The sun had just begun to retreat behind the rolling hills when the bell tolled.
Not just any bell.
It was the Bell of Purity, a relic older than the town itself—mounted in a cathedral tower that hadn't chimed since the last Demon War, half a century ago. Its tone, crisp and impossibly clear, cut through the air like an accusation. The sound was light, almost delicate, but it struck something deep in the bones.
Elias dropped his fork. It landed in his soup with a tragic splash.
Across the table, Rhea blinked at him. She had a carrot impaled on her own fork and was dramatically pretending it was a nobleman about to be devoured by dragons. It was one of those evenings where peace had seemed... real. Almost.
Then came the chime. Then came the silence.
Then came the screaming.
The townspeople didn't take kindly to unexplained divine omens. A bell that was meant to detect dangerous magic or corrupted souls was not supposed to ring unless something really bad had happened. Like a demon awakening. Or a king falling. Or a child who used to rule the underworld reincarnating in your house and stealing your leftover pudding cups.
Elias groaned. "Why is it always us?"
Rhea didn't look confused. She looked... guilty.
"Um. Elias?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"I think... it rang because of me."
He stood up too fast and hit his knee on the underside of the table. "Ow. Okay, no big deal. No reason to panic. Could've been someone else entirely! Maybe Old Man Karlo finally died and his cursed dentures set it off."
But even as he said it, he knew.
The bell was still ringing. And it was getting louder.
A crowd had gathered near the cathedral. Priests in white robes were already chanting, trying to locate the source of impurity. The bell swung in the tower like it had a mind of its own—swaying to no visible wind. Glowing runes encircled its brass surface, ancient and judgmental.
And then the light of the bell's divine detection spell beamed downward... right toward the east district.
Toward Elias's cottage.
Toward her.
"I think I'm gonna throw up," Rhea muttered, hiding behind a barrel in a narrow alley while Elias peeked out toward the gathering uproar.
The light was moving now—sweeping like a lighthouse across the town. A literal divine scan. And Rhea, the source of the magic pulse, was now glowing faintly with red-black embers along her arms. Her emotions—fear, guilt, confusion—were leaking out as residual energy. The kind of dark magic that would make any holy artifact scream like a banshee in a wind tunnel.
"Okay, listen carefully," Elias said, crouching down to her level. "We just have to... hide your aura. Maybe think nice, fluffy thoughts? Puppies. Cupcakes. Not burning down cathedrals."
"I like cathedrals," Rhea mumbled.
"You blew one up in your last life!"
"One time!"
They froze. The divine light scanned over the alley for a moment. Then moved on.
Rhea exhaled. "I don't like this game."
"It's not a game."
"It's a very bad game."
She gripped his sleeve tightly, knuckles pale. Elias didn't push her hand away.
"I didn't mean for it to happen," she whispered. "I just... I saw the fireworks last night. I got happy. And when I'm happy, I loosen my seal. Just a little. I didn't think the bell would notice. I wanted to feel normal."
Elias looked at her—really looked at her.
A child's body. A demon queen's heart. And somewhere in the middle, a girl trying to find where she fit.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Rhea. You were happy. That's allowed."
"Not for someone like me."
He paused. "Especially for someone like you."
They snuck back through a side street, heading toward the school where the magic wards were stronger. If she could just step through the cleansing gate at the training field, it might mask her aura.
Or at least confuse the bell.
But as they approached the school fence, they found someone waiting.
Cleric Tovan.
Again.
The same uptight, permanently-displeased priest who had been sniffing around them ever since the first "accidental" lightning strike incident in class. He stood in front of the gate with a silver staff glowing faintly.
"The bell speaks," he said coldly. "And I have come to answer."
"Please tell me you're here to deliver bread," Elias said with a weak smile.
"I know it is her. The bell's purity sense does not lie."
Rhea stepped behind Elias.
Tovan raised the staff. "I can cleanse her. End this farce before it spreads."
Elias's hands clenched.
"Take another step," he said slowly, "and I'll show you what a farce really looks like."
Rhea tugged his shirt. "It's okay. Maybe... maybe he's right."
"No."
"But if I keep causing trouble—"
"No. You're not trouble. You're not a curse. You're just... different."
"But I hurt people."
"Because no one taught you how not to! That's on us, not on you."
Tovan's grip tightened on his staff. The holy light flared—
And Rhea took a step forward.
Her shadow stretched unnaturally across the ground, flickering like fire. Her eyes glowed faintly.
"I'm not afraid of you," she said.
And for a moment, the priest actually hesitated.
Elias stepped beside her.
"You're not alone," he said quietly.
The bell's ringing grew louder. The entire tower lit up.
And then—
Silence.
A second later, the bell cracked.
Just a faint line down its side, but it sent the entire square into chaos. Priests screamed. Townsfolk gasped. Someone fainted. The divine detection relic had malfunctioned—something not even recorded in the cathedral's holy records.
In the silence that followed, Elias turned to Rhea.
"You broke a holy relic."
"I didn't mean to!"
"You really didn't want to go back to school on Monday, huh?"
She giggled nervously.
And then the giggle turned to laughter.
They fled the scene before authorities could do more than shout, "Hey, stop them!" and "Did that child have horns?!"
Back at the cottage, Elias paced while Rhea curled up on the sofa with a very concerned-looking chicken plushie.
"So now what?" she asked. "Are we fugitives?"
"No," Elias said. "We're... pre-cleansed citizens with accidental divine artifact trauma."
"That's not a real thing."
"It is now."
She smiled.
And then her smile faded.
"Elias... do you think they'll come for me?"
He sat beside her.
"They might."
"What will you do?"
He didn't answer right away.
Then: "I'll stop them."
"Even if it's everyone?"
"Especially if it's everyone."
She leaned against him.
"You're a bad liar, Elias."
"I know."
"But I like it when you lie for me."
They sat in silence.
Outside, the sky was lit with the remnants of the festival—paper lanterns floating like quiet wishes. Inside, the warmth between them said what words didn't need to.
Rhea, a former queen. Elias, a former soldier. Neither whole. Neither safe. But for now...
Together.
To be continued…