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When Evan returned home that evening from Aliza Simone’s exorcism, he’d barely set foot into his room when a glimpse of white fur startled him. As he peeked inside his bedroom, his shock deepened when he found his “abducted” dog sitting perched near his bed, tongue lolling out a side of his smiling mouth. Misty sat poised at the edge of the bed, forelimbs crossed in an elegant manner as she glanced at Evan.

The trio stared at one another in turn, then Evan lunged towards the dog with a muffled grunt.

Thank fucking God.

He hadn’t thought he’d see him again. He’d almost convinced himself to erect a small wooden plate in his backyard as a memorial for the dog he had for approximately one evening.

Relief and aggressive affection drove him crazy for a moment as he squeezed the dog in his embrace, and the dog licked any patch of Evan’s skin he could find. Seeing them rolling on the ground happily, Misty blinked at them before joining in on their fun.

It was the exact definition of happy family in Evan’s dictionary.

The next day, Evan shouldered his new parental responsibilities and decided to take his pup on a stroll. He crafted a makeshift collar from his belt, and the dog jumped in excitement as he put it around his neck. Evan pulled on a pair of black shorts and a black hoodie before hopping out with his dog on his tail.

The main town was a little over a mile from his house, and there was nothing but scattered vegetation and greenery lining the path. No neighbors or shops or people. Just the distant breeze of Del blowing as they trudged the narrow, dry trail leading to town.

Glancing at the white fur ball skipping beside him, Evan thought out loud, “What should we name you, buddy?”

It wasn’t like he’d not thought about a name at all. In fact, Evan had come up with several, yet none of them pleased him when he tried calling them out loud. He wasn’t very fond of people, so giving the dog a human-ish name made Evan a bit uncomfortable. Still, he didn’t want to name him something that might make the dog uncomfortable.

There had to be some middle ground.

Naming Misty wasn’t very difficult. The day he’d found her as a kitten, curled under a bush in his backyard, she’d been drenched in morning mist, shivering and ice cold. And when he’d picked her up, a silver drop of mist had rolled from atop her head and into her big golden eyes. The moment she innocently blinked the moisture away and looked up at Evan, he had blurted out “Misty” as if compelled by her beauty.

That day Evan had discovered a hole in his armor.

Adorable things were his weakness.

But if the same logic of naming was applied to his new pet, he’d have to name the dog “Muddy” or “Dusty,” because that’s what he’d been splattered with when Evan had found him.

“Hm. Guess you’ll have to do with “Buddy” for the time being, until I find something to name you after,” Evan said, bending down to scratch behind his buddy’s floppy ears.

Huffing happily, the dog shook off his fur, enjoying his pretty privileges. Until suddenly, his attention was diverted.

His curled ears perked upright, and with a jerk of his hind legs, he bolted straight forward.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Evan called out, thinking he would run and come skipping back, but when the dog’s retrieving figure didn’t seem to slow down, he rushed behind it. “Buddy, wait. Come back!”

Within the next few minutes, Evan reached an important milestone in his pet parent journey called What It’s Like Being a Dog Dad.

Sweat dripped down his nape as Evan chased behind his pet, never leaving sight of the white fur, yet somehow, he was so fast that Evan couldn’t keep up—being out of shape as he was—and the dog vanished.

Panting and huffing his way around the area, Evan called out to his buddy, peeking behind trees and rummaging through bushes, but couldn’t even spot his pawprints in the dirt.

I should have made a leash to go with that collar.

What had the dog seen that made him break into a sprint suddenly, or was that just how dogs were?

Scratching his head, Evan continued calling out to his buddy as he approached the riverbank. On one side of the dry trail were trees lining the route to town, and on the opposite side, the sacred Del flowed tranquilly. A breeze blew across him and dried a bead of sweat trickling down his nape, making Evan shiver involuntarily.

The Del flowed through Emberlyn in many forms. Cold streams winding deep through the forest, a gushing river under the main bridge connecting the town to the outside world, and this quiet riverbank that stretched around half the Emberlyn like a crescent.

Evan had chosen to live close to the Del and away from the bustle of the town for his own peace of mind. And although the view was beautiful, ever since he’d moved there, the number of people coming to stroll by the river, or to lay down blankets for a family picnic, or to simply sit and watch the sunset, had steadily dwindled.

Day after day, Evan watched people turn away, whispering about the exorcist who’d taken residence nearby. Over the years, it had reached a point where no one came that way anymore, not if they could help it.

In their defense, wandering in an area close to an exorcist’s house was superstitiously a bad omen.

So, it was more surprising when Evan rounded a tree and found a flash of a white shirt standing at the edge of the concrete gabion built around the riverbank, a mere inch away from slipping to his death.

