Ashvale's open market was a mess of noise, color, and the faint, ever-present scent of roasted onions.
"Can I get the blue one?" Rhea asked, pointing at a very questionable fruit that looked like a lumpy pear dipped in cobalt paint.
Elias frowned. "That's not a fruit. That's a decorative gourd."
"Still looks tasty."
"You said that about a glowing beetle last night."
"It was tasty."
Elias didn't want to think about that.
They'd ventured out with the hope of blending in—something becoming increasingly difficult. Since the incident with Marek, Rhea had been the talk of the town, even if people didn't know the full story. Rumors swirled: a rogue spell, a summoned spirit child, a cursed cabbage.
The last one had stuck a little too well.
He tugged Rhea's hood lower. "Okay, we grab some bread, maybe a little cheese, then we go home. No flaring eyes. No levitating fruit. No dramatic speeches."
"I never make dramatic speeches."
"You literally told a grown man, 'No one hurts my Elias,' while summoning a ring of flame."
Rhea blinked innocently. "It was poetic."
"It was terrifying."
"It was effective."
He sighed.
They passed stalls full of garlic bulbs, sizzling skewers, and woven trinkets. Rhea's attention bounced from object to object like a possessed hummingbird. She tried petting a ferret wearing a monocle. She almost bought a love potion because it was pink. She poked a floating fish and yelled, "SORRY!" when it bit her finger.
All was going well—relatively—until they reached the fruit stand.
It was run by a burly man named Garlan who had the physique of a retired ogre and the temperament of an undercooked potato.
Elias, trying to avoid attention, picked up a small basket of sweetberries.
Garlan scowled. "You again."
Elias blinked. "Uh, yes?"
"You're the one with the hellspawn."
Rhea froze beside him.
Elias placed the basket down gently. "She's a kid."
"She melted half the plaza."
"She startled one person and cracked a few cobblestones—"
"She floated."
"Which is not a crime—"
"Demon freaks like her always snap. Don't matter how small. They turn, and it's always blood and fire."
Rhea flinched.
Elias stepped in front of her. "We'll take our business elsewhere."
Garlan reached over the stand, grabbing Elias by the collar. "You think you can walk around like nothing's wrong? You're putting all of us at risk!"
"Let go."
"Or what? You gonna sic your little devil on me?"
Behind them, a faint, fuzzy noise built up. Like a whisper crawling inside a wall. Then the air shimmered—just slightly. A strange pressure brushed across reality. People nearby winced, shivering despite the sun.
Elias felt it first in his ears—like cotton being stuffed inside.
Then Garlan let go.
Not because he wanted to.
Because the world… twisted.
His body jerked sideways—without moving. His left arm flickered in and out of view like a broken illusion. For one terrible second, his mouth was upside down.
He screamed.
People gasped.
The stand burst apart, fruit flying everywhere. Apples hovered midair, caught in a gravity-less field that pulsed like a heartbeat.
In the center of it all stood Rhea.
Her eyes weren't glowing.
But her presence was wrong.
Not hot. Not cold. Not even violent.
Just… tilted. Like the world was trying to turn itself inside out around her.
She didn't speak.
Didn't have to.
The pressure in the air cracked—a dozen voices whispering at once, not from her mouth, but from somewhere deeper.
"No one yells at Elias."
Elias pushed through the warped gravity, clutching the rune on his palm. "Rhea, it's okay. I'm fine."
Her small fists were clenched at her sides. Her hair floated like she was underwater.
The fruit in midair started to blacken. Decay spread instantly—like time itself sped up around it.
"No one touches him. No one hurts him."
The whispers crescendoed into a note that hurt to hear. People backed away. One woman fainted into a crate of peaches.
Elias reached her, cupping her cheek.
"Hey," he said softly. "I'm not hurt. Look at me. Please."
The world held its breath.
Rhea blinked.
Then the fruit dropped. Gravity resumed. The pressure vanished like a popped bubble. A few apples bounced off Elias' head.
Rhea swayed.
He caught her before she fell.
Garlan was curled up behind his stand, pale and shivering.
"Wh-what was that…?" he croaked.
Elias looked down at Rhea—now unconscious in his arms.
Something had changed.
This wasn't just hellfire or demon blood.
This was something else.
Something that bent the laws of existence when she got upset.
He carried her home in silence.
Back at the cottage, Rhea slept fitfully, clutching her pillow like it was a lifeline. Elias had put a calming rune under her mattress—not that it helped much.
He sat beside her bed, running a hand through his tangled hair.
His thoughts swirled.
A six-year-old shouldn't have that kind of power.
Let alone instinctively use it.
He'd seen high mages spend years mastering minor reality magic. Most couldn't even stabilize it. And here was Rhea, twisting space around a fruit stand because someone yelled at him.
He looked at the faint shimmer on his palm—the contract mark.
It had grown again.
New lines curled from its center, forming a second ring.
Like the bond wasn't just reactive.
It was evolving.
"Guess we're in deeper than we thought," he muttered.
A tiny voice whispered from the bed.
"I didn't mean to…"
Elias blinked. "Rhea?"
She sat up slowly, eyes wide and watery. "I didn't mean to make the fruit go weird. Or the man. I just… he grabbed you. And I got scared. And it all happened."
He gave a tired smile. "You're fine."
"I'm not fine," she said fiercely. "I'm broken."
"No, you're powerful. And scared. And very dramatic."
She pouted. "You're not scared?"
"I'm terrified. But you're still you."
She sniffled. "Even if I warp reality?"
He grinned. "Even if you warp my laundry into rainbow cats. Which—please don't."
She giggled.
He pulled her into a hug.
"You don't have to fix it all right away," he whispered. "We'll figure it out. Together."
She hugged him tighter. "Promise?"
"Promise."
Later that night, Elias sat at his desk, scribbling notes.
Observed:
Emotional spikes cause magical anomalies.
Not purely infernal magic.
Unidentified element: temporal? spatial? reality distortion?
He flipped to a second page, labeled:
DO NOT LET HER NEAR:
Alchemist shop.
Garlan's fruit stand.
Any more decorative gourds.
Rhea peeked in from the hallway.
"Elias?"
He turned. "Yeah?"
She shuffled closer, blanket over her head like a cloak. "Can I sleep here tonight?"
He moved aside. "Come on up."
She climbed into the bed beside his desk, yawning.
"I promise I won't warp anything in my sleep," she murmured.
"I appreciate that."
A pause.
"Elias?"
"Yeah?"
"Am I... dangerous?"
He looked at her.
Then reached over and flicked her forehead gently.
"Ow!"
"You're a tiny menace. But you're also kind. And smart. And trying really hard."
She smiled drowsily. "You forgot 'beautiful and terrifying demon princess.'"
"I was getting to that."
She curled up, cheek against the pillow.
"I won't let anyone yell at you again," she mumbled.
Elias leaned back in his chair.
"...And I won't let the world break you," he whispered.
Then, together, in a cottage that smelled faintly of singed apple and alchemical lavender, they slept.
And outside, under the moonlight, the runes in the forest shimmered faintly—as if watching. Waiting.
For what came next.
To be continued…