Discover

The morning sun climbed lazily into the sky, spilling gold through the church window. Ylfa’s ears twitched as she stirred, her eyes flickering open. The bed beneath her was warm and springy, softer than anything she’d slept on in weeks. She sat up groggily, her ears drooping with sleep.

Jere looked up at the movement from where he sat on the floor, unmoving as ever.

“Good morning.”

She rubbed her eyes and groaned, her voice still rough with sleep.
“What do you do all night, anyway?”

His face remained impassive.
“I think.”

Ylfa twisted and slid off the bed, stretching until her back popped.
“Think?”

He nodded.

She yawned wide, her fangs flashing, then licked her lips as she shook herself awake.
“What’s the outlook for the day?”

“Good weather all round. Light winds, scattered cloud…”

She sighed and flicked her tail.
“No, I mean what’s the outlook for us. What are we doing today?”

He shrugged.
“If you mean am I able to fly, the answer is no.”

She nodded, biting her lip thoughtfully.
“Okay. Then what are we going to do?”

Another shrug.

Her heart gave a faint thud - faster than normal. She took a breath and forced the words out, trying to sound casual.
“W-well, how about… you follow me today?”

His expression didn’t change.
“What do you mean?”

She pouted at him.
“Oh, come on. It’s not that hard to understand.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.
“There’s more than one way to interpret that.”

She crossed her arms, ears flicking.
“Yeah? Like what?”

He raised his hand and began counting off his fingers one by one.
“Literally follow. Metaphorically follow. Obedience. Hierarchical submission. Ritual-”

She groaned, throwing up her hands in mock surrender.
“Alright, alright, you win. I meant literally.”

He lowered his hand.
“Alright.”

Rising smoothly to his feet, he adjusted his clothes as if ready for orders.
“Where are we going?”

Ylfa grinned, her tail wagging.
“I don’t know! Let’s go find out!”

She darted toward the door, excitement bubbling in her chest. For the first time, Jere didn’t lead. He followed - quiet, deliberate steps behind her as her heart warmed with triumph.

She’d done it.

They wandered through the bustling streets of the city, indistinguishable from the crowd. Ylfa, in full human form, and Jere, who always looked human when his wings were retracted. To the world around them, they were just another young pair drifting through the marketplace. No one noticed that a Formy and the Angel of Death strolled side by side, only a few feet from unsuspecting citizens.

Ylfa’s eyes darted from one shopfront to another, always curious, always hungry for novelty. She tugged lightly at Jere’s sleeve and pointed across the street.

“Hey, look at that sign! We should take a look inside!”

The sign was painted with a strange emblem: a skull and crossbones, but with roasted chicken legs for bones and the head of a cow grinning where the skull should be. Jere studied it with faint suspicion.

“I don’t have any money,” he said flatly.

She blinked, then nodded with mock seriousness.
“Me neither. That could be a problem.”

But a sly grin immediately brightened her face.
“Still, that’s alright. I’ve got a trick up my sleeve.”

Jere glanced down, waiting to see what she would pull out. Ylfa only stared back, suddenly awkward.
“…You know it’s just a saying, right?”

Something stirred in him. For the first time in a long while, a surge of unfamiliar heat rushed to his face. His processors scrambled to catalogue it - an entirely new response.

Ylfa’s eyes widened. She clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Jere… you’re blushing! You do have emotions!”

The warmth deepened, his face betraying him even as his expression stayed carefully neutral. The data within him swelled, his systems almost… jubilant at recording the moment.

“I’ve always had emotions,” he replied evenly.

Her sly smile returned, sharp and playful.
“Robot.”

For a heartbeat he only stared at her. Something about the curve of her grin unlocked a new response entirely. His lungs expelled air in a short huff through his nose - quiet, abrupt.

Ylfa gasped in delight. Her eyes sparkled like gemstones catching the sun.
“You can laugh too!”

Laughter. He remembered witnessing it countless times, but never feeling it himself. His processors flagged the sensation as both familiar and utterly new. Another emotion to add to the growing list.

“I suppose I can,” he admitted.

Her grin widened until it nearly split her face. From her pocket she produced a small leather pouch and dangled it teasingly beside her head.

“Well then - come on. Let’s get something to celebrate.”

He tilted his head, regarding the bag.
“What’s in there?”

She swayed it playfully.
“Precious gems.”

His brow rose.
“Did you steal it?”

Her eyes widened and she laughed, covering her mouth again.
“You’re making jokes now? Wow - you’re way more human than I thought!”

It hadn’t been a joke, but Jere accepted her interpretation without correction. His expression stayed as unreadable as ever.

“So what are you going to do with those?” he asked.

Her grin softened into a thoughtful frown.
“I thought you would’ve guessed. I’m going to sell them, of course.”

“I did guess,” Jere replied, “but you usually respond better when I ask.”

Her eyes warmed at that, and she gave a small, genuine smile.
“You’re right. I do prefer it. Thank you.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Ylfa pointed suddenly toward a nearby side street.
“I saw a gemsmith around here the other day. Let’s see if they’ll take them.”

Jere nodded, and together they pushed deeper into the maze of streets, their footsteps in quiet rhythm.

