Chapter 4: The Demon Without a Name (Patreon)

Not that anyone asked, but Tol really quite hated Cedric Lux despite the general attitude of Haven toward the man, and if she had been asked for a reason, she probably would have started with the fact that the man had murdered her parents.

In the warm, glowing light of the crystal set around the room, Tol fiddled idly with her pen, flicking it through her fingers with practiced twitches, the nub hovering over a blank page for the last hour the observation journal Mother Superior had asked her to fill out as the most neutral party in the group, decidedly unwritten in.

Which was quite frankly an insane request, but knowing her sisters, Tol knew that unfortunately Mother Superior was right.

Where to even begin?

Her eyes flicked to the book to her side, one that had been given to her by the, as usual, unnaturally impassive Godric, who had handed it to her that morning with a nod before walking away to stand by himself, upon which she had shrunk it and put it away until now.

The title was scrawled across the cover in a slanted hand, ‘Accounts of Second Age remedies by Ulric.’ She sighed almost wistfully, shaking her head, her ears flattening on top of it reflexively.

Finally she began to jot down her notes.

Subject has demonstrated an odd but apparent kindness to other members of the Circle. He has also made statements and asked that contact with other members of the Circle be limited to our duties as a group, out of apparent concern for what might happen to other Circle members.

Tol frowned, tapping her pen against her lip, nibbling on the metal for a moment, before she continued.

In the same vein, Subject seems dismissive that his Father has let the attacks upon him continue unabated by any protection he could offer. This could demonstrate a degree of learned helplessness, a disregard for his own safety, or a general belief his Father wants what’s best for him. Subject is aware of at least a certain version of the Second War of Liberation and believes that his Father had no choice but to seal the Sin inside him after its emergence upon the field of battle. Subject acknowledges and believes that his Grandfather Ulric’s betrayal of Haven is a valid reason for some of the suspicion leveled towards him and his family. On a psychological note, this may make subversion of Subject more difficult as it positions Subject and his Father as one side against others. Subject does not seem to acknowledge that Ulric’s siding with the Caedreans prevented further loss of life, contributing to the current balance of power (see Journal 3, pg 42, paragraph 3 for further analysis of the current geopolitical situation upon the Northern Continent).

Tol’s eyes flicked for a moment from her own writing to Ulric’s journal again.

Would it hurt to take a break just for a bit?

Ulric, of all people, had written it; by hand at that. Sure, she was no White Mage, but she had already skimmed some pages, and there were poultices within that did not require White Magic to utilize, not to mention the fascinating notes regarding usage on wounded soldiers provided insight into the First War of Liberation that she rather doubted many other books would contain.

Tol glanced at the clock and grimaced at how far the hand had gone, going back to her notes hastily.

Given the relationship Subject’s lineage has to present in the analysis, a brief description of his two lines is necessary. While Subject is a Firstborn, son of Cedric, himself son of Ulric, this is not the full analysis. Current information purports that Subject’s mother was an elven caedrean-aligned mage named Lux, confirmed at least in part by Cedric and Godric both holding the last name Lux. Information surrounding this Lux is extremely limited, but what information can be confirmed is included in the General Appendix under Lux and is relayed here.

Lux was an elven mage who emerged from the waters underneath the Lone Tree at least several hundred years ago, and she was named by Cedric during his initiation.

Information regarding Lux and her existence is extremely limited; records have seemingly been expunged of her name, leaving only the final name she gave Cedric and her son in existence.

Tol paused the scrawl of her pen for a moment as she contemplated adding another sentence, her eyes flicking to the wall to her right where she knew Skadi was currently likely asleep, before she very consciously set down her pen, massaging her wrist idly.

A knock echoed lightly off the door to her room, not insistent, a gentle tap to be answered at her convenience, even as a slightly sweet but acrid scent hit Tol’s sensitive nose.

Tol turned her head and cast a spell with a thought and flicker of green, allowing her sight to easily pass through the door to see the almost sheepishly slumped form of Deir, slightly slouched and with cheeks that were faintly red.

Tol sniffed before sighing, “Come in, Mother,” she said quietly.