Evan halted in his tracks.

The youth stood with his eyes closed, a look of immense serenity clouding his features as his soft silver hair blew rhythmically with Del’s currents. In a simple white shirt and pants that looked a size bigger on his slender figure, he gave off the impression of a runaway youth who was just realizing how big the world truly was.

Evan stared at him suspiciously for more than a few reasons.

First, people were scarce around this area. Second, he had never seen that face—a damn gorgeous face at that—before. And third, Evan’s dog was presently pressing close to that youth’s leg like they were long-lost cousins.

Upon finally laying eyes on his dog, relief flooded Evan. He jogged towards the two silver heads. He was just about to call out to his dog when he heard a gentle voice, rubbing like softened butter against his eardrums.

“He seemed lost,” the youth said, still facing the river with his eyes closed. “So I kept him company.”

Evan’s brows arched.

How did he know someone was behind him? Even if he’d heard footsteps, how did he know it was the owner of the dog?

“Thanks…” Evan said, studying the youth’s form. There was no malice or evil radiating from his aura, just sheer tranquility. Subtly trying to quench his curiosity, which usually never surfaced, Evan said, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

At that, the youth finally turned. Pale, smooth skin and crystal blue eyes the shade of summer sky greeted Evan. Was that his natural hair color? Even his eyebrows and eyelashes were silverish white. Such beauty couldn’t be all God-given, because if it was, that would be unfair to the average masses, and Evan had some words to exchange with the heavenly creator.

“Don’t worry about it,” the youth said, a smile blooming on his lips as he strolled down the slope of the concrete gabion towards Evan. “I’ve always lived here. Just never left home.”

So, he really had fled his house. Or was he just spitting bullshit?

Evan’s suspicious eyes snapped down when he felt soft fur brushing against his calf. He pressed his lips in a thin line. “Hey, why’d you run off like that? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

The dog wiggled his bushy tail, staring up at Evan with his mouth wide open and eyes gleaming. Evan couldn’t keep his frown intact and melted with a sigh before crouching to hug his buddy. “Don’t you dare scare me like that again. If you wanna play, we’ll play together.”

The youth, who’d been watching the scene play out with a smile all along, let out a chuckle. “He is adorable. Does he have a name?”

Evan paused mid-embrace, glancing up. “Uh…not yet.”

“Are you having a difficult time picking a name?”

“Kind of,” Evan continued scratching the dog’s neck, receiving wet nose boops and full-face licks in return as he contemplated a question lingering at the tip of his tongue.

This person was a stranger. If he really did live around and had run away from home, he’d either go back or move far away, so Evan might never run into him again. Asking him should be fine, right?

Clearing his throat twice, Evan casually tossed out, “Do you have any suggestions? For his name, I mean.”

The youth’s smile widened as his crystal blue gaze flickered to the dog. “Rue.”

Evan stared at him, surprised by the quick response, then followed his gaze towards the dog, muttering, “Rue…”

That was not bad. No, that was actually pretty good. It didn’t sound like any human he’d ever met.

Evan’s lips twitched as he cupped the overexcited dog’s head and said, “Rue, do you copy?”

On cue, the dog’s head snapped towards him before attacking him with another round of furious kisses.

Okay, he likes it.

Pleased with the unexpected turn of events, Evan stood up with a much more suitable expression on his face as he turned to the youth. “Thank you. He seems to like that name.”

“I’m happy to help,” the youth smiled.

After a brief, awkward silence, Evan asked. “So, are you gonna head back home or…?”

“I think I might stay a while,” A wind blew past them, ruffling his silver hair in a gentle caress as the youth watched his surroundings, completely mesmerized. “It’s rather pheasant outside.”

Evan blinked. Then blinked some more before clearing his throat.

Pheasant?

Had the fellow said it wrong or had Evan heard him wrong?

That couldn’t be. When it came to his five senses, Evan could never be mistaken. He could even hear the sound of fish gliding soundlessly under the surface of the river beside them.

Unsure whether to mention it or not, Evan casually snuck his dilemma into their conversation. “Yeah, quite pleasant .”

But the youth didn’t seem to have noticed his slip of the tongue, nor Evan’s correction, as he nodded in agreement. Despite the subtle weirdness and unearthly looks, Evan found him rather agreeable—which didn’t happen often.

As Rue skipped around in the dry grass, chasing butterflies, Evan found himself becoming more curious about the youth. There was this faint feeling of familiarity between them, although they’d never met before.

Also, probably because he’d been lingering near the water for too long, but he smelled like the river, a scent that Evan found comforting.

“I didn’t quite catch your name,” Evan said, attempting his best at small talk—a knowledge bestowed upon him by the God of Blabbers, Aaron.

