoms in hellfire and summoned plagues with her laughter!"
The girl looked impressed. "Cool."
"No! Not cool!"
He rubbed his face, trying not to scream.
She tilted her head. "But you said I'm not her."
"Right, I did, and I stand by that—sort of. Technically. Spiritually. Look, the point is you're not her yet. Maybe ever. But you can't go around muttering her name in public, or anyone with half a brain and a rune reader will start connecting dots I very much don't want connected."
She stared.
"…That was a long sentence," she said.
He let out a strangled laugh. "Yes. Yes, it was. And now, you need a new name."
She perked up. "You'll name me?"
He froze.
That… hadn't occurred to him until just now.
He was trying to hide her, not adopt her.
But she was already looking at him with those expectant red eyes, her horns slightly glowing with excitement, her little tail wagging like a puppy discovering its first sock.
He was doomed.
"I'm not great with names," Elias confessed, digging through a small box of old scrolls for inspiration. "I once named a stray cat 'Meal Plan' because I found it during ration season."
The girl crinkled her nose. "That's awful."
"Exactly! You see my problem."
She hugged her knees to her chest, watching him throw out suggestions like crumpled drafts.
"How about Lira?"
"Too watery."
"Vexa?"
"Sounds like I sneeze."
"Nyra?"
"Sounds like someone who always loses in stories."
Elias groaned. "Alright, you pick something, Miss Critic."
She squinted at the wall, muttering syllables. "Mmm… Laloona. Sparkledoom. Or… Bun-Bun."
"Are those demonic titles or candy names?"
"I like 'Bun-Bun.'"
"No one is calling the last surviving soul-fragment of Revantra Bun-Bun."
"But I already named my blanket that."
"…Of course you did."
She sulked.
Elias sighed and sat beside her. "Look, how about something that fits you, but doesn't scream doom demon from hell?"
She considered that, then shrugged.
He looked at her face, her oddly old eyes, her too-sharp grin, her childlike but dangerous aura, the way her power pulsed even when she was still.
"Rhea," he said finally.
She blinked. "Rhea?"
"Short. Simple. Doesn't raise alarms. Sounds like someone who's sweet enough to pass as human… but strong enough to break your jaw if provoked."
She mulled it over.
Then smiled.
"Rhea," she repeated softly. "That's me."
Elias felt something shift in the air. Like a string pulled taut between them.
The Contract Mark on his hand pulsed once, softly, like it approved.
He swallowed hard.
He hadn't just named her. He'd acknowledged her.
"Alright, Rhea," he said, testing it out. "Can you not touch anything that glows ominously while I figure out breakfast?"
"No."
"What do you mean, 'no'?"
"I'm hungry and your rules are boring."
He turned back just in time to see her poking the strange black rune-stone from her cocoon like it was a fruit.
"Stop—!"
The stone flared red. The candle blew out.
The ceiling cracked.
Elias screamed as a floating orb of shadow spiraled out and bounced off the walls like a possessed dodgeball. It slammed into a pot, shattered a chair, and wedged itself in the rafters before dissolving into sparks.
They both stared at it.
Rhea grinned. "That was fun."
"You just summoned a void wisp! Do you know what that is!?"
"Nope. But it looked like a ghost jellybean."
He held his head. "I need a health potion. And a priest. And maybe an exorcist."
She scooted closer. "What's breakfast?"
"Not earned."
She pouted. "I can do more tricks if I get food."
"No more tricks!"
"But what if it's a useful explosion?"
"There is no such thing in this house!"
Later, after two bowls of stale grain porridge (her verdict: "better than socks"), Rhea sat curled up beside Elias, drawing random squiggles in the dust with her finger.
"Was I really that scary?" she asked suddenly.
Elias looked up from the notes he was scribbling. "Huh?"
"The… Revantra person. You said she was all fire and plagues and… laughter?"
"Yeah. She was basically a walking apocalypse."
Rhea looked down at her hands. "Do you think I'll become her?"
He paused.
Her tone wasn't mischievous. It wasn't proud. Just… uncertain.
"No," he said softly. "You're not her. Not unless you choose to be."
She looked up. "And if I don't remember?"
"Then we start new. With Rhea."
She leaned against his side and nodded. "…Rhea's a good name."
He smiled faintly. "Yeah. It suits you."
"Better than Bun-Bun?"
"Infinitely."
She smiled.
And somewhere deep within the arcane threads binding their souls, the mark pulsed again—warmer this time. A bond growing stronger.
Meanwhile, Far Away…
In a shadowed cavern miles beneath the scorched remains of an old battlefield, a dull stone pulsed.
Then another.
A cracked throne, long forgotten, flickered with embers.
And an ancient voice murmured into the void:
"…The Seal has fractured."
To be continued…