Deir chuckled from behind the door a light-sounding thing- and the door swung open, and the tall woman stepped in, her white hair cut close to her head, her silver eyes gleaming as she regarded her.

“Deir is fine, Tol, you know that,” Deir gently chided her. Her breath had a smoky, alcoholic scent to it even from here.

Which meant that she had been partaking in seemingly her only and most favorite pastime, that was, if you didn’t count fomenting revolution.

Tol shrugged, not interested in explaining herself to the woman to whom she owed her life. If anyone had earned the right to be called Mother, it was her, and if anyone had earned the right to drink her sorrows away, it was her.

Speaking of which, “Your nephew has serious issues,” she said, frowning at Deir, crossing her arms across her chest.

Deir looked at her with a raised eyebrow, a bemused smile emerging on her face. “Unfortunately, he takes after his family,” she replied dryly.

“You should tell him,” Tol said bluntly, crossing her arms as she locked eyes with Deir, whose silver took on a softer amusement.

Deir raised an eyebrow at her, “I expected that from Skadi, not you,” she remarked, and though the words were blunt, they weren’t aggressive, an observation asking for an answer.

Tol shrugged, “I don’t see how telling your nephew one of his few blood relatives still resides in this world will cause a bigger issue than waiting for him to find out himself.”

Deir sighed, shaking her head, her lips turning down into a frown, though it wasn’t censorious, “Cedric must already have a plan in place if I do so, not to mention the obvious question of where I have been this entire time.”

Tol raised an eyebrow at the woman, “You think Cedric Lux would deny the fact you are his sister?”

Deir smiled a soft thing, though her eyes remained focused on Tol, crossing her arms, “Am I?” she said, her silver eyes gleaming in the warm light of the room, “I am no Lux.”

“I’m unsure of what that even means, being a Lux that is.” Tol frowned at Deir, crossing her arms uncomfortably, the perhaps insulting implied question springing forth against her will; she hesitated for a moment, “I actually need it for my report,” she attempted to cover.

Deir raised an eyebrow at her, still smiling, but now she had straightened, crossing her arms, her intoxication not enough to remove the sharp light of intelligence from her eyes. She did not frown, but her face became slightly melancholic.

“I suppose it’s not in the records anymore, is it?” She released a breath, crossing her arms over her stomach, seemingly almost hugging herself, “Lux was a wonderful woman, a breath of calm fresh air wherever she went; she loved everything and everyone she met.” Deir shook her head, seemingly amused by some memory, “But she loved nothing more than Cedric. The one who gave her the name Lux and the one in turn she gave that name back to along with her son.”

Tol hesitated, her pen refusing to move as the natural question flickered through her mind, tinged with the smallest amount of anger ever present in her, “I don’t understand how anyone could love that man,” she replied, looking away.

Deir chuckled, and her eyes glistened for a moment as she stared into space, “He was once a great man, humble, honest, caring; there was a reason he was made Commander of the Temple Knights.”

“And now?” Tol said, attempting not to glare at Deir, “Even as he defies the Council by keeping his son alive?”

Deir smiled, but it was not a kind smile. “But isn’t that his real power? Somehow the man who holds the strongest military force in Haven does not need to defend his own Son, the only real leverage that could be had over him, a son that the Council would be more than pleased if he were murdered. Does that itself say that Cedric is far more powerful than anyone in Haven?”

Tol frowned and looked back to her notes, rereading an earlier paragraph, “I thought Cedric simply just did not care for his son,” she admitted quietly.

Deir shook her head, her eyes almost wistful, “If that were true, then our work would be much simpler,” she said quietly.

-

Godric Lux was dreaming a familiar dream, and it was only the fact he knew it was a dream that lent him the strength to let it play out.

He was walking through a darkly shaded forest that did little to inhibit his silver eyes, with massive trees that surrounded him, made far more massive by how small he was.

He glanced down at his forearms that lay uncovered from his silver silken shirt, noting the healing bruises on them, and the idle thought passed through his mind that he must have been attacked again, though it was strange because he hadn’t gotten seriously injured in some years, and furthermore his limbs were far too small for what they should be.

Why was he here?

It was the question he always asked himself in this dream but never found an answer for.

His bare feet collided gently against the ground as he walked through the forest.

