Take Me Away, Dark Lord!

They were drafts of reports, crumpled or slid aside, deemed unworthy of his attention.

Seraphina’s eyes lit up.

Toys.

She slid off the bench, landing on the floor with a soft thud. The Duke didn’t twitch. He turned a page of his report.

Seraphina crawled over to the discarded papers. She picked one up. It was heavy, high-quality parchment, smelling of expensive ink. It contained complex logistical data about grain shipments to the Northern Fortress.

’Sorry, Northern Fortress,’ she thought. ’Your grain is about to become an aircraft.’

Her small fingers went to work.

She wasn’t just a random scribbler; she had been an artist. Origami was something she used to do to calm her nerves before a deadline. Her muscle memory, even in these tiny, clumsy hands, remained.

Fold. Crease. Tuck. Fold.

The sound of crinkling paper was loud in the silence.

Crinkle. Rip. Smoosh.

The Duke paused. His eyes didn’t leave the document he was reading, but his breathing pattern shifted slightly. He was aware of the noise. He was tolerating it.

Seraphina finished her first creation: a classic paper airplane.

She held it up, inspecting the aerodynamics. It was a bit lopsided, but it would fly.

”Vrooom,” she whispered, making a soft engine noise.

She launched it.

The paper plane glided through the air, looped lazily around the magic lamp, and nose-dived straight onto the Duke’s knee.

It landed right on top of the report he was reading.

Seraphina held her breath. ’Uh oh. Did I poke the bear?’

Kaelus stopped reading. He looked at the paper plane resting on his document. He picked it up between two gloved fingers, examining it as if it were a strange, alien insect.

He looked at Seraphina. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes.

”It flies,” she explained helpfully.

Kaelus stared at her for a long second. Then, without a word, he placed the plane on the empty seat next to him. He went back to reading.

’Victory!’ Seraphina cheered internally. ’He didn’t incinerate me!’

Emboldened, she grabbed another sheet of paper. This one detailed a list of potential marriage candidates for the Duke, sent by the Imperial Matchmaker.

’Oh, this one definitely needs to be a boat,’ she decided. ’Because this relationship is going to sink.’

She started folding again.

”Hey,” she said.

No answer.

”Hey, Mister Duke.”

Kaelus turned a page. ”I have a title. Use it.”

”Hey, Papa Duke.”

Kaelus’s eye twitched. ”No.”

”Hey, Big Boss.”

He sighed, a sound like wind rushing through a graveyard. ”What is it?”

”Why are we awake?” she asked, smoothing down the hull of her paper boat.

”We are traveling,” he replied curtly.

”But it’s dark,” Seraphina pointed out. ”Normal people sleep when it’s dark. Only owls and bad guys stay awake.”

”And which one are you?” he asked, not looking up.

”I’m a...” She paused. ”I’m a mushroom.”

Kaelus actually stopped reading. He looked over the top of the paper. ”A mushroom?”

”Yeah,” Seraphina said, placing the paper boat on her head like a hat. ”Mushrooms grow in the dark. And they are small. And sometimes they poison people if you eat them.”

She referenced the berry incident from earlier.

A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of Kaelus’s mouth. It vanished as quickly as it appeared.

”Go to sleep, Mushroom,” he said.

”Can’t,” she said, grabbing another paper. ”Too awake. The soup was too powerful. It gave me zoomies.”

She started making a crane. This was harder. The paper was stiff.

”Hey,” she started again.

”What now?”

”Are there monsters outside?”

Kaelus glanced at the window. He didn’t see the ghosts she saw. He saw the strategic threat of the forest. ”There are always monsters outside.”

”Are you scared?”

”No.”

”Why?”

”Because,” Kaelus said, his voice dropping to that terrifyingly calm register, ”I am the thing they are scared of.”

Seraphina looked at the window. She saw a hideous, gaping wraith press its face against the invisible barrier, screaming silently, terrified to enter the Duke’s range.

”Yeah,” she nodded in agreement. ”They really are.”

She finished the crane. She placed it on the floor and blew on it, trying to make it move.

”Hey.”

”Seraphina,” the Duke warned. ”My patience has limits.”

”Why do you wear black?” she asked, ignoring his threat. ”Is it because you spill juice a lot? Black hides the stains.”

”It is for intimidation,” he said. ”And practicality.”

”I like yellow,” she declared. ”Yellow is like the sun. Or cheese.”

”I will note that for your wardrobe,” he muttered, sounding exhausted.

”And pink. But not the barf pink. The flower is pink.”

”Duly noted.”

”And I want a sword.”

Kaelus looked at her. ”You are six.”

”So? I can have a small sword. A dagger. For cutting fruit. And stabbing ankles.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. He was realizing that he had adopted a creature of chaos. A small, chattering anomaly that refused to be intimidated by his silence.

But strangely... he didn’t hate it.

The carriage ride was usually a time of brooding for him. He would sit in the silence, calculating deaths, plotting wars, stewing in the darkness of his own responsibilities.

But now, the silence was broken by the crinkle-crinkle of paper and the nonsensical questions of a child who wanted an ankle-stabbing dagger. It was annoying. It was distracting.

And it was... warm.

It kept the darkness at bay.

Suddenly, the carriage lurched.

The horses whinnied in panic. The smooth rhythm of the wheels faltered as the vehicle hit rough terrain.

Seraphina slid across the floor, bumping into the Duke’s boots.

The atmosphere in the carriage shifted instantly. The boredom vanished. Kaelus didn’t move, but his presence expanded, filling the space with a suffocating pressure.

He looked at the window.

”We are here,” he whispered.

”Where?” Seraphina asked, looking up from his boots.

”The Devil’s Throat.”

Outside, the air had changed.

Seraphina scrambled to her knees and peeked out the window again.