The soft hum of magic filled the air as Theresa, the ghastly butterfly, fluttered about the room, her wings a delicate blend of translucent light blues and glowing whites. She hovered just above Eren's father, her light magic weaving gently around the injured man as if it were the softest lullaby. Her optimism was as bright as the aura that surrounded her.
Eren stood by the bedside, his brows furrowed, hands gripping the edge of the table, his voice low but filled with urgency. "Theresa, Ley... you're telling me that everything is going to be alright? That Father will be fine in a day or two?" His voice was tight with worry, but also the pressure of the unknown.
Theresa fluttered closer, her wings brushing against the air with a soft shimmer. She gave Eren a reassuring, almost maternal look—her voice light, but strong in its certainty.
"Of course, Eren! Your father's as tough as an oak tree. A few scratches from a beast aren't going to take him down. It'll be a day or two, maybe three, but he'll be up and about, ready to scold you for being too worried. You know how he is," she said with a bright, gentle laugh, her wings catching the light with each flutter.
Eren glanced at her, not entirely convinced, then turned to Ley, who was sprawled lazily on the windowsill. The fat cat stretched with a dramatic yawn, eyes half-closed in a state of blissful indifference.
Ley lazily raised his head, his round eyes flicking toward Eren, then to the injured man. He licked his paw, uninterested in the drama unfolding but still aware of the situation.
"Yeah, yeah, kid. What she said," Ley muttered, his voice heavy with a laid-back drawl. He wasn't particularly moved by the severity of the situation—his main concern was the bowl of fish he could smell in the next room. "Your pops is tough, alright. He's had worse than this. What he's got now? Barely a scratch for an adventurer. Let the butterfly work her magic, and he'll be fine."
Eren scowled slightly, still not satisfied. He crossed his arms. "But what about the beast? Mother's worried it was a strong one. She even left to go warn the guild about it." He paused. "Do you think she's right? Is there really something out there, lurking near the town?"
Theresa's wings stilled for a moment. She fluttered in front of Eren, her expression serious yet still warm. "I think it's a good idea to be cautious. I know your mother—she's an experienced adventurer, just like your father. If she's worried, there's a reason for it."
Ley rolled his eyes. "Here we go. You're just like her," he grumbled. "Always making a big deal outta nothing. But, kid... listen to your mom. She's been through more dangerous situations than you can count. She knows what she's doing. Better safe than sorry, right? A little precaution never hurt anyone."
"But—"
"Eren," Theresa interrupted, her voice soft but firm. "You're not wrong to be concerned. It's good that you're thinking ahead. But what your mother is doing is smart. If there's a beast out there, no harm in assuming it's a threat—better to be prepared than caught off guard. If it is dangerous, she's already taking action. Trust her."
Eren looked down at his father, his heart heavy with the weight of both worry and responsibility. "I just... I don't want to lose anyone. Not now."
Ley gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "I get it. You're scared. But you've got us, kid. We're here to help. And your parents? They've got this. You don't need to be the one who carries the whole world on your shoulders. Sometimes, you gotta trust other people to do their part."
Theresa fluttered again, landing delicately on the edge of the bed. "And remember, Eren, your father and mother are a team. You're part of that team, too. But it's okay to let them lead when they know best."
Eren took a deep breath, looking from Theresa to Ley, then back to his father. Slowly, he let the tension in his body ease, if only a little. "Alright... I'll trust them. I just need to focus on keeping the house in order until she comes back."
Ley stretched lazily again, his eyes half-closed in contentment. "That's the spirit, kid. Now, let me know when dinner's ready."
Theresa's wings shimmered brightly, her smile wide. "And I'll keep your father comfortable, Eren. Don't worry about a thing. You've got enough on your plate already."
Eren smiled faintly, feeling a little lighter, a little more at peace. He gave his father one last glance, the faintest sense of relief creeping in. Maybe his father would be alright sooner than he thought.
"I'll trust her... I'll trust them," Eren whispered to himself, as much to reassure himself as to reinforce his faith in his parents
Eren leaned against the wooden table, his gaze lingering on his father's still form. The room was quiet except for the soft flutter of Theresa's wings, the faint hum of her light magic weaving through the air as she continued to heal the injured man. Though Eren's mind was filled with worry, there was little more he could do for the moment. His mother had left for the guild, and his father was in capable hands, both of which were reassuring—but his heart still carried a weight of concern.