The only sounds he could hear were his breath, and the only sight he could see was more darkened trees; his nose, on the other hand, was filled with the loamy scent of the forest's soil, along with the smell of nearby water breaching his nostrils gently.

Something moved, and for a moment Godric automatically pressed a hand against his chest, searching for his athame, only for his grasping fingers to find nothing.

It was always odd how he didn’t have it, since his Father had given him his athame; he could scarcely recall a time he didn’t carry it.

Patiently, Godric waited for his head to turn, and when it did, his eyes landed on a particularly inky patch of darkness underneath a tree. Small, almost fragile, attempting to blend into its surroundings.

His lips turned down as he walked towards it, and concern welled in him, and he knelt down to the patch of ground, staring at the darkness that to his eyes looked like the night sky.

“You’re hurt,” he heard his voice echo out in the silence, higher pitched than it was now but still recognizably his.

The shadows shifted, seemingly realizing that it had been noticed, and he felt its panic in the air.

He spoke again, and his voice creaked like the trees around him, along with a soft swishing sound, and a circle of white light spun into existence on his palm, lines rapidly forming before it washed over the shadows, traversing its existence, finding its wounds and slowly tying them shut.

Sweat began to bead on Godric’s face as he focused on the existence before him, filling in the gaps that had been torn open, an impression of claws and teeth flashing through his mind as he did so.

Finally his work was done, and he released a breath, wiping his brow as he looked down at the pool that he could now feel regarding him with surprise; then it spoke to him, a voice filtering into his head.

“Why did you help me?” It was soft, gentle like the night air.

Godric frowned.

“You don’t need a reason to help someone,” he replied, echoing words his Father had always said to him and maybe understanding them just a bit more this time.

The shadows reached up, curling around his arm, and Godric giggled, again something far more high-pitched and cheerful than he remembered himself being capable of, and a new question was asked.

“Will you take me with you?” the night air asked.

Godric winced and then slowly shook his head, “My Dad said I couldn’t take any spirits out of the Roots,” he frowned looking down at the shadows, “I really would, I could use more friends,” he finished attempting to get through to the shadows as he felt them shrink, “But you still need to grow, my Dad said once you spend long enough at the Roots you’ll gain a physical form.”

“Really?’ the night air shimmered happily, stars stirring across the inky blackness, before the shadow's excitement died, “I’ve been here so long, though.” The words were quiet, and Godric's eyes began to flare with heat as tears began to trickle from them.

“It’s lonely here,” the night air said quietly.

Godric frowned and looked down; he couldn’t disobey his father. His hand unconsciously fell to the floor of the forest, expecting the soft loamy dirt, but instead landed on something smooth, and he blinked as he felt over it, realizing what it was: an onyx.

He looked up to the branches above him, spotting the tell-tale signs of stone weaving throughout the branches; it was a gem tree.

“That’s mine!” the night air said reprovingly, and Godric felt a smile emerging on his face from how childish it sounded.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, holding it back up to the shadow before a thought occurred to him, something he had read in one of his family's journals.

“If you want to leave, you need to get stronger,” he told the shadow matter-of-factly with all the confidence of a small child, “If you want, I can enchant this stone, and as long as you hold it, you’ll get stronger.”

The shadow flexed excitedly, “Really!? Will you!?”

Godric nodded his head and concentrated, whispering a sound that crackled like water in a brook before the stone glowed a bright white, then settled, and Godric placed it on the ground in front of the shadow before holding up a finger.

“Remember,” he said seriously, “As long as you keep it on you, you’ll grow stronger; more than that, it means that if you ever need me, just say your name into it and it’ll let me know.”

The night sky vibrated excitedly before it hesitated, “But I don’t have a name?” it said, confused.

Godric frowned; the spell only worked with names, and without one, the enchantment wouldn’t take.

“I could give you one,” he said hesitantly, unsure of his offer because his Father had also been clear he shouldn’t name anything in the Under Forest, but he didn’t want to leave his new friend without the ability to call to him if they needed him.

“You would?” the night sky asked, and its tone was almost breathlessly excited.

Godric nodded firmly; he was committed now, and he wouldn’t go back. “Of course,” he said firmly.

