The sun was already rising. Dawn at the harbor, right by the sea, painted the sky in soft shades of orange and pink, their reflections stretching lazily across the calm water.

  It would have been a beautiful sight... if not for the corpse of a succubus still lying on the ground.

  Caelan turned toward Lyciah. She stood perfectly still, her gaze lost on the horizon, as though she hadn’t fully processed everything that had happened. The sea breeze stirred her hair gently, but she didn’t react.

  “If you look to the left,” Caelan said, “the body will be out of your line of sight.”

  Lyciah turned her head on pure reflex, obeying before she even thought about it.

  “Oh… right.”

  “That way you can appreciate the sunrise better.”

  “…Thank you.”

  Caelan nodded once, satisfied, as if he had just solved a very important problem.

  Seliane moved closer to Momoru and made a quick gesture for him to lean in. Once they were close enough, she whispered:

  “Why are those two so calm?”

  “Lyciah is probably in shock,” he replied in the same low tone. “Look at her. She’s smiling… but she’s not actually looking at anything. Her soul has clearly stepped out for a little walk.”

  Then his gaze slid toward Caelan.

  “As for him… I think he’s just strange. Though, considering he’s lived for five thousand years…”

  “I’d be more surprised if he were sane,” Seliane finished.

  Momoru nodded solemnly, as if they had just reached an irrefutable scientific conclusion.

  Then Caelan looked at them.

  “There’s no need to whisper. I can hear you perfectly well.”

  Seliane and Momoru stiffened instantly.

  “We didn’t mean to offend you, Lord Ancestral!”

  Seliane made an exaggerated move to kneel, but Caelan raised a hand and stopped her before the performance could go any further.

  “I’m not offended,” he replied, his tone almost zen-like. “I abandoned the concept centuries ago.”

  Silence followed. The kind that stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable. Seliane pressed her lips together, shoulders trembling slightly, as she fought the urge to laugh.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Caelan asked, confused.

  Before Seliane could let out a loud laugh, a youthful voice rang out behind them.

  “There you are, Caelan!”

  A young man with dark skin was coming down the harbor steps at a brisk pace. His black hair was cut through with white locks that gave him a sharp, distinctive look.

  “You didn’t come back last night. What were you—?”

  He stopped dead when he noticed the small group gathered behind Caelan. His face flushed red in an instant.

  “W-who are all these people? D-don’t stare at me like that! I hate being the center of attention!”

  He jumped back as if burned, covering his face dramatically with both arms—though he peeked through his fingers to see if they were still looking.

  “And where did this one come from?” Seliane asked, not bothering to lower her voice.

  “W-why is there a pretty girl asking about me?!”

  Seliane froze for a second. Then, visibly pleased by the compliment, she relaxed and smiled stupidly.

  “Well… weird as he is, he speaks the truth.”

  Caelan looked at the boy with the kind of tired expression one only acquired after centuries of coexistence. Then he turned to Lyciah and the others.

  “This is Elric. My companion.”

  “C-companion?!” Elric protested, clutching his chest. “We’ve been together for centuries and that’s all I get?!”

  He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, gathering his courage.

  “Sorry… about earlier,” he began. “You surprised me. I wasn’t expecting Caelan to be talking to anyone. He doesn’t even talk to me…” He sighed. “Anyway. I’m Elric. Friend of this ancient man with absolutely no social skills.”

  “Yours don’t seem particularly developed either,” Seliane replied casually.

  “That’s just the first impression!” Elric shot back. “I’m actually—”

  “Elric,” Caelan interrupted. “I need something.”

  “Anything you want, my dear friend!”

  Elric’s smile slowly faded as Caelan turned and pointed at Noah’s body.

  “Get rid of it.”

  Elric went completely still. He didn’t say a word. After a few seconds, he began humming a melody in a dead language as he approached the corpse to take care of… that.

  “There’s something I’ve been wondering,” Momoru said suddenly, as if none of this was happening behind him. “Why was Noah so convinced you were a vampire?”

  “Ah. That,” Caelan replied. “Many demons mistake us for vampires. We share the same scent.”

  He paused briefly, as if what came next wasn’t especially pleasant to explain.

  “Ancestrals, like vampires, are undead. We died before becoming what we are now.”

