"He wouldn't believe a single word no matter how much I explained to him! Just because I'm a raven? I'm a gold thief? He is so annoying!"
I heard a crack. Rhea was strangling her bowl, and the crack grew bigger. I winced just by imagining what those fingers could do around my neck . . . in worst-case scenarios.
Asphyxiation is not on my kink list.
"N-Not all ravens are alike!" Cordelia saved the bowl from further damage, taking it away from Rhea's deadly grip. "Do not listen to that bad dragon!"
I sighed and turned to my dad. "Dad? Aren't you aware of his reputation?"
"Hm? It was a lie." He put his finished bowl down on the coffee table. "What I did earlier was purely an act to scare him off albeit Predatory Pressure did most of the job."
"Oh. Right. A primordial is a master of manipulation and deceit," I said, taking a spoonful of rice from my bowl.
"Excellent! I see that Cordelia has started lecturing you about our race." He kept nodding like one of those tiny bobbleheads displayed on a car's dashboard. "Keep that in mind, son. It will come in handy once you're faced with an enemy!"
"Yeah . . . by leaving out most of the important details." I shot him a glare. "Don't worry. I'll keep every important detail in mind."
Dad's face contorted in fear. He knew what I meant. "L-Let us resume. I believe Ms. Rhea here can tell us everything about the Ripper Dragon."
"You can count on me, Lord Asmodeus!" Rhea shifted her mood real quick: from blazing mad to contagiously happy. "Anything for Lord Dylan's additional knowledge too!"
"I have a few questions before we discuss." I raised my spoon. "What is Sir Myles? Is he . . . an ice spirit?" Then I resumed eating.
"He's an Ice Elemental," Rhea answered, with confidence. "Elementals are one of the most popular slaves to own. Owning an elemental according to your element increases your element's power, but you need to enter an official contract with them to feel the difference." She raised eight fingers. "There are eight types of elementals."
I swallowed my food. "They're treated as . . . slaves?"
Cordelia nodded. "They go way back to Zemoria's creation. In your history lessons, we'll learn about celestials and the first fairy queens." She raised two fingers. "The first fairy queens created the elementals. They specifically made them to be slaves . . . for a very good reason."
Now that's attention-grabbing. In fairytale books and fantasy stories, fairies are often weak and have small roles to play. Celestials, on the other hand, I noticed she brought them up again. I heard that for the first time when she explained about primordials, but I didn't put much attention to it. Like it was common sense? I figured they were the gods and goddesses maintaining the balance and order, chaos and destruction of this realm. Then again, there could be something more intriguing and complex about them.
"I'm not a history person, but that sounds very interesting. I'll do my best in learning everything from you, Cordelia." I smiled, and she blushed like a meek princess avoiding eye contact with her dear prince. How cute can she get?
"About the Ripper Dragon," I began, putting down my finished bowl on the table. "If an elemental only increases your element's power, why did he go after me despite knowing that I'm a primordial? Is he a war freak?" I glanced at my dad. "How powerful are we exactly?"
"Primordials rank second in the power hierarchy while dragons rank third," Dad explained. "The Ripper Dragon may have viewed you as a worthy opponent. Brave, yet, foolish to challenge a late bloomer . . . although he had no idea that you are one." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Late bloomers have yet to control their powers and abilities, thus, you're extremely dangerous and highly unstable." I thought he was going to frown and tell me I'm a disappointment, but it was the opposite. He smiled, proudly. "Late bloomers usually succumb to their dark powers and turn feral, but you seem to have complete control of yourself. That is an achievement, son!"
Oh . . . crap. Is this where I tell him about that demonic voice in my head?
"What happens to . . . late bloomers who lose control of themselves?" I dared to ask.
"Executed according to the Underworld Law." Dad mimed a judge in court, pounding his palm once with a closed fist. "They disrupt the natural flow of good and evil in the four realms: Terra, Zemoria, Skyworld, and Underworld. Being evil is natural for our race, yes, that is our role, but going beyond evil calls for realm war. You will summon the Celestial of Creation itself."