The night sky hesitated, then it ran up along his arm, coiling around his neck, “Please,” it said softly.

Godric closed his eyes, and he reached out, planting a hand on the darkness, feeling the cool substance sink over his flesh for a moment, and then reached out to the creature with his mind as he read he should, feeling its existence against his own, searching for a like name.

For some indeterminate time he crouched there searching, finding, and dismissing names till one skated across his mind.

“You’re-

-

Godric’s eyes opened, and he frowned at the familiar ceiling; that dream was one of the hardest ones.

Not just because it was one where he could do magic other than Barrier, but because the shadow was always so friendly and it reminded him what it was like back when he could have a friend.

Godric sat up, pulling his thin, silken sheets off his body, yawning cavernously.

‘Man, your room is a mess!’

Godric spun, tumbling off his bed onto the wooden floor in a tangle of limbs before he spun to his feet as he readied himself, only to see the same cat from the forest lazily licking its paw on his windowsill.

“The hells,” he said, blandly locking eyes with the beast, “are you doing in my room?’

The cat sighed and visibly shook his head. ‘Where did you think I lived? The Forest?’

Godric took a small but deep breath, steadying himself; beasts weren’t supposed to be able to enter Haven unless someone brought them in.

“Demon?” he asked cautiously, his eyes flickering to his desk where his athame lay gleaming slightly in the morning light since he had gotten done polishing it.

The cat cocked its head. ‘Even if I was, would you still attack? You’d kill the cat I was possessing,’ it said almost cheerfully.

Godric scowled at the cat. “I’m a Sinbearer,” he growled. “You don’t know what I would do; I’m not going to let you possess that cat; free her.”

The cat giggled, which was a very strange sound in his mind, and then shook its head in an oddly human motion. ‘This is exactly why I love you,’ it said cheerfully, ‘you think I’m a demon, a being that notoriously kills mages, and you still are more concerned with the cat you think I’m possessing.’

Godric frowned, uncomfortable with the demon's words, then cocked his head to the side, “So you’re saying you’re not a demon?” he asked.

The cat’s ears bent down to its head, and it very conspicuously looked away from him. ‘I am a demon by definition; but I also am something else. I’d like it if we could talk more before I tell you.’

Godric released a small breath and then combed his hand through his hair, pushing it back in thought. “Fine,” he shrugged his shoulders, “But I want you to promise me you’re not going to hurt anyone.”

The cat twitched its tail to the side. ‘I could lie,’ it pointed out.

Godric shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first, and if you do, I’m going to pummel you till you can’t move, then kick you out of Haven.”

The cat’s tail twitched to the other side, and its red eyes gleamed. ‘Agreed!’ it said cheerfully, then its red eyes seemed to flick down. ‘Would you like to get dressed first?’ the cat asked curiously.

Godric glanced down at his body and saw he was only wearing a pair of loose white sleep shorts showing off his torso, the faint lines of still healing scars from his most recent spars with his Father scratched across his chest in clean marks of his ineptitude.

“Right,” Godric shook his head, turning around and going to his closet to pick a shirt to cover the unpleasant sight, “Sorry,” he said as he pulled a soft white cloth shirt over his head and turned around, crossing his arms as he regarded the cat.

The cat cocked it’s head to the side, in almost confusion, ‘I thought you wore more than that?’ it said.

Godric frowned, “Are we going somewhere?” he asked.

‘It’d be easier,’ the cat admitted.

“Then I’ll need to actually get ready,” Godric shook his head before grabbing fresh clothing and exiting the room into his attached bathroom, whereupon he began to strip out of his clothing, exposing far too pale skin to the air, covering hard-won muscle.

Godric noted the cat followed him in, but he ignored the creature for now as he stepped across smooth marble stone until he entered the corner where a showerhead poked free from the wall.

Turning the knob, he sighed a small breath of relief as hot water began to run across tense muscles, and he began to methodically clean himself, first rinsing before applying soap.

Several minutes later, he finished and switched off the shower before he muttered a sound and white magic flared in a barrier around his skin, pushing the remaining water off it before dismissing the barrier and letting the water fall to the floor, leaving him dry.