  Lyciah’s eyes lit up.

  “Wait!” she blurted out. “You died? Then that means… that means you were human!”

  “Yes,” Caelan nodded. “I suppose that isn’t common knowledge. But I have no reason to hide it.”

  Lyciah stared at him, eyes shining, completely absorbed. She had read countless books about demons, but none had ever mentioned the origin of the Ancestrals. And now one of them was standing right in front of her, speaking about it as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

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  In Elyndra, Heliora had just received the latest report. Sorian stood before her, rigid, hands clasped behind his back.

  “The… Second Ancestral?” he asked, unable to hide his disbelief. “Are you absolutely certain?”

  General Eryon answered with a harsh, humorless laugh.

  “Certain enough to order an immediate retreat,” he replied sarcastically. “You’re welcome to go check for yourself… General Sorian.”

  He emphasized the title with deliberate mockery.

  Sorian didn’t react. He simply turned to Heliora.

  “Your Majesty,” he said. “The situation has changed. This exceeds our current capabilities. We will not be able to bring Ly—” He stopped, clearing his throat. “—the Dawnbringer, by force. I—”

  “You will go,” Heliora cut in.

  Sorian looked up, startled.

  “The situation has changed,” she continued, “and our decisions must change with it.”

  For a brief moment, something like hope crossed Sorian’s face, though his posture remained impeccable.

  “Bring back the Dawnbringer, General Sorian,” the queen ordered. “Convince her. Use whatever means you deem appropriate. I trust your judgment.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Sorian bowed formally and withdrew without another word.

  Eryon followed him with his eyes until he disappeared through the throne room doors.

  ?Always so willing to obey… even when it means dragging his own sister back. How convenient it is to have a dog who thinks the collar is a blessing.?

  Back at the harbor, after the introductions, Elric took a few seconds to process everything.

  “Wait,” he finally said, raising a hand. “Hold on. Just—wait a second.”

  Everyone turned to him. Elric stepped back.

  “No.”

  Then another step.

  “No, no, no, no…”

  He turned toward Caelan, his expression a mix of disbelief and panic.

  “Caelan,” he said quietly. “Tell me this is a joke.”

  “It’s not a joke. She’s the Dawnbringer,” Caelan confirmed.

  Elric froze.

  “Oh.”

  For a moment, no one spoke.

  “Oh…” Elric repeated, weaker this time.

  He grabbed his head with both hands.

  “The Dawnbringer,” he muttered. “The historical enemy of demons. The one who burned entire armies. The one who—”

  “I don’t burn anyone!” Lyciah interrupted suddenly, alarmed.

  Everyone looked at her. Lyciah grew nervous, her cheeks turning red.

  “I-I mean…” she lowered her voice. “I’ve never hurt anyone. I swear.”

  Elric looked at her. She met his gaze—just for a second—then looked away quickly, red as a tomato.

  “I’m sorry,” she added. “I understand why you’re scared. I would be scared too if I met… me.”

  Elric blinked. Looked at her more closely. Small. Shy. Wrapped in a scarf. With the face of someone who desperately wanted to sink into the ground.

  “Well…” he said at last. “You don’t look scary.”

  Lyciah shook her head.

  “N-no. I’m not scary.”

  The silence that followed was awkward—and oddly adorable. They both looked away at the same time.

  “They’re the same,” Seliane whispered to Momoru.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Two socially awkward creatures facing each other.”

  Caelan stepped forward.

  “Do you have a plan?” he asked calmly.

  Lyciah lifted her head.

  “No,” she admitted. “We can’t go back to Elyndra. And we can’t leave Spain.”

  For a few seconds, no one answered. Their gazes crossed in silence. There were no clear choices.

  “Outside Spain, you’d be killed,” Elric said. “And here…” He glanced around. “Here, the lumens won’t take long to come looking for you.”

  Lyciah clenched her fists and looked down. Caelan watched her for a few seconds. There was no pride in her. No defiance. Just fear—and a quiet determination to keep going.

  “As long as you remain in Spain,” he said at last, “no one will touch you. Not even the lumens.”

  Lyciah looked up at him, startled. Elric turned sharply.

  “You’re saying…?”

  “This is my territory,” Caelan continued. “No other Ancestral may interfere here.”

