Five Years Later
I'm eighteen now. Old enough to levitate platforms without fainting, dodge divine lectures like a pro, and—my greatest trial to date—choose a dress for my debutante ball at the Solmaria Palace.
Yes. A dress. Not demons, not dark rituals. Fabric.
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1. Dress Selection — Mission: Fabric Chaos
The dressing room looked like a post-apocalyptic battlefield. Shiny fabric rolls strewn across the floor, pins lying in wait like landmines, and me—Liora—standing in the middle, arms raised in surrender.
Three maids buzzed around me like caffeinated bees.
My mother, Saint Lúcia herself, hovered nearby, offering divine commentary like she was judging an art competition.
And Luziel—ever the angel of sarcasm—leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, judging everything.
Dress One: "Pigeon Fluff"
Layers upon layers of silvery-gray feathers wrapped around me like a nervous bird.
Me (thinking): "If I sneeze, I might trigger a national migration."
Luziel: "You look like you lost a fight with a goose."
Lúcia: "It's... avant-garde?"
I tried to turn and nearly took out a decorative vase.
Dress Two: "Modern Flame"
Orange tones. Way too much glitter. A fan hidden somewhere in the back that flared the cape like I was about to go airborne.
Morian (appearing through the mirror, casually as ever): "Perfect for spontaneous combustion."
Me: "Or setting the dance floor on literal fire."
Dress Three: "Cathedral Stained Glass"
Elegant. Ethereal. Basically see-through. Embroidered panels shaped like church windows clung to my body.
Lúcia clutched her chest. "So divine!"
Me (deadpan): "I feel like a naked angel in a church mural. I can hear nuns judging me from the afterlife."
After almost taking flight, nearly burning down the seamstress, and emotionally scarring the clergy, I sighed.
Dress Four: "Celestial Balance"
Soft silver silk. Subtle gold embroidery on the sleeves. No gimmicks. No flammable parts.
Lúcia: "Absolutely radiant!"
Morian (telepathically): "First time you look… human."
Me: "First time I don't feel like a demon cosplaying light."
Mission: Dress Selection — Completed.
---
The ballroom glittered like a sanctified relic. Chandeliers shimmered above. Holy blessings practically oozed from the walls. Nobles, mages, and even a few curious celestial beings watched with anticipation.
But my first dance wasn't with a prince or a political pawn.
It was with my dad.
Duke Valerio Hallow stood in full ceremonial armor, polished so bright it could blind a deity. Tears welled in his eyes before the music even started.
Valerio: "My little girl has become a radiant woman."
Me: "Dad, if you cry, I swear I'll vanish out of sheer embarrassment."
He laughed… then stepped on my foot.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
My expression twisted in perfect rhythm.
Valerio: "That was part of the choreography!"
Me (thinking): "Being my dad must be harder than ruling a kingdom."
Despite the stumbles, I smiled. He twirled me like a knight in training, and when the music ended, kissed my hand like I was the crown jewel of Solmaria.
Applause followed. Including from Morian, who hadn't blinked once during the dance.
Then, the ebony doors creaked open — just dramatic enough to turn every head.
Enter: Morian. Archmage of Light. My personal mentor.
Or, as I like to call him: my hellish ex-boss pretending to be a holy man.
He walked in with immaculate posture, light-colored robes shimmering with golden embroidery — so angelic it was insulting.
He bowed, deeply and formally.
Morian: "May I have this dance?"
Me: "Only if you promise not to invade any kingdoms after."
Morian: "Word of honor."
Me (muttering): "You've never had honor in your life."
Grudgingly impressed and moderately flustered, I placed my gloved hand in his. The orchestra began a soft, melancholic minuet.
As we danced, memories hit like catapult fire:
— Midnight war reports.
— "Rewrite this in blood" post-it notes.
— The flaming stapler incident.
Me (thinking): "He used to make me draft war plans at 3 a.m.… Now he wants to waltz? Holy hypocrisy."
He dipped me smoothly. Leaned in. Whispered:
Morian: "I never knew light… until I became your master."
My face burned. Against my will.
Me (thinking): "Fantastic. He's weaponized charm now."
---
The final note echoed into the vaulted ceiling. Applause exploded again. Morian released my hand with a subtle bow.
Morian: "Thank you for the dance, my brightest star."
Me: "The pleasure was almost all mine."
Morian: "Almost?"
Me: "Let me have this one."
Before I could escape, Luziel appeared by my side. Arms crossed. Visibly offended.
Luziel: "You danced with him before me?"
Me: "Be faster next time."
Luziel: "I was getting cake."
Me: "Exactly. Priorities."
I ran my fingers through my white hair, watching it shimmer under the chandeliers. My reflection on the polished floor stared back — a strange blend of who I was… and who I'm becoming.
Me (thinking): "If this ball is just the beginning… I'm ready for whatever comes."
Even if it involves tyrant bosses, fireproof gowns, and a bit more emotion than I was prepared to feel.