The cat was still watching him, its red eyes wide in interest.

Godric brushed his teeth and rubbed his jaw, feeling the prickles of hair on it. He raised a finger, generating a small blade of white magic before beginning to run it along his face with care.

‘I’ve always wondered why you remove your hair on your cheeks and neck but leave the hair on your head,’ the cat mused behind him, not quite asking a question but not quite not asking a question.

For now Godric ignored the implication regarding how much the cat had observed him to reply, “Don’t like beards,” Godric replied dryly, glancing in the mirror for a moment to double-check his work before he turned and grabbed his clothing and fully got dressed, though given it was his day off he forwent his cloak, only putting on his undergarments, soft silken white pants, and then strapping his athame and holster on before he put on a black buttoned shirt leaving several buttons open to allow for him to draw his athame, before putting on socks and finally his black leather boots.

Then he turned to look at the cat who was still watching him in apparent fascination, “So?” he said blandly.

The cat’s ears twitched, and its tail flicked excitedly, ‘You look great!’ it replied

Godric shook his head, suppressing an amused twitch to his lips, “Not what I was asking; I meant where are we going?” he said.

‘Oh,’ the cat nodded its head before it leaped up, landing on his shoulders, and Godric didn’t flinch at all its weight, negligible to him, ‘I’ve always wanted to see one of the Temples with my own eyes,’ it said almost musingly.

Those… actually would have been the place Godric first would have thought to bring a demon, given the cat itself was asking was rather suspicious, but on the other hand it wasn’t like the Temple Knights wouldn’t be able to handle an average demon.

“Fine,” Godric grunted, “I’ll take you to the Northern one; it’s the closest,” he said.

Godric walked over to his windowsill before opening the massive glass pane, letting it swing out and then hopping out of it, landing softly on the dirt in front of his house before he walked through the gate, the bars turning to mist as per usual.

Godric walked the paths of his neighborhood with familiarity, headed towards the temple, his hands idly in his pockets.

Still, it was a bit of a walk till he reached the transport circle, and Godric found himself slowly losing his patience even as the cat itself seemed to be intently interested in its surroundings, excited even as it paced across his shoulders looking about in interest.

As he walked, he ignored the usual reactions to his mark, the subtle and not so subtle space people gave him, the quiet looks of concern or even overt fear as a human woman drew her kid in closer to her, sending him the smallest of glances.

A group of half-men working on a building’s gaze bristled as he walked past them, their work momentarily halted.

“Is there anything you can tell me before we get to the Temple?” Godric asked a bit quieter now.

The cat hummed and an odd sensation in his mind, ‘Sure, what do you want to know?’

Godric frowned; there was almost too much he wanted to know, but he supposed he had to start somewhere, “What should I call you?” he asked.

The cat shook its head, ‘Don’t you dare try to name me,’ it said shortly.

“I won’t,” Godric returned, “Naming doesn’t work if you don’t want one anyway,” he said, attempting to assuage the cat’s worries.

The cat’s tail swept along his shoulders and was silent for a moment before it spoke, ‘I left the Roots a long time ago on my own power. Most people I met after that tended to run in terror, and the ones who don’t try to seal me.’

Not a great start.

“Why’d they try and do that?” Godric couldn’t help but ask; if they were attempting a seal, then it was certainly White Mages who attempted to do so, potentially even Temple Knights.

The cat hummed again, ‘Why do so many people in Haven attack you?’ it asked in return, its paws beginning to knead on his shoulder along with the faintest prickles of its claws against his skin.

Godric blinked, unsure of how the cat knew that, but regardless, the words left his mouth before he gave it thought, “My Father said it’s because they’re afraid. Most only understand that Sins are the highest class of demons, elemental forces of nature and destruction without thought or care. They think if they abuse and beat me enough I’ll leave and by doing so keep them safe if the seal were to ever break.”

‘Then we’re the same,’ the cat said, nodding its head in an odd manner, ‘People fear me because I can destroy them, regardless of whether I would or not,’ it said, sounding almost amused.

Godric’s lips twitched at the cat’s words, not a smile but something observably close, “Would you?” Godric returned curious.

