Page 14 of Her Guardian Demon

"Theoretically," I reply, noting her interest. "But the consequences can be... unpredictable. Time has a way of resisting change."

As we're examining "The Frostfire Codex," a treatise on combining the destructive powers of ice and flame, a commotion outside catches my attention. My senses, honed over centuries, pick up the telltale signs of an impending attack.

"Aria," I say sharply, "stay close to me."

No sooner have the words left my mouth than the shop's windows explode inward. Shadowy figures pour through, their blades gleaming with a sickly green light. Assassins, and skilled ones at that.

I react instantly, shadows coalescing around my hands into razor-sharp claws. The first assassin to reach me falls in pieces, his scream cut short.

To my surprise and satisfaction, Aria doesn't freeze. The vials of nightmare essence are in her hands in an instant, and she hurls their contents at the nearest attacker. The liquid transforms mid-air into a cloud of terrifying illusions. The assassin stumbles, slashing wildly at phantoms only he can see.

In the midst of the carnage, I feel a surge of... something. Pride? Exhilaration? The simple joy of a teacher watching a star pupil excel? Whatever it is, it's as intoxicating as the finest faerie wine.

As the last assassin falls - really, they should have sent more if they wanted to make this interesting - Aria and I find ourselves face to face. There's a wild light in her eyes, a flush to her cheeks. She's spattered with blood, some hers but mostly not, and she's never looked more radiant.

Without thinking, I reach out, cupping her face in my hand. "You were magnificent," I murmur, as if complimenting her on a particularly well-executed spell in class.

For a moment, we stand there, connected by something deeper than mentor and student, predator and prey. I see a reflection of my own darkness in her eyes, and it's... delightful.

I step back, smoothing my slightly rumpled attire. "Well, that was invigorating," I say, my tone as casual as if we'd just finished a brisk walk. "Though I do believe we've made a bit of a mess. Terribly rude of us."

I retrieve the book we came for, pausing to straighten a fallen display. "Now then," I continue, approaching the wide-eyed Umbra, "I believe this should cover the damages and any inconvenience." I place a small pouch of gold on the counter, its weight suggesting a sum far beyond mere repairs.

"Shall we continue our outing?" I ask Aria, offering my arm as if we were simply strolling through a garden. "I know a delightful little place that serves the most exquisite shadow-infused tea. Perfect after a spot of impromptu combat, don't you think?"

9

ARIA

My heart is still racing from the assassin attack as Kieran leads me deeper into Nightmarket. We have the aforementioned shadow-infused tea, and I can’t help but to feel like I’m further and further past the point of no return.

The adrenaline coursing through my veins makes everything seem sharper, more vivid.

Or maybe it's the dark magic I've been exposed to.

Either way, I feel... alive. Terrifyingly so.

"Where to next?" I ask, surprised by the eagerness in my voice.

Kieran's smile is both thrilling and unnerving. "I believe it's time to outfit you properly, my dear. Follow me."

We approach a shop that seems to be made entirely of living shadow. The sign above the door shifts and writhes, eventually settling into the words "Shadowsmith's Forge."

Inside, the air is cool and thick, laden with the scent of night-blooming flowers and ancient magic. The proprietor, a tall and lithe fae with skin like polished obsidian and eyes that glitter like starlight, greets us with a graceful bow.

"My lord," he says in a voice that sounds like wind whispering through autumn leaves. "How may we serve you on this fine twilight?"

Kieran gestures to me. "My apprentice requires proper attire. Something... versatile."

The shadowsmith's eyes light up, quite literally, small constellations dancing in their depths. He glides away with otherworldly grace, his long fingers trailing wisps of shadow. He returns moments later, cradling what appears to be a cloak made of pure darkness.

"Try it on," Kieran urges, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

As I fasten the cloak around my shoulders, I gasp. It's like being embraced by the night itself, cool and comforting. I can feel it responding to my thoughts, shifting and changing as if alive.

"Think of blending in," Kieran instructs, his eyes gleaming with interest.

I concentrate, and suddenly, I can barely see myself. The cloak has transformed, seeming to bend light around me, turning me into a living shadow.

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