I've been learning more about this empire's machines and magic—stuff that sounds almost like stories, but isn't. Since I can't read well, Seraphina's been the one explaining it to me, trying to make sense of all these strange words and history. Arden usually handles the hard parts, but they want me to understand too, since I'm supposed to help here now.
Long ago, before even the current Empire, there was an ancient civilization buried beneath the land. Nobody really knows who they were. Their machines and metals don't rust or break, and strange lights glow in places where nothing else should.
The old emperor—Socharis Dalthun, grandfather to Radames—discovered this place by accident. He'd gone out into the desert to inspect the borders, or maybe hunt for resources, but instead found this ancient complex buried under the sand. The stories say it was quiet and still, but the machines inside looked almost alive, powered by something no one understands.
With no elves or dwarves nearby to explain the strange tech, the Empire had to figure it out themselves. Socharis used what he found mostly for building—better walls, stronger tools, bigger workshops. The Empire grew richer because of it.
When Socharis died just a few years ago, his grandson Radames took the throne. Young and sharp, he turned the old discoveries into new weapons and machines—like the Magi-guns and that Magi-Train we saw. He's more than just a ruler; people admire him for his strength and cleverness.
He also started the Institute of Arcanotech, where scholars and mages study the ancient technology and try to unlock its secrets. It was where inventors like Thalia and Veyran worked their chaotic magic, pushing boundaries that most kingdoms wouldn't dare cross. I got to glimpse inside once during my stay in the capital, and it's like magic and machines tangled together, working in ways I still don't fully understand.
It's strange to think how all of this began with one man wandering the desert and finding a secret no one else knew about. And now, that secret is what's shaping the whole empire.
I looked at Seraphina, trying to wrap my head around it all. "How big was that ancient place, anyway? I mean, if they still use stuff from it now, it must be huge, right?"
She didn't bother with fluff or excitement, just gave me a steady look. "Not just one, actually. Several complexes like that have been found over the years, scattered around the Empire's land."
Her voice was calm, almost matter-of-fact, like she was reciting facts rather than telling a story. "These weren't simple ruins. They're more like entire underground cities, built with materials and magic beyond anything we understand. Which means this land was inhabited long before humans arrived."
I blinked, the idea sinking in. "So, people lived here first? Before us?"
"Yes," she said, crossing her arms lightly. "We call them the Ancients, but their names and history are lost. No written records, no witnesses from other races like dwarves or elves. Just these machines and buildings left behind."
She gave a faint shrug. "We're lucky some of it still works. If it didn't, we wouldn't be standing where we are today."
Her tone wasn't harsh or cold, just practical. No need to dress it up with wonder or fear. It was just a fact — one I was still trying to digest.
I was still processing the whole "lost civilizations beneath our feet" thing when the air in the library shifted. Like someone had plucked a string I couldn't hear.
A soft knock, then the door creaked open just wide enough for a familiar silhouette to glide in. Regal posture, gloved hands, not a hair out of place.
Albrecht.
He bowed, as he always did, so perfectly it looked like he'd rehearsed it daily for the past thirty years.
"My apologies for the interruption, young lady," he said, gaze settling on me like I was a very mild inconvenience. "But you appear to have a visitor."
Seraphina's head lifted slightly from the book she was reading. "Who?"
Albrecht didn't blink. "For her," he replied, tipping his head in my direction.
Me?
I glanced around, like someone else might be sitting behind me. "A… visitor? Are you sure?"
The only people I could think of were already here. Elisabeth, maybe. Arden, I guess. Lysandria didn't strike me as the visiting type, and Sora had all but adopted the palace as her natural habitat at this point. Everyone else had clearance. What kind of visitor needed—
The double doors burst open with enough force to rattle the ink bottles on the shelves.
I yelped.
Standing in the doorway was a stranger. A girl I had absolutely never seen before in my entire life.
And she was beaming.
"There you are!" she declared, pointing at me with a dramatic flair that made her twin tails bounce. "I finally found you, Master!"
My brain hiccuped. "What."
She strode inside like she owned the floorboards. Silver-white hair streaked with pink, styled into sharp twin tails with tiny black bat-wing clips. Her dress was an explosion of gothic frills, cinched with silver buttons and more belts than seemed strictly necessary. Behind her, actual bat wings flapped—pink and black, dainty and somehow unnerving.
Seraphina shot to her feet, not shouting, not drawing her weapon, but suddenly extremely alert. Like a cat hearing the distant jingle of a bell it did not trust.
Even the air felt heavier. The girl's presence pressed into the room, not magical exactly—but something about her made my instincts scream danger in a singsong voice. Not malicious. Just… dangerous.
Albrecht let out a slow sigh, adjusting his cuffs like someone had spilled tea on his schedule.
