Page 11 of Her Guardian Demon

"Class dismissed," I announce. "Aria, come with me. We have much to discuss."

As we leave the stunned classroom behind, I find myself in unfamiliar territory. For the first time in centuries, I'm uncertain about the path ahead. Aria was supposed to be a tool, a means to an end. But now...

I glance at her as we walk, noting the new strength in her stride, the subtle glow of power around her. She catches me looking and offers a small, wicked smile.

7

ARIA

Ilie on my bed, staring at the ceiling of my dormitory room, feeling utterly drained. Kieran's "remedial lessons" have left me a hollow shell, the surge of power I experienced now nothing but a fading memory. My body aches, and my mind feels stretched beyond its limits, snapping back into a shape that doesn't quite fit my head anymore.

The horrors of my studies linger at the edges of my consciousness. Every time I close my eyes, I see flashes of that endless, putrid swamp, feel the tendrils of muck trying to drag me under. The faces beneath the surface, contorted in agony or malicious glee haunting me. I force my eyes open, fighting against the exhaustion that threatens to pull me back into those dark memories.

But mixed with the terror is something else. A sense of... accomplishment? Pride? I survived. More than that, I overcame. I faced my deepest fears and emerged victorious. The memory of that surge of power, of bending reality itself to my will, is intoxicating.

And terrifying.

What am I becoming? The girl who stepped through that portal into Ravencrest feels like a stranger now. I flex my fingers, half expecting to see shadows dance across my skin. Nothing happens, of course. Whatever power I tapped into during Kieran's test seems to have retreated, leaving me feeling more vulnerable than ever.

My brooding is by a sharp rap at the door. Before either of us can respond, it swings open, revealing one of Kieran's shadow servants. Its form ripples and shifts, never quite settling on a definite shape.

"Miss Aria," it says in a voice like rustling leaves, "Lord Kieran requests your presence. You are to accompany him to Nightmarket. Prepare yourself and meet him at the gates in one hour."

With that, it dissolves into wisps of shadow.

"Nightmarket?" I whisper, a mix of fear and excitement bubbling up in my chest.

As I prepare, my mind races with possibilities.Why is Kieran taking me there? Is this a reward for surviving his test, or just another, more elaborate trial? And why do I feel equal parts terrified and thrilled at the prospect?

An hour later, I stand at the gates of Ravencrest, my heart pounding. I've done my best to make myself presentable, but I still feel disheveled and out of place. When Kieran appears, gliding out of the shadows as if born from them, I have to resist the urge to shrink back.

"Ah, Aria," he says, his voice smooth as silk. "Ready for a little excursion?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. With a wave of his hand, the gates swing open, revealing a path I've never seen before. It winds down the mountain, disappearing into a bank of swirling mist.

As we descend, the mist parts, revealing our destination. My breath catches in my throat.

Nightmarket sprawls before us, a twisted fairytale come to life. Impossible architecture stretches towards the star-studded sky – spires that spiral in defiance of gravity, buildings that seem to breathe, streets that shift and change as I watch. Lights of every color imaginable dance through the air, some following discernible paths, others moving with chaotic abandon.

The sounds and smells hit me next – a cacophony of music and voices in languages I've never heard, scents that range from mouth-wateringly delicious to stomach-churningly foul.

"Welcome," Kieran says, a note of pride in his voice, "to Nightmarket."

As we step into the town proper, I'm overwhelmed by the sheer sensory overload. Creatures of every description throng the streets – beautiful and terrible, mundane and utterly alien. A group of pixies, their wings glittering like stained glass, flit past us giggling. A lumbering ogre haggles with a merchant whose body seems to be made entirely of clockwork.

I stick close to Kieran, acutely aware of the looks we're attracting. Some are curious, others hostile, and more than a few predatory.

"Stay close," Kieran murmurs, placing a hand on the small of my back. The touch sends a shiver through me – fear or excitement, I'm not sure which. Maybe both.

As we make our way deeper into Nightmarket, I'm torn between the urge to flee back to the relative safety of Ravencrest and the desire to explore every nook and cranny of this fascinating, terrifying place.

"Where are we going?" I manage to ask, my voice barely audible over the bustling market sounds.

Kieran's smile is enigmatic, with just a hint of fang. "To reward you, my dear. You've earned it."

As we turn down a darker, quieter alley, anticipation and dread war within me.What kind of reward does a being like Kieran consider appropriate? And more importantly, what will be the price?

"Well, well, well," a voice chimes, making me jump. "What have we here? A little mortal and Sir Gravewood! How delightful!"

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