The trouble began—like most things involving Rhea—with good intentions and bad execution.
Specifically, her attempt to apologize to the classroom pet she nearly incinerated.
"I brought him grapes," Rhea said proudly, holding out a tiny vine-wrapped fruit platter to the twitchy class bunny named Sergeant Fluffnut. "Grapes are... peace offerings, right?"
"Rhea," I said gently, "he's a rabbit. He doesn't understand diplomacy."
"Then he's the perfect test subject."
The bunny took one look at her outstretched hand, remembered the bloodburst explosion she'd triggered the day before, and bolted under his cage with a squeaky whimper.
Rhea's ears drooped.
"I think he hates me."
That night, she was quieter than usual.
Which, for Rhea, meant she only used three exclamation marks per sentence.
She poked her vegetables. She didn't try to animate her soup. She even turned down bedtime battle reenactments.
"I'm... dangerous," she mumbled, curled on the edge of the bed. "I hurt things without meaning to. Maybe I'm still a monster."
I sat beside her and sighed. "You're not a monster, Rhea."
"I was one."
"You were a queen. Now you're a kid. That's a downgrade, not a curse."
"I don't want to hurt anyone again."
"You won't."
She looked up at me with big, uncertain eyes.
"You promise?"
"...As long as you promise to ask before doing shadow magic in school again."
I woke up to silence.
And Rhea's blanket curled in a neat little spiral on her pillow.
No girl. No sock puppet. No flaming trail of destruction.
Just... gone.
Panic hit fast and hard.
I searched the garden. The neighbors. The bakery.
No signs.
And then I saw it: a flicker of black flame on a bush at the forest's edge.
The woods near our town weren't just dangerous—they were cursed. Something old and broken slept there, corrupting creatures that wandered too close.
And Rhea, who was feeling guilty, fragile, and annoyingly brave, had gone in alone.
I didn't think. I ran.
Rhea, for her part, had come to the same conclusion I had roughly thirty seconds after stepping into the fog-drenched underbrush:
"This was a terrible idea."
It was wet. Cold. Too quiet. Even the shadows felt like they were watching her.
She stomped through the moss in her oversized boots, muttering to herself.
"I just needed air. Reflection. A brooding location. This is what people do when they feel emotions, right? Run into danger like idiots?"
Then the growl came.
Low. Hungry. Not animal. Not natural.
She turned—and saw three wolves creeping from the trees. Except... not normal wolves.
Their eyes glowed with purple light. Their fur shimmered like oil in water. Their teeth were too long. Their shadows moved wrong.
"Okay," Rhea whispered. "Definitely cursed wolves. Great. Fantastic."
One lunged.
Fire surged.
Dark, swirling, violet-black fire that burned hotter than sunlight and colder than rage. It exploded from Rhea's palm in a wave, incinerating bark and turning two of the beasts to ash mid-leap.
The third howled, turning to flee—only to catch a tendril of flame to the side and vanish with a hiss.
Silence.
Ash rained.
And in the center stood Rhea, hair wild, eyes burning, hands shaking.
She fell to her knees.
"I didn't mean to," she whispered.
But the clearing was empty.
No witnesses. No applause. No forgiveness.
Just scorched trees. A ruined grove.
And the knowledge that she'd done it again.
"I didn't want to hurt them..."
Her breath hitched.
"I just didn't want to die."
She curled into herself, the heat from her own magic licking at her clothes like guilt made real. Her little hands clenched the hem of her coat, and hot tears spilled down her face.
She didn't know how long she sat like that.
Long enough for the fire to fade. Long enough for the fear to harden into shame.
Then she heard footsteps.
And a voice, panting and furious.
"Rhea!"
She looked up.
And there he was.
Elias. Mud-splattered. Breathless. Pale.
He stumbled into the clearing and stared at the scorched ground, the burned trees, the girl at the center of it all.
"Oh," he muttered. "You blew up a forest again."
She tried to smile.
It didn't quite land.
He crossed the clearing and knelt in front of her.
"You okay?"
She nodded.
"Not hurt?"
Shaky nod.
"Then why are you crying, flamebrain?"
She hiccuped. "Because... I was scared."
He said nothing. Just pulled her into his arms and held her close.
"I didn't want to hurt them," she mumbled into his jacket. "They were going to hurt me, but... it happened again. The magic just came out. It was too much."
"You saved yourself," Elias said. "That's not wrong."
"But I still broke things."
"You're allowed to break things when you're scared. That's called being alive."
She cried harder.
Not the melodramatic, fire-and-brimstone crying she used when pretending to be Queen Revantra.
Real crying. Quiet. Small. Hurting.
And Elias just held her tighter.
"I'm sorry I ran," she whispered.
"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."
"I don't want to be scary."
"You're not."
"I set a boulder on fire."
"Okay, a little scary. But in a cool, tragic-hero way."
She sniffled. "Really?"
"Totally. Very anime."
He picked her up in his arms, cradling her like he used to when she was too exhausted from magic lessons to walk home.
She was heavier now. Older. But she still tucked against his shoulder like a puzzle piece.
"Promise me something," she murmured.
"Anything."
"If I ever become the Demon Queen again…"
He stiffened.
"Will you stop me?"
"No."
She blinked. "What?"
"I won't stop you. I'll stand beside you."
She stared at him.
"You're my flamebrain," he said. "You can rule. Or rebel. Or melt the planet. Just don't do it alone."
Her throat tightened. "You're really bad at heroic speeches."
He grinned. "Yeah. But you're stuck with me."
By the time they made it out of the forest, the fog had lifted.
The path home was long, muddy, and full of awkward silences—but Elias carried her the whole way.
When they finally reached the cottage, she sighed and whispered, "I still think Sergeant Fluffnut hates me."
"He's a coward," Elias muttered. "You can do better."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. A class wyvern?"
Rhea smiled, leaning against him as the front door opened.
"I love you," she said quietly.
Elias froze.
Then blinked.
Then coughed. "In the big-sister-or-maybe-small-queen kind of way?"
"...I don't know yet."
And with that, she yawned and passed out on his shoulder.
To be continued…