"She insisted," he said quietly to Seraphina. "I was not in a position to refuse. Her identification matched with older records... and she was alarmingly persuasive."
Seraphina didn't relax. If anything, she tensed more.
Meanwhile, the strange girl sauntered right up to me, leaned over the table until her face was inches from mine, and grinned.
Sharp fangs. Mischievous eyes—red melting into yellow like molten gems. A tiny heart mark beneath one eye like a fashion choice—or a warning.
"Name's Lillith," she said sweetly. "I'm your familiar!"
I stared. Then blinked. Then slowly tilted my head.
"…W-huh? My familiar?"
Lilith pouted. Genuinely pouted—lower lip trembling like I'd just betrayed her on a spiritual level.
"Ohhh… you really don't remember me?" she said, wilting theatrically like a flower in a drought. "I knew it! I told myself not to get my hopes up, but still!" She sniffed, then peeked through her fingers at me with a sly little smirk. "Well… I guess it has been a long time. And I do look different."
She spun in place, frills twirling, wings fluttering just enough to kick a breeze across the table. I instinctively covered my teacup.
"I was much smaller back then," she went on, "and I didn't look nearly this charming. But you're still you, even if you've forgotten. And a contract's a contract! That makes you my Master."
"…Contract?" I echoed dumbly, still struggling to keep up. "I… I never made a contract with anyone. I—I think I'd remember that, unless I did it in my sleep or something, which—wait, even then, why would I ever…"
I stopped mid-sentence.
A realization thudded into place, cold and solid. Something Veyran had explained only days ago, in one of his slightly condescending lectures.
Humans couldn't form monster contracts. It was a specific, magical bond—one that only worked between a human and a creature classified as non-human.
My mouth went dry.
"You're…" I started.
Not human. That's what it meant.
Lillith grinned like a fox caught in the henhouse and delighted to be there.
"My real form's a bit different," she said, waving a hand in the air like she was dismissing a detail no one cared about. "I just figured you'd like this one better."
And then—she struck a pose.
Feet together, shoulders tilted, fingers curled beneath her chin in a practiced display of innocence. Her eyes shimmered like they'd been polished to catch light just right, and her smile turned impish, fangs peeking out like punctuation marks.
"Was I wrong to think you'd find me adorable, Master?" she asked, voice lilting with mock sweetness, as if every syllable came dipped in honey and mischief.
I stared.
There was a silence I didn't know how to break, the kind that stretches when your entire sense of reality tilts sideways. Somewhere behind her, Seraphina shifted stiffly, arms still crossed but her jaw had tightened. She hadn't relaxed since the door opened.
Albrecht, on the other hand, adjusted his gloves with all the calm of someone watching a storm pass from behind a sealed window.
And me?
I had no words.
Because unfortunately—
She was adorable.
In a deeply suspicious, winged-devil-dressed-like-a-doll kind of way. But still.
Adorable.
And that, I suspected, was entirely the point.
Seraphina's voice cut through the moment like a blade through silk.
"What is your business with her?" she asked, not moving an inch from where she stood, arms still crossed tight against her chest. "If you've come here to take advantage of someone vulnerable within the palace walls, you'll regret the attempt."
The words landed heavier than I expected.
I wasn't even sure if I flinched outwardly, but something inside me did. Maybe because they weren't wrong. I was weak. Or at least… I wasn't strong. Not like Arden. Not like Seraphina. And definitely not like the little bat-winged devil who'd just marched in like she owned the floorboards.
But Lillith's pout deepened into something stormy.
"I don't need a reason," she said sharply. "Do I need an ulterior motive to want to be with my beloved Master?"
Her wings gave a slight flick as she turned fully to Seraphina, voice rising in tempo.
"And she's not weak. Just because she doesn't scowl at everything or throw around fancy light spells doesn't mean she's useless. You don't know her like I do."
I blinked. Once. Twice. I still didn't know what she was talking about.
But before Seraphina could answer, another voice entered the fray.
"Ahem."
Albrecht cleared his throat with the kind of subtle authority that could stop a charging warbeast.
"I have observed no signs of falsehood in Miss Lillith's words," he said calmly, adjusting one of his immaculate gloves. "She is not lying. Whatever her intentions, they appear sincere. Deeply so."
Seraphina turned her head slightly toward him—just slightly. But something shifted in her stance. Not quite relaxed, but the tension in her shoulders eased. She didn't say anything else, but I could feel her guard lower by a hair.
And I couldn't help but wonder what it was about Albrecht's words that carried so much weight. Was it trust? Some spell woven into the air? Or perhaps—some uncanny ability to pull truth from silence?
Whatever it was, it worked.
And somehow, that made this whole strange encounter feel even more real.