The cat didn’t respond for a moment, then, ‘Maybe,’ it admitted quietly, and Godric was surprised at the honesty, ‘the world seems to hate demons all because we gain enough strength to leave the Roots without being named,’ it pointed out.

Godric winced, not liking where the conversation was going, hearing his own words to his Father from a long time ago echo in his head, “My Father says without a name Demons accumulate too much power too quickly and that corrupts them and they invariably become Sins,” he said softly

The cat shook its head. ‘They’re not the same,’ it said almost petulantly, ‘Demons become sins when they give in to the world’s evil; before that, we’re just spirits who have taken tangible form.’

Godric rolled the cat’s words over in his head, not interested in contesting the cat’s knowledge. “You don’t think it’d be safer, regardless, to have a name?” he asked.

The cat’s tail twitched irritably.

‘I didn’t say I didn’t want a name,’ it said petulantly, ‘But why can’t I name myself? What makes you White Mage’s so much better than everyone else that you get to choose?’

“I won’t name you then,” Godric said, turning onto a more crowded street, spotting the transportation circle a little ways away.

As he walked towards it, he felt the cat startle on his shoulder, and he realized its eyes had locked upon a shop front with unflinching fascination. Spread out over a market stall were racks of freshly baked pastries glistening in the morning sun.

Godric’s lips stretched strangely against his will, almost a smile before he caught it.

He stepped forward a couple more steps and the cat’s head continued to swivel, locked onto its target.

Keeping his face straight, he began to walk towards the stall, ignoring the flinch of the stocky male human owner with greying hair and a tanned, lined face as he spotted him.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled forth a small pouch before he reached inside, fishing forth two silver metallic disks before flipping them to the owner’s counter as he grabbed a paper napkin from the open box set off to the side and then a golden pastry from a tray glistening with some kind of reddish fruit.

He nodded to the man, ignoring his flinch again before he walked away holding the pastry up to the cat so it could take a bite. The cat glanced back, its ears flattening to its head, before it dipped its neck down tentatively, sniffing at the pastry a couple times.

“It’s probably not poisoned,” Godric said, amused, a small smile on his face.

The cat lightly extended its claws, pressing into his flesh, not drawing blood but a warning: ‘I know, just give me a moment,’ it said.

The cat continued sniffing before it slowly opened its mouth, taking a small, hesitant bite, swallowing after a moment.

Godric turned back to the street, continuing to walk, “Good?” he asked interestedly.

The cat pawed at his arm, and Godric restrained a smile as he brought the pastry back for the cat to take another bite.

“You know cats don’t typically eat pastries,” he felt the need to point out.

The cat growled, ‘This one does,’ it said before taking another bite, and then a soft purr began to rumble through its chest, traveling into Godric’s own.

They walked together for a while longer, the cat nibbling at the pastry as they did so, before it seemed to have had enough, licking its lips of red fruit and sugar.

‘Thank you,’ it said, ‘you didn’t have to do that,’ it finished.

Godric shrugged, wrapping the pastry once more in the napkin and slipping it into his pouch.

The cat’s tail stopped twitching and curled around Godric’s neck. ‘Another White Mage could name me,’ it pointed out softly.

Godric grimaced to himself, thankful for the moment that most people already avoided him as he stepped onto the circle, and the world rippled blue for a moment till it resolved into the familiar Northern section of Haven

Godric stepped off the circle, ignoring the small circle of empty space he seemed to generate as he moved through the crowd, grateful for the moment that it gave him the opportunity to talk still, “I told you it doesn’t work unless you accept it,” he replied.

The cat was silent for a long while, either contemplating his words or ignoring them entirely.

They turned a corner, and before them, in gleaming marble stone, the Northern Temple stood guard, a towering construction of white marble stone walls covered in crawling green ivy, two white cloaked people standing in front, one a human man with dark black hair and hazel eyes and the other a firstborn woman the typical silver hair and pale eyes staring ahead like statues, their white cloaks resided on their shoulders marred by a few golden stripes.

Their eyes landed on him, and Godric noted only him, paying no mind to the beast on his shoulder. The human man visibly flinched, his eyes averting, while the firstborn woman smiled a soft smile and crossed an arm across her chest to hold her heart. “Godric Lux,” she said quietly, an almost reverent tone to her voice.