The youth was a few inches shorter than Evan, so when he looked up at him, it was a rather adorable sight. All silver hair and big eyes. It reminded Evan of Rue.

“I’m Delos,” the youth smiled, extending a hand.

“Evan Blackwood,” as they shook hands, Evan briefly paused before pulling away.

“Pleased to meet you, Evan.”

There was a strange stillness in the youth’s expressions. As if that gentle look had frozen over in his face, looking almost mechanical. Although he looked closer to Evan in age, his tone resembled that of an elder addressing a kid.

And something even stranger was the smooth palm of his hand that Evan had just felt. The palm lines were…unnatural. As if a child had drawn them on his hand idly.

Rue ran towards Delos and pressed his muddy nose against his pants, smearing dirt across the pristine white fabric. Evan’s eyes widened in slight panic, but the other guy didn’t seem to mind at all as he crouched to pet Rue’s head lovingly.

“You were waiting for him, weren’t you? You must be exhausted,” Delos said to Rue, as if speaking to a fellow human. “Rest easy now. You’ve found your human.”

Evan’s lips twitched.

Just how long had this prince been locked up in his tower to speak like that? He sounded like he’d escaped from a Jane Austen novel.

After exchanging a few more words, Evan bid his new acquaintance farewell. “Thank you again for looking after my dog. We gotta head back now. Good day.”

Delos nodded, bearing the same serene expression, “You too.”

As Evan and Rue disappeared into the distance, the youth was still staring at their backs before lowering his eyes with a smile. “See you around, Evan.”

There were a few places in Emberlyn that were considered off-limits and strictly forbidden by locals. These places included the Dark Woods, the Old Temple ruins, and sometimes Evan’s residence.

Evan had trespassed into almost all of those places. Yet, the only place he positively avoided was the town’s old library.

Although it wasn’t exactly forbidden, no one really visited it other than a few elders who sought a moment of quiet away from the bustling streets. The building had an ancient air about it, with bare brick walls covered in vines and wooden windows that creaked in the wind at night. Most of the books inside were stored away in old cupboards with shaky legs, buried in dust. Sometimes a rotten stench would waft from the agape windows and into the streets—like a whole colony of rats had been mass slaughtered inside—making the people outside scrunch their faces in distaste. No sane person would willingly visit such a place.

Evan, however, had a different reason for not entering the town’s library, despite having a reputation for appearing everywhere he shouldn’t.

He hated anything that reminded him of studies or his time in school as a kid.

Being different as he was with his “gifts” from his ancestors, Evan would always repel other children by the things he would innocently say or by the way a dim blue spark would flutter past his eyes. It was involuntary, but the more he tried to desperately explain to his friends how he was normal, the more abnormal he turned in their eyes.

After a few years, even if some dim-witted kid did decide to stay with him despite his “exceptionality," Evan readily pushed them away too, because there was only one thing he despised more than the smell of leather: the look of pity directed towards him.

Rather than suffocating under people’s sympathy, he chose to enjoy solidarity to its fullest. And yet sometimes, unwillingly, his mind would revert back to the days of his childhood that he spent alone and dejected, to the times his mother cajoled him into distractions, keeping him from withering under self-sabotage.

But in the fragile heart of that outcasted child, instead of sadness, a deep-rooted hatred took birth. And with no particular individual to direct this bitterness towards, Evan chose to hate anything that reminded him of that phase of his life.

The town’s library, for example, was filled with books and paintings left behind by the last generation of kids who lit up its corners. Walls marred with untidy scribbles and crayon stick figures. There was no doubt this place used to be a hideout for naughty friend groups and teen lovers.

Those were things Evan had never experienced, and that fueled his resilience to never set foot in the town’s old library.

But now his streak had come to an end as Evan stepped inside the dusty construction, scrunching his nose as he clutched the leather-bound book in his hand. It was the one Rhea had given him.

Two weeks later, he had finally found time to read it.

With the unpredictability of his profession, it was impossible to tell when or what kind of case would be thrown in his face. One month, he was struggling to get by on whatever crumbs he could gather from small exorcisms, and the next, he was dealing with three cases per day with hefty earnings—most of it snuffed out by the debt collectors.

Presently, the dark rings under his eyes suggested it was one of those latter months.

To top off the sweetness, there was a wandering demon who enjoyed popping into his room in the middle of the night or at the break of dawn to play with Rue—or watch Evan sleep. The poor dog, not knowing he was licking the hand of a beast, would enjoy snuggling into his red robes while Xen smiled softly at a fuming Evan sitting upright on his bed.

