Chapter 14: Chapter 13: The Wolf, the Star, and the Thorn

Upon reaching the gates of the Demon Lord’s castle, we were immediately stopped by the guards. The soldier escorting us explained the situation and handed over a letter—though I had no idea where he’d pulled that from.

These guards looked completely different from the ones stationed at the city gate. It wasn’t just their appearance—it was the aura they gave off. Hardened. Like warriors who had not only survived battle, but ended many.

"Alright, we’ll take them. After confirming her identity, you’ll receive your reward," one guard said curtly.

The bandits didn’t seem thrilled by that response.

“No way in hell are we leaving without our reward,” one snapped, setting off a chorus of protests.

Just as it felt like things were about to spiral into a full-blown brawl, something caught Mom’s attention—and a second later, I knew why.

The air shifted. That awful pressure I’d felt not long ago—the one I hated more than anything—was back.

A figure emerged from the mist, stepping forward like a shadow carved from the night itself.

He was enormous—taller than any man I’d seen—and entirely wolf-like, save for the bipedal stance that betrayed his unnatural origin. His fur was pitch black, matted in places, but glossy in others, like wet obsidian catching the light. Jagged bones jutted out from his spine, snout, hands, and legs—thick, twisted protrusions that looked more like natural armor than deformities.

His left eye was hidden beneath a deep, vicious scar that ran like a slash through his fur and flesh, the wound raw but somehow still fierce. The other eye gleamed a savage yellow, sharp and calculating. When he moved, it was with the lethal grace of a predator that had long accepted its monstrous fate.

I trembled, instinctively hiding behind Mom.

She placed her hand on my head.

"Don’t worry, dear. Everything is fine," she said, smiling softly. Her voice soothed me just enough to ignore the silence that followed. Not even the bandits—usually loud and obnoxious—dared to speak now.

"What’s all this noise for?" the figure asked, calm but cold. His voice didn’t rise, yet it cut through everyone like a blade.

“That voice…” I muttered.

It came from the creature shaped like a man and a wolf combined. A werewolf, maybe. I didn’t know what that was, but it fit.

“S-Sir,” the soldier saluted. “They claim to have captured the ‘Bloody Shadow’… and they refuse to leave without their reward.”

The wolf-man looked toward Mom, squinting. He gave a short sniff and frowned.

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Mom didn’t smell bad though! She always smelled… sweet.

"Give them their reward," he said. "I’ll personally take her to the Demon King."

He glanced at her one last time before turning and walking off. Mom followed in silence, and I, of course, followed her.

After a while, the wolf finally spoke.

"...Do you regret running away?"

"Not in the slightest," Mom replied without hesitation.

"I see." Then nothing.

We walked on. Eventually, he stopped, turned, and looked down at me.

"And… who might this be?"

I tensed up.

"Her name is Ar’cen," Mom answered.

The wolf raised an eyebrow, then sniffed again.

"...She’s not adopted, is—"

Before he could finish, Mom’s fist flew at his face. He dodged it by tilting his head.

"Care to finish that sentence?" she asked, her tone calm but absolutely terrifying.

"Guess not," he muttered, stepping back slightly.

"And why do you keep smelling her?"

"..."

He opened his mouth, paused, then sighed.

"I feel like I’ve smelled her scent before."

Mom’s face lit with smug pride.

"Of course you have. She’s my daughter, after all."

The wolf hesitated again, then gave a long, tired sigh.

“Sure. Whatever.”

They really did sound like old friends… or rivals too stubborn to quit.

The rest of the walk was in silence until we reached the castle doors. They took forever to get to, but at least the garden along the way was beautiful. Flowers, strange plants, and vines that shimmered with magic lined the path.

But when the doors opened…

It felt like a wall of cold water splashed across my face. The hallway inside didn’t seem to have an end. My eyes couldn’t even find a focal point.

Mom giggled at my stunned expression and gave me a gentle pat.

We passed several butlers and maids in identical uniforms. All of them bowed as we walked by.

Then we stopped.

A woman blocked our way.

She wore a maid’s uniform—but it was different from the others. Fancier. More form-fitting. Not just that—her aura was different. Poised. Elegant. Dangerous.

She was beautiful. Not as beautiful as Mom, but close.

She had long bluish-silver hair that shimmered under the hallway’s enchanted lights. And her eyes—

One was golden like mine. The other was a piercing icy blue.

A cambion like me?

She bowed slightly to Vahr, then looked toward Nysera.

“Sir Vahr… and Nysera. It seems your luck finally ran out.”

Her tone was flat, but there was a twist of amusement in it. Mockery dressed in politeness.

"It has indeed been a while…" Nysera replied, trying to sound calm, though I could tell she was pissed.

I glanced at Vahr, whose expression screamed ‘Here they go again.’

“Ahem,” he cut in. “We need to see the Demon Lord.”

“Unfortunately, he’s in an important meeting,” the maid replied smoothly. “If you’d be patient, I’ll inform him.”

“Fine. In the meantime, send me something to eat.”

“Right away.” She bowed again—but her eyes lingered.

On me.

She stared for a moment, almost forgetting herself.

"...And who is this little star?" she asked softly.

Her voice was different now. Quiet. Almost… gentle?

I felt a pull. Not like magic. Just… something inside me stirred.

Maybe it was the two different eye colors.

“Her name is Ar’cen,” Nysera answered carefully.

“Well. At least you know how to pick a good name,” the maid replied.

Nysera’s expression sharpened. A warning behind her smile.

“How did you know she’s my daughter?”

The maid flinched. It was subtle—but it was there. Enough that Nysera caught it.

“Well… she just…” Elave’s voice faltered. She sighed. “She just looks really like you.”

Nysera’s eyes narrowed.

“Of course she looks exactly like me,” she said, a little too quickly.

Elave said nothing more. Vahr, wisely, stayed silent too.

But something unspoken had passed between them.

And I felt it. That weight. That tension.

Even if I didn’t understand it yet.