Godric tried to keep his expression neutral; the hatred and animosity were one thing from the rest of Haven, but other Firstborn’s reactions were…

“Lieutenant,” Godric said neutrally, glancing at her cloak then at the human, “Private,” he said in the same tone, and then walked past them.

It was actually a little strange his Circle’s Head Mage Deir’s own lack of deference comparatively, though, given the fact she had engineered a competition that basically guaranteed him as her second; he was pretty sure he knew her game.

Firstborn were usually deferent to him because of who his Father was: but in an uncomfortable way, their eyes did not see him any more than the other citizens of Haven. His assumption currently was that Deir perhaps wanted to advance her place as a Temple Knight.

Though perhaps not; he wasn’t sure how his Father would expect him to go about making a desire like that come true.

Entering the Temple, he slightly untensed from his usual readiness as he walked among the Temple Knights who moved about on hurried missions.

His relaxation was the opposite of his companion's, who seemed to tense up even more, their tail curling tightly around his neck and their ears flicking about, their head swiveling.

Godric stepped into the cooler shade of the Temple before he took a pair of stairs up a couple of levels till he came out on top of one of the shorter towers that overlooked the rest of Haven.

Walking up to the side of white stone, he idly crossed his arms and rested them, staring out over Haven.

“Great view, huh?” he said conversationally to the cat, who had not left his shoulder, it’s tail swishing about as it looked around, maybe a bit less tense, which he assumed had something to do with the fact they were no longer surrounded by visible Temple Knights.

‘You really want to join the Temple Knights, huh?’ Godric raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the cat who was looking past him on his shoulder; he hadn’t mentioned such at all to the cat; in fact, truth be told, he didn’t think he had told anyone aside from his Father.

Not that anyone aside from his Father would have listened.

“Yeah,” he said, the words quiet, unlike him, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

‘Why?’ the cat asked, and Godric frowned in confusion, realizing it wasn’t a question he had ever been asked.

“I mean I’m expected to,” Godric pointed out, thinking for a moment, “Dad’s the Commander of them; if his own son didn’t serve, there’d be some issues.”

The cat didn’t respond, its tail twitching softly against his neck.

Godric hummed, thinking, “But I think I’d be one anyway.” he shook his head, thinking even deeper with a frown, words spilling lightly out of his mouth, “If only so I could change things, when I was a kid, and I found out I was a Sin, I looked them up in our histories. Most people who have Sins sealed in them end up in the bottom cells of the Southern Mountain or on a battlefield, I-“ Godric hesitated and glanced around, focusing on his senses just a moment for confirmation before he continued, “It’s wrong,” he said quietly, “And not just to the people but to the Sins, I mean they’re still sentient and they’re imprisoned until the seal slowly dissolves them,” Godric took a deep cautious breath his gut turning unusually, “I’m actually lucky, if my Dad wasn’t who he was I’d have it a lot worse. So-” he shot the cat next to him a small smile, “I figure when I become a Temple Knight I do what I can to free them, then maybe-“ Godric hesitated before he finished quietly, “once people see Sinbearers other than me, they’ll know we’re not all that dangerous.”

His words hung in the air, and Godric felt his stomach continuing to turn, unsure of why he had said all those words. It could have been a truth spell from the demon, but he hadn’t felt anything like that, so probably it was just the more pathetic reason.

No one had ever asked him this, and once he started talking, it just all came out.

“That was a mouthful,” Godric chuckled, shaking his head, smiling easily, “You can probably forget most of it.”

The cat sat on his shoulder for a long minute, staring out past him. ‘I want to tell you what I am now,’ it said quietly.

Godric waited, turning his head to look up at the cat’s head, which was now staring out over the Temple.

‘I’m a Sin,’ the cat said.

Godric waited, thinking over the cat’s not unexpected words. “And?” he finally asked, and a longer silence stretched out around them.

‘I’m your Sin,’ the cat said.

Godric blinked, shaking his head in thought. “You’re telling me you’re the Sin my Father sealed inside me?” he asked, his mind surprisingly peaceful at the news; strangely enough, it was almost like he expected.

‘Yes,’ the cat said.

