The last thing Liora wanted was to start her day chanting sacred hymns in front of an altar filled with candles that smelled like purity and regret. But there she was, kneeling on a prayer mat, trying to repeat the words of the "Golden Dawn Song" without gagging rainbows.
"Inhale the light… exhale the darkness… inhale the light…" Lúcia repeated, her voice as sweet and sinless as ever.
Liora exhaled, all right. A sigh of pure bitterness.
Outside, the newly appointed "spiritual mentor" was strolling calmly through the garden, whistling a demonic tune disguised as a celestial hymn. Morian seemed to be enjoying his new position as "divine guide to promising youth" a little too much.
Somehow, the lie was holding up.
Valério had even started to warm up to him. "Mr. Morian has wise eyes," he said that morning. "Clearly, the light has touched him deeply."
Liora nearly commented that yes, the light touched him—usually in the form of a flaming spear hurled by angry angels.
After morning prayer, Lúcia clapped her hands with excitement.
"Today we begin your sacred chant training with accompaniment. Your mentor said he could help!"
Liora's eyes widened. "He what?"
And that's how she ended up sitting next to Morian, holding a little white hymn book while he adjusted his posture like a smug choir instructor.
"Let's start with Blessing of the Eternal Roses, yes?" Lúcia suggested brightly.
"Ah, my favorite," Morian said, smiling so hard Liora thought he might evaporate from sheer falseness.
The music began.
Liora could barely focus. The lyrics spoke of purity, flowers, and something about "serving with a virgin soul."
Virgin, huh? She had led infernal legions, destroyed three cities with a glance, and decapitated an archangel in a glorious battle. The only thing virgin about her was her patience with this new life.
Morian began to sing along, with a deep and shockingly beautiful voice. Liora was horrified. He was good. Dangerously good. He sounded like an actual holy mentor.
"You're too good at this," she muttered.
"Dear, I led a banshee choir for three centuries. This is child's play."
Worse yet: he had rhythm.
Lúcia looked enchanted. "You should lead the chants at the next Festival of Light!"
"It would be an honor," Morian said, probably planning to burn the festival to the ground later for fun.
Later, while Liora stood under a cold (and symbolic) rain shower, trying to wash her soul, Morian appeared with an indecently satisfied expression.
"You should thank me."
"For what? For turning my life into an opera of lies?"
"For keeping your identity safe. And for singing better than you."
She tossed a bucket of water at him.
"Hey!" he complained.
"You like this, don't you? Infiltrating my life, sipping tea with my mom, teaching my family how to sing about purity."
"Of course I do," he said. "This is way more fun than ruling the underworld. Down there, no one appreciates irony."
She crossed her arms, soaking wet.
"You mentioned other demons were reincarnated. Who else? Where are they?"
Morian grew serious.
"Some... adjusted. Others are rebelling. And there are rumors that one of them is gathering forces again. And the worst part?"
"Surprise me."
"He also reincarnated into a holy family."
Liora froze. "Another child of light with a history of destruction?"
"More or less. He was born… as the brother of a high priest."
She almost tripped. "You're kidding."
"I wish. But it seems chaos loves irony even more than I do."
Before she could respond, Valério appeared in his classic paladin stance, always ready for a sermon.
"Liora! Your mentor suggested you join the sacred vigil tonight. He says it's important for your growth."
She looked at Morian. He smiled. Bastard.
"Of course, Father," she said flatly.
Valério nodded with pride. "The light smiles upon you, daughter."
"Let's hope it melts," she muttered.
---
The sacred vigil promises to be a long night of prayers, confessions, and... possibly a minor infernal ritual disguised as a blessing. Liora just wanted sleep, but with the Demon King as her mentor and a fellow demon reborn as a high priest's brother, retirement might be harder than winning a war.