Evan spent several nights like that, wide awake, repulsed by the thought of Xen watching him sleep, then dragged himself to solve other people’s problems during the day. Every time he opened the book to skim through the contents, the damned demon would show up. It was as if he didn’t want Evan to read it. He feared Xen might burn the book someday and Rhea might skin Evan alive to carve a new book out of him. Not wanting to take the chance, he had decided to take himself and the book someplace else.

It was ridiculous. Sneaking out of his own house because of a perverse lunatic.

Evan frowned upon his surroundings as he surveyed the library. The high ceilings were barely visible from under the jam-packed network of cobwebs. Benches were missing legs, and chairs were missing backrests. Bugs were scattered like Christmas decorations across corners, and a faint rotten stench lingered behind cupboards that were stacked with books.

It wasn’t as bad as Evan had thought. It was worse.

Out of curiosity, Evan nudged open the nearest wooden cupboard with his pinky, readying himself for half-rotten book covers and mice running along the shelves. But to his surprise, a neatly stacked row of clean spines greeted him. No stench. No rodents. Even the shelves were spotless.

Someone had cleaned the place. But only the books. Shutting that door, he opened a few other cupboards and was met with the same sight.

I mean, books are the main component of a library, but investing a little energy in the surroundings wouldn’t hurt much.

Said the wise man, who never took his trash out for months.

As he wandered inside, Evan found a tall, oval glass window with a concrete sill that could easily fit five to six people. The space looked like it had been used recently, with its dust-free sitting area and squeaky-clean windowpanes.

Taking a seat, Evan pushed open the window, and a gentle breeze blew in.

The ever-present gloomy clouds peered over the town as pedestrians strolled down the street and children jollied their way towards the nearest park. Evan watched the merry atmosphere with a bored look before turning to the book in his hand.

“ Demons: The Deities from Hell ,” he read the title out loud, his voice echoing off the deserted library walls. “Deities? Seriously? No offense, but I have met a demon, and I can guarantee he is nothing close to the definition of a deity.”

He barely met the definition of a demon, much less something divine.

Scoffing, Evan flipped through the starting few blank papers before landing on a name scribbled at the edge of a page.

“Florence Michalis…” Evan muttered under his breath. Was that the author’s name?

Assuming it would be something like an encyclopedia, Evan flipped to the next page only to come across a neat handwritten note. When he checked through the following pages, Evan realized it wasn’t an encyclopedia at all.

The yellowing handmade pages were crammed with handwritten passages, diagrams, spells, and symbols.

It was a grimoire, dating back to the eighteenth century.

So, Florence Michalis was a witch? How had Rhea gotten her hands on a witch’s grimoire? Some elders of the town still considered such antiques “cursed” or a “source of evil." No wonder that section of Rhea’s shop was forbidden.

Focusing his attention back on the book, Evan started reading.

Florence Michalis was a woman who worked closely with creatures of the dark to gain knowledge about their realm. These creatures mostly included demons of different kinds.

Evan blew out a breath in part amusement and part disbelief. Working with demons? It was a surprise she lived long enough to write everything down.

But that was just the beginning of his shock.

Florence recorded every encounter she had with a demon, all the blood bonds she made, and what she paid in return for the knowledge gained from the demons. Sometimes it was a piece of her flesh, sometimes it was a few years of her life. More than a few times, they just plain fucked her. As long as the demons were talking and she was writing, they were simultaneously…fucking.

The mental image rendered Evan blinking at the library wall for a few minutes before he could refocus. Most of the things mentioned were details about the demon realm Evan was familiar with, except for a few.

Demons—creatures born out of overwhelming resentment or negativity festering in the hearts of the dead—were more common than one might expect. If the resentment exceeded the dead’s wish for peace, with enough malice to back it up, the soul could transform into a demon.

Based on their strength and origin, demons could be classified into three levels.

Low-level demons were often born in places where lives were unjustly lost—wars or accidents caused by human error. In such areas, resentment flowed in abundance, and all that saturated malice could give rise to a demon. Though low-level, these creatures were capable of wreaking havoc well on their own, Florence explained.

The second tier of demons, known as Hellguards , made up about a fourth of their entire population. These were low-level demons that earned a special rank in the hierarchy by either massacring hundreds of other low-level demons or vanquishing one deity of equal standing from the Upper Realm—the realm of Gods. Hellguards usually served as subordinates to the third and most formidable tier of demons.

Eternals , also known as the Abyssal Trinity, were the three kings of the Demon Realm.

The reason for their rarity and why they thrived over the rest was because, unlike the other demons, they weren’t born from resentment or malice from the human world. These demons were forged in the Dark Realm—Hell.

Once every thousand or so years, a third of the demonic population willingly cast themselves into Hellfire, their bodies perishing in the ancient flames. One hundred days later, consuming the demonic energy of all those demons, a single being would emerge from the depths of the Hellfire—an Eternal.