“Excuse me! I have your breakfast!”  

Unwilling eyes flickered open, at first daunted by the raucous midmorning light that blazed through the thin curtains, illuminating the bedroom in a golden glow. Seraphina moaned begrudgingly and unconsciously wrenched the coarse bedsheets over her face to blockade the merciless sun and came daringly close to succumbing to her laziness. However, the moment her guard slackened as she descended into a sense of security, memories of storms of wings, shredding spears, her back pin-cushioned and copper congealed in the back of her mouth, she jackknifed into a sitting position, frantically checking herself for injuries. But her loose-limbed nightshirt was unpunctured and her limbs were very much intact, though the relief that realization brought was ultimately truncated as she warily studied her unknown surroundings.  

A modestly furnished space and a somewhat springy cot she assimilated as she cautiously planted her feet on the creaky floorboard. A gilded corner caught her eye as Seraphina turned in the direction of the nightstand, armed with a familiar thickset grimoire and an unilluminated oil lamp. She then swiveled around and noticed that her handbag, alongside the decorative pins and badges that were bespeckled behind the translucent screen, had blessedly been spared as well, situated on an adjacent armchair. She then caught sight of a flashing bolt of light in the corner of the window and padded over to investigate proper as she steadied herself on the windowsill. Her mouth fell agape.  

A rural but lively townscape of tightly packed abodes of white stone and clay-tilted roofs, backdropped by the resplendent silhouette of a cathedral intricately foregrounded by overcomplicated flying buttresses and crowned by twin belltowers which produced a low, melodious hum to accompany the merriment suffocating the streets. Flagstone thoroughfares and marketplaces teeming with townspeople in humble garbs perusing venues or crowding around the busking mages who were conjuring titillating performances, dancing with fireballs and juggling globes of clotted water. Seraphina was spooked away from the window when a miniature serpentiform creature with sheer, bug-like wings fluttered by and all right, this was a little too on the nose.  

Seraphina pinched herself for good measure but of course, the pain did not give way to the hopeful illusion that this was anything but her reality now, so she instead focused on reassessing the information she had on hand as she glimpsed at the book which, for better or worse, was completely dormant now, but she fully braced herself for the likelihood of another tantrum down the line. She then took note of the neatly folded clothes that were situated on the lip of the rumpled mattress and reevaluated her sorry state. Well, she could at least afford to change out of her pajamas before she considered going out into public.  

When she slipped the roomy sleepshirt off her shoulders however and caught a glance of her unclothed chest in the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, Seraphina raced over for a better view. First— her ears were bigger, longer, and sharper— but hilariously enough, that was hardly the most eye-catching differentiation. “What the fuck?” She wheezed confusedly, hesitating to touch the outline of the complex brand that had evidently been seared into the surface of her breastbone, symbolically overtop her heart, while she was busy dozing. It was a devilish insignia, the outer circumference fringed by enigmatic characters that distinctly pronounced a name unbeknownst to her, which she was able to translate as Malphas. Malphas.  

Her first major clue, in any case.  

Seraphina thereafter changed briskly, sliding on a cloak that was suspended on the coat rack near the entryway and secured herself underneath the hood, not bothering to recheck her reflection as she shouldered on her handbag and resecured the obedient tome under her armpit. After which, she prudently navigated her way down the narrow stairwell and reemerged in a desolate lobby. “Ah, there you are,” the hoary innkeeper croaked, pushing a serving tray packed with a fairly dense lineup for breakfast in her direction, and her eyes strayed as hunger nibbled at her insides. 

 “... That handsome gentleman who was with you said that you have been feeling unwell, so he specifically asked if I could deviate from our usual menu and prepare you something heartier... but with how generously he has supported our humble business, I would happily carve out the darn moon for him! Though in contrast with how you appeared when you two first arrived here, you seem a lot livelier already, at least! You must have been positively exhausted from your travels, you poor dear.”  

“There was someone else with me? What did he look like?”  

“Oh, you must be disoriented. But he was a bit of a curious fellow,” the innkeeper tip-tapped an outgrown nail against the dip of their wrinkled jaw as they patently scoured recent though disheveled memories. “Let’s see... he was intimidatingly tall... lean... dark, scruffy hair... though the oddest thing was undeniably his pure red eyes! They seemed absolutely sinister— I was about to call up the chevaliers from the cathedral since I presumed that some manner of villainous creature had broken into my inn, but I should have known better than to judge a book by its cover. The darling even helped me patch the hole in the roof that’s been driving me mad for months now! No more leaky ceilings and complaining guests!” 

