Contracted Shadows

The demon camp looked different by night. Fires burned lower, shadows stretched longer. The air smelled of smoke and iron, and in the distance Morgana could hear the low thrum of wings as night patrols circled above the forest.

Her boots crunched softly against the dirt as she approached the largest tent in the camp, the general’s. But before she reached it, she slowed.

Ten demons lingered outside, all with wings, all armed. Some were strapping on cuirasses of black steel, others tightening belts or checking weapons. Their auras pressed faintly against her senses, power humming under their skin. They weren’t weaklings, that was for sure.

Morgana narrowed her eyes. Let me guess. Babysitters. And by the looks of it, they’re the ones I’m supposed to drag to the ruins.

One of them, a lean male with scaled arms and narrow wings like a bat, glanced up at her. His eyes widened, and he snapped to attention so fast he almost tripped over his own weapon. 

The others followed, murmurs rippling through the group. A couple looked down immediately, avoiding her gaze altogether.

Morgana only smirked and shoved past them without a word. Let them squirm.

Inside the tent, General Kaelith loomed over a map spread across the table, speaking in low tones with another demon; Malakar, the seer weirdo. The sight of his helmeted face made Morgana’s gut tighten for a moment. She hadn’t expected him to still be here.

Too late to back out now.

“Well, well,” she said loudly, slapping a folded piece of parchment onto the map between them. “Before we head out, you two need to sign some paperwork.”

Both demons turned toward her, blinking. Kaelith frowned. “Paperwork?”

Morgana leaned forward on the table, tapping the parchment with a nail. “Standard adventurer’s contract. Protects me if anything goes wrong, keeps everything official, you know the drill." 

She stepped to the side and twirled her long blue hair. "You hire me, I guide your merry band of winged misfits, you keep your claws off the humans in Althwyn and this gives us a tidy paper trail if anyone starts asking questions."

She went near the big demon, leaned in closer, and lowered her voice. “Besides, you want a written record saying someone hired me. If the humans sniff around and I get dragged into questions, I wave this thing in their faces, and you get to stay out of the spotlight. Everyone wins.” 

Kaelith reached for it. Malakar’s hand half-lifted, as if to stop him. “General—”

“We don’t have time for ink games,” Kaelith cut in, already uncapping the ink. He didn’t bother unfolding the parchment fully, just enough to find the signature line. “Your command stands for this mission. No harm to Althwyn. That’s sufficient.”

He scrawled his name and pressed his sigil seal with a firm, impatient push.

Morgana’s smile was all sweet poison. “Perfect.”

She whisked the parchment away before Malakar could so much as inhale, tucking it safely into her cloak. No need to linger. The Rewards section, right there in bold, neat and undeniable, could stay their little surprise for later.

“See you outside, General,” she said, already turning on her heel. “Wings up in five.”

Outside, the winged demons stiffened as she appeared. Morgana crossed her arms, giving them a look sharp enough to cut steel.

“Listen up, kiddies,” she said. “From now until we hit those ruins, you follow my word. You don’t scratch a human, you don’t sneeze too loud, and you sure as hell don’t get caught. If I say stop, you stop. If I say jump, you jump. Clear?”

Silence.

Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t hear a fucking answer.”

“Yes, my lady!” they chorused, voices stumbling over one another.

“Better.” Morgana nodded, satisfied. 

What she didn’t notice, or at least didn’t consciously register, was the way her aura had spread outward, heavy and suffocating. A couple of demons shook where they stood, wings twitching nervously. Others stared at her like she was a star falling from the sky, awe shining in their eyes.

One of them, a broad-shouldered male with a jagged scar running down his cheek, dared a shaky grin. “Strong words for someone so… uh… small.”

The others hissed at him in warning, but Morgana barked a laugh. “Careful, scarface. I’ve gutted things twice your size without breaking a sweat.”

The group chuckled nervously. The tension eased just a little.

They launched into the night sky soon after, wings beating hard against the cool air. Morgana took the lead, cloak streaming behind her, her own leathery wings cutting easily through the wind.

The first hour passed in silence. Below, the flicker of human campfires dotted the landscape. Patrols marched along dirt roads, spears glinting in the moonlight. 

Once, a group of soldiers paused and craned their heads upward, as though sensing movement. Morgana cursed under her breath and cast Veil of Silence, smothering the sound of wings until the humans moved on.

When they finally landed for their first break, a couple of the demons slumped against trees, panting.

“Wings cramping already?” Morgana teased, hands on her hips. “What, do you lot skip leg day and wing day?”

The scarred demon groaned but laughed. “Easy for you to say. You fly like you were born to it.”

Morgana gave a sly smile. If only you knew.

Another demon, a wiry female with short horns, spoke up shyly. “Where… where did you learn to command like that? You don’t sound like a seer, or a general.”

“Command?” Morgana raised a brow. “I’m not commanding. I’m babysitting. There’s a difference.”

That earned a few chuckles.

Introductions trickled out slowly. The scarred demon was Varzak. The wiry female was Seris. Another, quieter male with dark feathers flecking his wings was Nerith, who kept shooting nervous glances at her. 

And at the back of the group stood a calm figure with pale markings on his face, Elarion, the seer Malakar had assigned. He said little, but Morgana caught him watching her with unsettling calm.

The second hour of flight carried them past the human frontlines. Morgana led them low over the treetops, shadows swallowing their shapes. She cast silence again when voices rose too loud, glaring at them until they hushed.

“Do you always glare like that?” Varzak muttered once.

“Yes,” Morgana shot back. “Keeps idiots from testing my patience.”

By the third break, the group had warmed up to her banter. Varzak cracked jokes about her “tiny wings,” to which Morgana responded by pointing out how he nearly faceplanted on takeoff. 

Seris asked questions about her time among humans, baffled when Morgana mentioned “board meetings” and “bathhouses with running water.” 

Nerith finally asked if all highborn were as blunt as her, to which Morgana grinned and said, “No, I’m special.”

Even Elarion, the quiet seer, eventually spoke: “You carry yourself strangely for one of our kind. Like you’ve lived outside your skin.”

Morgana just chuckled. “Maybe I have.”

By the fourth hour, they reached the village Morgana remembered all too well. Its lanterns glowed faint in the night, shadows of villagers moving between houses. Morgana tightened her jaw and steered the group wide, leading them deep into the forest instead.

“Why avoid them?” Seris asked.

“Because if one farmer sees ten demons and starts screaming, your whole army has a problem,” Morgana replied flatly. “Use your head.”

When they landed for their final break, the mood was tired but lighter. Even Varzak stopped teasing, too worn to joke. Morgana let them rest longer this time, standing guard and keeping her eyes on the treeline.

Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to the ruined castle. Back where I cracked out of that egg. Hell of a homecoming.

The final hour was the hardest. Their wingbeats grew sluggish, breaths heavier. But Morgana pushed them on, snapping orders whenever someone lagged.

At last, the forest gave way to a clearing, and there it was: the shattered silhouette of the castle. Broken towers clawed at the sky, walls collapsed inward, gates rusted and cracked. Moonlight painted the ruins silver and black.

Morgana landed softly before the gates, boots crunching on old stone. One by one, the demons dropped behind her, wings folding with exhausted sighs.

She stared up at the ruins, unease twisting in her gut. Back where it all started. And now I’ve got a flock of demons at my back. What the fuck am I even doing?

Her smirk returned anyway. She turned, hands on her hips. “Welcome to the middle of nowhere. Try not to trip on the rubble. I’d hate for you to die of embarrassment before the real fun starts.”

The demons managed weak chuckles. And there, before the broken gates of the castle that birthed her, Morgana led her unlikely company into silence.