Take Me Away, Dark Lord!

The Archduchy of Valen had officially been conquered, not by ice or steel, but by the sheer, undeniable superiority of the Sovereign of the North.

The heavy, iron doors of the private guest chambers in the Verdant Reach clicked shut, leaving behind a sudden, sweeping silence that felt almost unnatural in the notoriously boisterous fortress.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Seraphina von Nacht was alone.

Duke Kaelus, despite his overwhelming desire to remain permanently attached to his daughter’s side like a shadow, had been summoned to the central war room.

Archduke Leonidas Valen had insisted loudly and repeatedly that they review the troop deployments along the Southern border, a matter of Imperial security that even Kaelus couldn’t delegate to his knights.

Before leaving, Kaelus had subjected the guest chamber to a security sweep that bordered on the absurd. He had frozen the window latches to ensure they couldn’t be opened from the outside, meticulously inspected the plush, velvet-lined carpets for hidden trapdoors.

He had even cast a menacing glare at the fireplace, daring any rogue embers to produce excess smoke, before finally pressing a kiss to Seraphina’s forehead and sweeping out of the room, leaving her under the strict, heavily armed guard of the Vanguard stationed in the hallway.

The moment the heavy oak doors sealed, the atmospheric pressure in the room shifted.

The oppressive, yet incredibly comforting, heavy blanket of Kaelus’s dark mana, the aura that constantly acted as a metaphysical repellent for the supernatural, was gone.

Seraphina sat in the center of a circular rug woven from the pelt of a volcanic ash-bear, surrounded by an absolute mountain of toys and books, and by the sleeping, softly snoring form of Ignis, the apex-fire-spirit-turned-pink-Pomeranian.

For about ten minutes, it was peaceful. Seraphina happily stacked a set of enchanted wooden blocks, intending to build a scale replica of the Northern Bastion.

And then, the temperature in the room plummeted, not with the crisp, clean bite of Kaelus’s ice magic, but with the distinct, tingling chill of the ethereal plane.

Seraphina let out a long, heavy, exasperated sigh. She didn’t look up from her wooden blocks.

Her Supreme Dark Core, which had recently feasted upon the ancient mana of an Archdemon, was currently radiating power like a metaphysical lighthouse.

Without Kaelus’s suppressive aura masking her presence, her core was actively broadcasting a signal across the spiritual frequencies of the Obsidian Gate.

It was a beacon for ghosts.

”I know you’re there,” Seraphina grumbled, her six-year-old voice laced with irritation. She aggressively snapped a wooden turret onto her block castle. ”You’re making the air smell like burnt ozone and old library books. Go away. I’m playing.”

A soft, echoing, distinct chuckle vibrated from the space near the grand fireplace.

”Ah, the little lady has a sharp tongue,” a voice murmured, carrying the smooth, cultured cadence of high nobility from a bygone era. ”Just like her father, though infinitely more adorable.”

Seraphina finally looked up, fixing her face into a fierce, adorable scowl.

Floating casually in the air, a few inches above the polished obsidian floorboards, were five ghosts.

But these were not the weeping, bloody, terrifying specters she had encountered in Count Rodhe’s estate, nor were they the panicked, fleeing souls of the night market.

These were the ancestral spirits of the House of Valen.

They were, frankly, incredibly annoying.

The five spirits manifested as tall, imposing men dressed in the extravagant, flowing aristocratic robes of centuries past. They were translucent, glowing with a faint, flickering amber light that mimicked the embers of a dying fire.

But what truly irritated Seraphina was the fact that, even in death, they were absolutely, ridiculously handsome!

They possessed the rugged, sharp-jawed, fiercely intense aesthetics of the Valen bloodline. They looked like a boyband composed of silver-fox grandpas!

The ghost hovering closest to her, an imposing figure with a neatly trimmed, spectral goatee and a monocle, floated forward, clasping his hands behind his back.

”We mean no intrusion, little one,” the ghost said, offering a flawless, sweeping bow. ”I am Lord Ignis the Elder, Third Archduke of Valen. We merely sensed a presence of... extraordinary magnitude. A dark core so pure, it practically pulled us from our eternal slumber in the family crypts.”

”And you’re incredibly bored,” Seraphina accurately diagnosed, crossing her small arms over her chest, utterly unintimidated.

”Well, eternity does lack a certain... excitement,” another ghost chimed in, this one sporting long, flowing hair and a rakish smirk. ”And the current Archduke, that brat Leonidas, is dreadfully loud. He yells at his ledgers. It gives us a spiritual migraine.”

”So you came to bother me?” Seraphina scowled, puffing out her cheeks. ”Papa Duke said I shouldn’t talk to strangers. Especially dead ones. You guys always have weird quests or want me to find your missing bones.”

The ghosts exchanged amused glances.

”We require no bones, little Sovereign,” Lord Ignis the Elder chuckled warmly. ”We merely seek the delightful company of a child who does not run screaming at the sight of us. Come now, do not scowl so fiercely. You will give yourself premature wrinkles, and that would be a tragedy for such a precious face.”

Seraphina narrowed her eyes, determined to remain grumpy.

She picked up a wooden block and pointed it at them like a weapon. ”I am immune to flattery. I am a creature of the dark!”

”A creature of the dark who requires entertainment!” the long-haired ghost declared theatrically.

Suddenly, the ghost raised his hands. He didn’t cast a destructive spell, but he manipulated the ambient residual mana in the room.

From his translucent fingertips erupted a flurry of tiny, glowing, spectral butterflies made entirely of harmless, amber light.

They fluttered through the air, diving and weaving in a mesmerizing, synchronized dance, leaving trails of sparkling dust that faded before touching the ground.

Ignis, the pink ember-puppy sleeping on Seraphina’s lap, cracked one eye open, let out a tiny, high-pitched yip, and lazily snapped its jaws at a passing butterfly before going back to sleep.