Godric chewed this lip thoughtfully. “You going to try and kill me?” he asked curiously.

The cat bristled, glaring at Godric. ‘No! I would never! Please, you need to understand that-‘

Godric held a hand up, and the cat stopped. “You don’t need to defend yourself; I would understand, to be clear. I don’t know what I would have done to the person who kept me imprisoned for seventeen years. You would be justified.”

‘It was not your choice anymore than mine!’ the cat snarled.

Godric blinked a couple times, caught off guard; he didn’t know what to do with that.

“So why are you talking to me now?” he asked, “You haven’t done so before.”

The cat sighed, slumping a bit, ‘Your seal’s been too strong before; but something happened recently that allowed me to be able to manifest.’

“You say that like you don’t know what it was?” Godric asked, now surprised.

The cat shrugged, ‘All of the magics at my disposal give me no real answer.’

“I did join a Circle recently,” Godric shook his head, thinking before shaking his head, “But I’m pretty sure they haven’t cast any magics that would do something. Only White Magic can interact with Seals regardless.”

The cat dipped its head seemingly in thought, ‘Did you do something with White Magic?’ the cat asked curiously.

Godric sighed and grimaced a bit, “I can only work Barrier spells,” he admitted quietly, “I know the mechanics of all the other white magic; I mean, I never failed a magic theory test behind them at least, but I can’t cast them.”

The cat visibly hesitated, ‘Do you think it’s because of me?’

“I don’t know,” Godric said quietly, “It doesn’t really make sense. I know I have enough magic to cast barrier, and that’s actually a fairly intensive spell. My patterns are correct, my spell words are accurate, I just-“ he shrugged almost helplessly, “My dad said it’s because a large amount of my White Magic is being used on my seal-“ Godric consciously stopped himself.

‘You don’t believe him, do you?’ the cat asked.

Godric shook his head almost mutely, “It doesn’t make sense,” he said quietly, “I’ve read all the theory, and I’ve felt my channels in meditation, I’m sure I have enough White Magic, I never run out of energy for Barrier and I can shape it better than anyone.”

Godric released a breath before shrugging, “But I mean maybe he’s right. There’s obviously something wrong with me.”

A paw batted against his head; the cat hissed, ‘There’s nothing wrong with you,’ it said, almost affronted.

Godric raised an eyebrow, then deciding to ignore the statement continued, “So you’re saying it actually is because of you?” he asked.

The cat’s eyes flicked away. ‘In a way it is,’ then they flicked back, ‘And in the same way it’s not.’ The cat’s eyes flicked away again.

Godric chuckled, shaking his head. “Mysterious,’ he remarked, staring out onto Haven.

The Cat scoffed, sounding offended in his mind, ‘You won’t believe what your actual issue is,’ it said.

Godric waited, having gotten a sense of what the cat was like.

‘Fine,’ the cat said, still sounding aggravated, ‘Your issue is that you don’t trust a single person in the Seven Worlds,’ it said.

Godric smiled a bit reflexively, thinking over the Cat’s words, “I’ve read the basis of White Magic healing was based on trusting the other person with your strength,” he said thoughtfully, “I didn’t quite think it was literal.”

‘It is,’ the Cat said seriously, ‘If you don’t trust anyone, of course you won’t be able to cast White Magic.’

Godric nodded his head thoughtfully before he replied with the only two words he could think of, “Well Fuck.”

A long couple of moments passed as they resided together on top of the Temple.

Godric spoke almost hesitantly, “I don’t know how to fix that,” he replied quietly.

The cat sighed and shook its head, ‘You don’t think your Father did that on purpose?’ it asked.

Godric shrugged, “I mean, does it matter?” he said, attempting to push the cat’s words away. “He did it by accident; he did it on purpose; still need to deal with it.”

The cat whapped him lightly across the back of his head with a paw, ‘Of course it matters! You’re willing to let it go that your own Father did that to you?’

Godric shook his head, “If he did it on purpose, it was for a reason; he always does stuff for reasons,” the words didn’t sound right even to him, and so he tried to finish them stronger, “even if I don’t understand them.”

The cat was silent, sitting on his shoulder, neither confirming nor denying his words.