  Elric opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

  “Caelan…” he murmured. “She’s the heir of the Dawnbringer. Every Ancestral wants her dead.”

  “I know. But I will protect her.”

  Lyciah felt an unexpected warmth bloom in her chest. She said nothing—only offered him a small, shy smile.

  Caelan led them through increasingly quiet streets, away from the city’s bustle. They walked while speaking in low voices. Caelan explained a few simple rules: where they could move freely, which areas to avoid, and which places were absolutely off-limits.

  Lyciah couldn’t stop looking around, her eyes bright.

  Then they arrived.

  A house stood set back from the main street, behind a dark iron gate tangled with ivy. It wasn’t ostentatious, but it was old.

  “You’ll be safe here,” Caelan said. “It’s one of my properties.”

  Seliane raised an eyebrow.

  “One of?”

  “I don’t usually live here,” he added calmly. “But it’s protected.”

  “Protected…?” Lyciah murmured, more to herself than anyone else. “Right. Of course…”

  Thoughtfully, she brought a hand to her chin and began speaking without realizing it.

  “The Second Ancestral. The Eternal Knight. The power of absolute custody…” she listed softly. “Barriers that can’t be broken. Not by force, not by magic, not by time. As long as you’re inside… nothing can touch you. Nothing.”

  She stopped abruptly, realizing everyone was staring at her.

  “I-I… I read it. In several ancient texts. I didn’t mean to— I’m sorry.”

  Caelan watched her for a moment longer than usual.

  “That’s correct,” he said at last.

  Lyciah nodded, embarrassed.

  Inside, the house was spacious. High ceilings, dark wood, shelves packed with ancient books, and wide windows overlooking a garden that was overgrown, but alive.

  “It feels… very old,” Lyciah murmured. “But it’s beautiful.”

  That night, they all slept deeply. Probably because they felt safe. After all, they were under the protection of the Second Ancestral himself.

  When dawn filtered through the curtains, Lyciah was the first to wake. She peeked out the window, unable to hold back her smile.

  “I’m going out!” she announced suddenly, already dressed. “I want to see the city. Really see it this time. Walk around… look at shops… get a little lost.”

  Seliane frowned immediately. Momoru glanced at her.

  “Carefully,” Lyciah hurried to add. “Caelan said it would be fine.”

  “It’s true that Caelan said he’d detect any lumen that got close to you, but—” Momoru began.

  “I’ll be fine!” Lyciah interrupted. “The Second Ancestral gave us his word.” She put on her best pleading expression. “Please. I’ve spent ten years locked away. I just want to… to see what the human world is like.”

  Momoru sighed, defeated.

  “Fine. But no strange alleyways. And no following strangers.”

  “And don’t trust suspicious smiles,” Seliane added.

  “I promise,” Lyciah nodded eagerly.

  The day was cold. Lyciah tucked her nose into her scarf as she walked.

  She wandered aimlessly for a while, letting herself be carried along. Everything caught her attention. She took photos like a tourist. Technically, she was one… if one ignored the minor detail that she was also a fugitive.

  A cat approached her. Lyciah knelt to pet it, smiling.

  When she stood and lifted her head, she nearly collided with a young man standing directly in front of her—like he had always been there.

  He was smiling. At first glance, he looked friendly.

  “I-I’m sorry,” Lyciah blurted out, stepping back and immediately averting her gaze.

  He replied in a soft voice.

  “Don’t worry.”

  His accent was strange. Foreign.

  Lyciah looked up then. He was a ginger and was wearing a black Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses… while the rest of the world shivered. He wasn’t very tall; just a few centimeters taller than her. His face was pleasant. Charming.

  But Lyciah felt something strange. Something sharp in her chest.

  He didn’t look surprised by the encounter. If anything… he looked pleased. Then he spoke again, his tone utterly casual. Gentle. Polite.

  “Ekchron,” he said, like someone introducing himself in a supermarket line. “Nice to meet you.”

  Lyciah blinked.

  “Uh…?”

  “My name,” he added with a calm smile. “Ekchron. One of the Seven. Slayer of angels, destroyer of cities, and occasional food critic.”

  Lyciah went completely silent.

  She had just heard the one name that should never be spoken aloud… said with a smile and a polite nice to meet you.