“Dark hair... red eyes... hm.”  

Seraphina unzipped her handbag and extracted the latest edition of the Dark Ode and wordlessly pointed at the vampiric man printed on the cover. The innkeeper clapped a hand to their mouth as shock splintered across their well-worn front. “Oh! Why, that’s... that’s him! Is he famous? I had no idea!”  

“Uh-huh. Got you,” Seraphina stashed the volume away and reclosed her bag before nonchalantly roping it back around her shoulder. “And where did you say he went?” 

“Oh, he stepped out just a few minutes before you woke up! He shouldn’t have gotten far—” 

Seraphina then turned toward the door, and like a clap of lightning, she had left the bedraggled innkeeper in the dust, bolting out into the open townscape with her arms outstretched welcomingly. “Regulus! Rest me at the foot of your pitch-black throne and help yourself to every last drop—!”  

“Thrumming with energy this early in the morning, are we, little sparrow?”  

Skulking under the eave of the shopfront, a figure stepped out into the sunlight as Seraphina skidded to a stop. A fission of something resembling dread alongside vague excitement shot down her spine when she came face to face with a pair of incandescent, scarlet eyes and a velvety, deep timbre. 

Just as the innkeeper described, he was a jaw-droppingly tall gentleman with visible, lean musculature. He possessed a pale, almost ghostlike complexion and was enhaloed by long, unruly hair that was shaded pure obsidian. Moreover, the ensemble he sported was nothing short of extravagant, predominantly featuring blacks though punctuated by occasional notes of dark red, and consisting of a waistcoat-like piece with a layered jacket that was loosely curtained overtop, featuring long, fluttery coattails, a gross amount of intricate ornamentation and jewelry, and feathered adornments that veiled his broad shoulders. It was matched with a pair of crisp slacks and embellished boots with concerningly sharp heels that only served to further augment his naturally outrageous physique. Additionally, he came equipped with a pair of taloned gloves, decorative ruby earrings that marked his pointed ears, and a dusting of dark feathers that underlined his keen cheekbones. When he grinned, she noted that his teeth were abnormally acute.  

... Although he did not entirely parody Regulus, there were a number of overt similarities. Still, Seraphina took care to rein her eagerness back in and hugged the book tighter as she took a precautionary step backward. “... I had a feeling it was too good to be true. If I may a hazard a guess... you must have been the one who got me out of that bind back there, no? And since it’s extremely unlikely that you did so out of the kindness of your heart... I’d appreciate it greatly if you could provide me with a bit of... insight about... everything that is going on, if you don’t mind.”  

“Hm. I see... it is as I suspected. You did not summon me intentionally,” Seraphina traced red eyes as they contemplated the grimoire tucked between her arms. “... It must have occurred during the fallout. Doubtless an outlander like you even understands the significance of a pact... but even so, it is not as if a novice, even if they were convinced that they had all the necessary tools at their disposal— could so easily elicit the aid of an archdemon, hells, it’s not like your commonplace fiend... it requires a tremendous amount of concentration, magical insight, and mental fortitude... at least, it could not have been done without theoretically running afoul of complications... or at worse, outright possession,” he touched his chin as scorching eyes raked across her form.  

“... Which brings us to our current ordeal... a person from the Other Side, where magic is prohibited, was not only able to wield it effectively, but also channeled an advanced invocation... and there is also the matter of your appearance, which changed drastically once you were brought ashore for reasons unbeknownst to even me, echoing one of the ancient pureblooded elves... Interesting indeed. Well,” when the dark-haired man clapped his hands together, a discombobulated Seraphina, who had begun to zone out midway through, flinched like a flash of lightning had burst outside her window. “... As a denizen of the Inferno, I am only concerned about the details of our newly established contract— everything else is negligible. While it does tickle my curiosity, so long as you have the Gold Grimoire in your possession... I have a feeling that the truth will find us along the way.” 

“The Gold Grimoire,” Seraphina held up the tome in question to inspect it as its gold-leafed ornamentation consecrated in the pale sunlight. “... So, I unintentionally conjured a... what did you say you were? An archdemon?”  

“Malphas, my lady,” Malphas reiterated as he pledged and dropped his head like a loyal aide. “But you may refer to me however you wish.”