His thoughts drifted to the beings who had been by his side for as long as he could remember—Theresa and Ley. Creatures of magic, each with their own unique abilities, each so very different from one another yet both integral to the small family they formed together.
Theresa's magic, for one, was remarkable. Her light magic was gentle, but it held immense power. Healing, for instance, was something she excelled at. She could mend wounds with a soft touch, and her magic had an uncanny ability to speed up recovery. It wasn't just about healing, though. She could create holograms—perfectly formed, lifelike illusions. Eren often marveled at how easily she could trick the eye, her magic so precise that it was nearly impossible to tell what was real and what was a projection. He imagined that, in battle, such magic could be invaluable. It would be easy to deceive an enemy, to make them think she was somewhere she wasn't, or perhaps trick them into attacking false targets. Theresa was more than just a healer; in the right hands, her abilities could be a powerful weapon.
Then there was Ley.
Ley, the dark brown, exceedingly fat cat, was a creature of surprising strength, or at least that was what his mother claimed. Most of the time, though, the lazy feline was content to lie sprawled out on a windowsill, a mass of fur that, if one didn't notice his tail, could easily be mistaken for an overgrown potato. Eren couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself at the thought. Ley was often a source of amusement in their household, though his antics were far from lacking in mischievousness.
As much as Eren teased him, there was no denying the cat's unique capabilities. Though Ley was often the embodiment of laziness, with his constant talk of stealing food from the local market, he had been gifted with the magic of physical enhancement. This magic allowed him to enhance his physical strength and grow in size, though in Eren's experience, all that growth tended to do was make him even more enormous and, as a result, even harder to move. Still, his mother trusted Ley's abilities, and she had left him behind to look after Eren while she went to warn the guild.
Eren often found himself waking up to Ley's face—specifically, the cat's overly affectionate habit of licking him, usually right across his face. The cat was convinced that any part of him that Ley deemed "dirty" needed immediate attention. It was a strange sort of intimacy, one that Eren had never quite understood. Perhaps it was just a cat's nature, but Eren had read somewhere that cats licked things they considered unclean. He certainly didn't think his face was dirty, but Ley didn't seem to care.
No matter how much Eren found the behavior baffling, he couldn't bring himself to be angry. Ley's fluffiness, after all, was just too much to resist. Sometimes, when he was particularly tired, Eren would even find himself sleeping on Ley, the cat's large, soft body providing an unexpectedly comfortable cushion.
Still, as lazy as Ley could be, he was a guardian in his own right. His mother wouldn't have left him behind if she didn't believe in his strength. Eren trusted her judgment, even if he wasn't entirely convinced that the cat's physical prowess was ever going to amount to anything more than an amusing party trick.
Ley wasn't the only one who gave Eren pause, however. Theresa's optimism, in contrast to Ley's lazy nature, was a balm for his nerves. Despite the tense situation, she remained upbeat, confident in her ability to heal and calm those around her. Eren had seen her work miracles before—her magic was soothing and reliable, especially when it came to his father. If anyone could get him back on his feet quickly, it was Theresa.
Eren, though still uncertain about the larger situation, decided to meditate and focus on trying to sense magic.
-----—
While somewhere the air was suffocating—heavy with the stench of decay, thick with the weight of death. The man knelt in the darkness, his body trembling as he dared not look up. The cold stone beneath him felt alive, oppressive. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle against the fear that gripped him.
A voice echoed through the shadows, deep and guttural, as though it came from the very air itself. "He got away."
The man's throat tightened, and his voice barely escaped. "I... I tried. He escaped."
The silence that followed seemed to stretch on forever, suffocating. Then, the voice returned, sharp and commanding. "You have two days. Fail, and you will be replaced."
The man's heart stuttered. His chest tightened with dread as the words rang through him like a death sentence. He dared not move, dared not speak. The weight of the presence pressed on him, suffocating the air.
And then, as suddenly as it had arrived, the oppressive presence vanished. The silence that followed was deafening.
The man stayed kneeling, heart hammering in his chest. His pulse roared in his ears, but he knew—knew with a sickening certainty—that the creature in the shadows was no mere mortal. It was a demon. And failure meant death.
With trembling hands, he slowly rose, his legs weak, and fled into the darkness.