The gemsmith nearly dropped his eyepiece when he examined the stones the red-eyed girl laid out on his counter. Even with decades of experience, he had seen nothing like them outside of the crown’s private collection. The emerald in his hand caught the lantern light, scattering it into countless green shards that shimmered across the walls. Pure. Flawless.

He lowered the lens slowly, steadying his breath. Stones of this caliber should never have found their way into the hands of a slip of a girl and her silent, black-clad companion. And yet here they were, glittering temptations spread across the counter like bait.

“How much are you asking?” he asked at last, voice carefully neutral.

The girl folded her arms and tilted her head, lips curling into a smug smile.
“Five hundred gold. No lower.”

His gaze darted back to the emerald, then to the rest of the collection - a cascade of rubies, sapphires, and diamonds that could have funded a small army.

“Five hundred?” he echoed, half in disbelief.

Her smile widened.
“For the emerald in your hand.”

He blinked. Oh. Not all of them.

The silent man at her side - expressionless, unreadable - might as well have been carved from stone. His presence pressed at the air like a weight. The gemsmith swallowed.

“And the rest?” he asked, more cautiously now.

“Fourteen platinum,” she replied without hesitation, grin sharp and knowing.

Yes, she knew exactly what she was holding. He suppressed a groan. There was no bargaining with someone like her.

“I’ll take the emerald,” he said at last. “I can’t afford the rest. I’m sorry.”

She inclined her head graciously.
“Deal.”

Their hands clasped briefly. The coins clinked onto the counter in neat stacks, each piece gleaming in the lamplight. She counted them with a practiced hand before sliding the purse closed. The man gathered the other stones in silence, returning them to the small leather bag with care that seemed almost mechanical.

The gemsmith’s eyes followed the pouch hungrily as the girl pocketed it with a sweet smile.

“Thank you,” she said brightly, as though they’d just bartered over apples.

And then the pair was gone, vanishing into the market crowd as swiftly as they had appeared.

The gemsmith sagged back into his chair, raising the emerald again to the light. A beauty like this belonged in legends, not his hands. Where in all the gods’ names had that girl found such treasures? It wasn’t his place to ask, of course. Best not to.

But one thing was certain: this emerald alone would make his fortune. And if she hadn’t sold the rest by the time he was ready… perhaps he’d see her again.

“There we go, problem solved!” Ylfa chirped, lifting the heavy purse above her head as though it were a trophy. The coins clinked against each other, a happy little song that matched the spring in her step.

Jere regarded it with a small nod.
“Where to?”

She turned, walking backwards for a moment, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.
“Want to try that restaurant?”

“I don’t need to eat.”

She puffed out her cheeks and sighed, exaggerated but genuine.
“You could, you know. For me.”

Something stirred in his chest - an odd flicker, quickly captured and dissected by his processors. Commands parsed, results compiled. In less than a heartbeat, he had his answer.

He nodded.
“Alright. For you.”

Her whole face lit up, eyes sparkling with delight.
“Really? Thank you! I’m so excited!”

Her joy was radiant, and his processors screamed in triumph. Their theory had been correct again. Whenever he yielded to her requests - especially when she softened her tone, sometimes with a sigh - gratitude followed. The best outcome was always to comply, or failing that, to comfort her. Current success rate: eighty-three percent. Predictive model: promising.

They turned back into the streets, weaving toward the restaurant.

But deep within Jere’s body, something else stirred.

His reactor had been straining for hours, forced to climb higher and higher as it adapted. Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent. A knife edge. It hated the magic energy, resisted it at every step, yet could not reject it. The processors waited, loop running, clock ticking. The moment inevitable.

And then the line of code fired.

The limiter fell away. His reactor surged, hitting one hundred percent in an instant. Power roared through his systems like a flood breaking its dam. Jere froze mid-step, rigid as his mind seized, all processing rerouted to survival.

“Hello? Jere?” Ylfa waved a hand in front of his blank face, ears twitching in concern.

His boots groaned as his processors discharged the excess power into the ground, blue-white sparks sizzling across the cobblestones. For a moment, it seemed contained - stabilizing, settling-

And then Ylfa reached for his hand.

“Hey, are you alri-”

The touch bridged the circuit.

Electric force blasted through her body. She screamed as her own magic rebelled, surging wild and uncontrolled. Her shape convulsed, ears and tail snapping into existence with a rush of fur. The street went deathly still.

The market froze. Coins stopped clinking. A cartwheel creaked to a halt. Dozens of eyes fixed on her in perfect silence.

Ylfa’s breaths came ragged, panic flickering in her gaze.

Jere’s awareness flooded back. His head snapped toward her, systems already calculating responses, but the crowd moved first.

A man clutching a bag of groceries staggered backward, arm shaking as he thrust out a trembling finger.
“D-d-d… demon!”

And the silence shattered.

Screams erupted. Baskets overturned. Mothers yanked children behind them. A vendor hurled his wares aside as he bolted. Chaos cascaded through the street, raw fear spreading like fire in dry grass.

And at its center, Ylfa stood, ears flat against her head, tail flicking as her eyes darted wildly-
exposed.

And beside her, Jere straightened, his shadow falling long across the cobblestones.

All hell had broken loose.