I think I was about to pass out. The more I think about it, the light in me is an unnatural occurrence for primordials. And that demon, who is a part of me, became a side effect. A virus kind of side effect, slowly infecting me.
Holy, crap.
What if I'm a defective primordial? What if Dad brought me here, in Zemoria, because he had foreseen what has yet to come?
Dylan, relax. Your dad may look like the Father of Liars, but there's no harm in reporting your self-observations to him.
"Are you alright, Lord Dylan? You look a little pale!" Cordelia had her hands worriedly stretched out to me, ready to cast a 'catching' spell. I did look like I was about to fall over and faint. "We should turn in for the night if you feel tired. You've been through a lot on your first day."
"Yeah. We should." I held the side of my head. "It's like having a packed schedule as a soloist idol all over again." I'm just hoping that tomorrow is a normal day . . . and the following days.
"Oh, dear. Had we been talking for that long?" Rhea looked out the window and saw the evening sky. "Oh, well. Time to wrap things up!" She faced my dad, stood up, and smiled with her eyes. "Forgive me for my rudeness, Lord Asmodeus, but you need to leave right now. Our young master is mentally exhausted because of you. Goodbye!"
"Huh? What?" My dad looked confused as hell as he was dragged to the door, by his arm, respectfully. "Did I do something wrong? Allow me to stay a little longer and bond with my son!"
"You have a kingdom to return to, King Asmodeus. Come back next time!" Rhea opened the door and pushed my dad out to the front porch, with all her strength. Or was she even using it?
Never mind that. I should talk to my dad or else there wouldn't be a next time.
"Wait!" I hastily stood up, and the trio looked my way. "I want to talk to him in private—outside. It's important."
* * *
Twenty meters away from the cottage, my dad and I had found a quiet spot by the lake where the moon's glow beamed down on us like a stage spotlight. I could see his startled reaction when I said:
"Dad, I think I'm unstable and dangerous."
"What made you say that?"
"There's . . . a voice . . . a demon trapped in my head." I tapped the right side of my head. "I don't know how it began or what I even did to start hearing it in my head but . . . the demon sounded just like me."
He raised an eyebrow. "Sounded just like you?"
"His voice sounded like my voice."
He stared at me like I had gone crazy. "Are you sure it's not . . . just you? Intrusive thoughts, perhaps?"
"That's . . . possible," I said, cupping my chin in careful thought.
I was considering it, but it didn't explain my risky behavior towards the Ripper Dragon. I'm smarter than that, but strangely, it felt like there was an invisible force that had smoothly thrown my logic out the window. Manipulated and deceived to believe that I had made the right choice.
"Damn it!" I ruffled my hair with frustration. "It's hard to explain my actions. They seem normal, but unusual at the same time. Maybe, just maybe, this demon temporarily took control of my body without me noticing."
Dad frowned. "Tell me what this . . . demon had done to make you suspicious."
I could tell him about the bank teller. Tell him that I had thought of banging a vampire, but that evidence may not be taken seriously. A more recent supernatural occurrence should be more helpful.
"He told me to challenge the Ripper Dragon, then he taught me how to use flame magic but . . ." I grimaced, expecting a series of doll-shaking and panicked yelling. "Ah . . . your grand entrance cancelled out my magic circles."
"Circles?" His voice climbed a note higher. "With an 'S'?"
"Plural." I nodded. "If I remember correctly, they were small—"
"Dylan Belmont." Dad's face darkened. He grabbed my shoulders and stared directly into my eyes. I trembled all over. "You must never mention this to anyone. Keep it between you and Cordelia . . . for now."
"I-Is it that bad? My birth is the world's doom?" I think I was going to pass out for real.
Dad shook his head. "I will look into this and reconfirm with the High Warlocks. If it is what I think it is, I will never allow you to step foot in the Underworld."