Waking up early, Keshiema ran to the kitchen. She asked the cooks for a light meal and listened to their stories as they worked. They gave her a smoothie and reminded her she was always welcome. As she rushed out, she found Avery guarding the entrance to the throne room. "Hey Avery!" They both waved as she passed by.

  The sun barely peeked over the mountains as she reached the hawthorn tree. Beelzebub gave her a warm smile. Her eyes darkened when she saw his training setup. "Archery?"

  Beelzebub handed her a recurve bow. "I've been told it's a weak spot of yours."

  Flashbacks of her Leraje's expo clouded her vision. Sitting in front of a target at the end of the range. Leraje giving a speech as he fired his bow in rapid succession. Arrows pelting the target millimeters from her skin. All because Cresil was teasing her about her skills and she dared laugh at the joke. She avoided the archery range as much as possible after that. "Yeah. I've had some trouble with it."

  "Can you at least hit the target?" He frowned.

  "I can. My aim just isn't all that great. I don't think I've ever had a bullseye."

  Beelzebub frowned, less than impressed. "Well then, that is what we'll work on."

  Drawing her bow, she took a deep breath and aimed for target. When she loosed her arrow, the string whipped her arm, stinging even through her kevara armor. The arrow hit the target with a THWACK, barely making it into the outside circle.

  ***

  Keshiema's shoulders ached, and her forearm stung. She hated archery. The string constantly whipping her arm always caused her automatic healing power to kick in. As soon as Beelzebub realised this, he decided to make her shoot until her arm started to bleed. He pushed her abilities and stamina to their limit. She shivered, a sure sign that her mark had vanished once again. It always returned once she had a chance to rest, and her powers were not absent with it, just weaker. Still, she feared for the day it might disappear permanently. After all, none of her professors knew any other Friskila who lost their marks when fatigued.

  Remembering the book Dásos had given her, Keshiema went to her dorm. She excitedly unlocked the desk drawer and pulled out the ancient text. Upon opening it and looking through the pages, her head ached and her vision blurred. She had experienced this sensation before. Her body was reacting to a difficult-to-decipher text. She closed the book, waited a few minutes, and tried again. Usually, this worked after three or four attempts. Each episode got less severe until finally, characters started to stand out, and she could start learning the language.

  She lost count of how many times she opened that book and almost passed out from trying to read it. Eventually, she gave up, massaging the bridge of her nose. Her head ached. Using a bit less magic than she would have liked, she used her aura to soothe the migraine. The bitter chill in her bones worsened as she strained to use her magic.

  She marched to the library, book in hand. Once in the history section, she whispered, "Phorest? Are you here?"

  "You called?" He spoke softly into her ear from behind her, causing her to jump and yelp. She turned around, ready to strike him for the startle. "Hm, already finished reading?" He noted the book clutched tightly to her chest. "How did you like it?"

  "What language is this?" She slammed the book onto a table, her hair turning a fiery red. Anger flashed in his eyes as the book hit the table, and although it was subtle and brief, a jolt of fear shot through her. 'Ah, maybe don't treat the book like that...' She told herself.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "Oh. That's the First One," he smiled, hiding any evidence of his fleeting rage. "Hardly anyone can read it. Though I thought your linguistic skills would help you translate it. Every language evolved from it, after all."

  "Not even close. It's worse than Angelic!" She took a deep breath and grounded herself. She was getting too worked up over this.

  "If that's the case, then I think I may be the only one who can read it... In this realm at least." He chuckled softly.

  "I'm going." She started for the exit but stopped when he cleared his throat.

  "There is a way to know what it says though."

  "How?" she asked cautiously as she turned around.

  "A simple power transfer would do the trick." Shifting her weight, arms crossed, she impatiently waited for him to explain. "You see, I can know everything within a book simply by touching it. I could share a one-time use of my ability with you."

  "And what's the price of that?" He did not seem like the type to give anything away for free.

  "I just need a little of your blood. Not much, just two small vials." He held out his hand again, and two medical vials appeared.

  Her skin crawled with suspicion. "What would you want with it?"

  "A lot of demons like blood. I'm sure you know that. Halfling blood is supposed to be very unique." His explanation made sense; Most demons consumed blood to some extent, and bloodwine became harder to obtain after the local winery caught fire.

  'And of those sharp teeth are any indication,' she thought. "There are plenty of Halflings in Denim these days. Why can't you take it from them?"

  "Freely given blood is always better than stolen blood. It's much more potent."

  "I see. And all you want is two small vials, and I get the power to know what's in the book?" She was slightly suspicious of the situation.

  "I swear that's all you need to do to get that book's secrets. And oh, are there secrets."

  Keshiema looked at the book and back at Dásos. 'I can't even begin to decipher that. If I'm going to find out about the Elders and what kind of powers they hold, I need that book. but is it really worth it? It's just blood, what could he do with it, really?' She felt a bit wary, but her curiosity won her over. "It's a deal."

  He handed her the vials and watched her carefully as she pulled a glove off and took out a small knife. "Hm, we need to sanitize that first. I'd prefer the blood be uncontaminated."

  She concentrated her aura around her hand and passed the blade through it several times. Sanitizing was a simple task for a Friskalia with her level of training. "Anything else?" she asked, slightly annoyed.

  "You're a Friskalia?" He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  "Hm? Yeah, my mark disappears when I use a lot of healing magic at one time." She sliced her hand and let the blood fill the vials.

  The soft scent of lilacs drifted to him. His mouth watered as he watched her replace the stoppers. "Thank you." He said softly, watching her concentrate her aura again. The cut on her palm faded away. "You healed yourself? And without a spell." He closed his hand around the vials, making them vanish. "You've got a lot of neat little tricks, don't you?"

  "Speaking of tricks," she brushed off his curiosity, "how are we doing this power transfer?"

  "Give me your hand." He swiftly pulled her to him, gently wrapped his arm around her, and gave her a small, soft kiss. His electrifying aura flowed through her like a static charge, and for a brief moment, she could smell moss covered oak trees on a misty morning. He stepped away from her and examined her stark white hair and eyes. Her cheeks were brightly flushed. He smiled gently. "Ah, white for...surprise?"

  The white quickly turned coral. "Th-that was...the power transfer." She knew that kissing lacked the same connotation in the demon world that it held for humans. The lips were a powerful conduit for aura transfer and made exchanging magic much simpler. She still had not expected it. There were other spells to gift power to another, and the incantations were not particularly hard to find.

  "Did it not work? I could try again. Maybe it wasn't enough." He said through a smile.

  "N-no. It worked. I'm pretty sure it worked. I was just expecting a less ar-archaic form of the spell." Her face was so hot she was sure she might pass out.

  "Ah, well, that's good then. I don't think you could turn any more red."

  "I need to...I should...It's getting late." She stuttered; forming a coherent thought was impossible.

  "Don't be a stranger now, Little Sparrow. Let me know how you like the book. That is, if you truly think you want to know the truth." He was no longer smiling.

  "Right, um, I'll see you around." She turned and ran out the door, her heart racing faster than she would have thought possible.