The light sway of the car over the highway was gentle. Comfortable. The modern engine purred so quietly it seemed to hold its breath. Two people occupied the back seat: a man and a woman. Both wore white shirts and black ties.

  The man, younger, sat perfectly straight. His sweaty hands rested firmly on his thighs. Blonde hair neatly combed, scent immaculate, jacket buttoned to precision. He kept glancing nervously at the older woman beside him—who, by contrast, wore her own jacket like a cape, loosely hanging from her shoulders. She gazed with detached serenity through the window, her golden iris gleaming like a shard of trapped sunlight.

  The air conditioner exhaled a dry, barely audible breath. The reflection of the passing landscape fractured in the tinted glass, splintering like an old mirror.

  She cast no shadow upon the upholstery. The light itself seemed to refuse to touch her. Her skin reflected less than the leather seat.

  He couldn’t quite read her expression—was it calm, boredom, or simple indifference? Nor could he see her reflection: the woman had none. The tinted glass gave nothing back. That realization unsettled him deeply. A chill crawled up his spine, forcing him even straighter in his seat.

  “Theodore, right?”

  The boy jolted at the soft voice of his companion.

  “Y-Yes, Ma’am!” he stammered, straightening his tie and clearing his throat “Theodore Myers, Unit 5B!”

  He presented himself like a cadet before a general. The woman smiled, her gaze still fixed on the green fields sliding past the road.

  “That’s a lovely name, Myers,” she said with a quiet laugh—gentle, though attentive ears might have heard a warning hidden within it. “You’re the youngest in your squad, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am! I’m twenty-two!”

  She chuckled again, satisfied. Her tone carried a warmth that felt almost maternal, like a mother hearing her child’s first presentation at school.

  “There’s no need to be so tense. I’m not like the rest of the Grand Table.”

  At last, the short-haired white-haired woman turned toward him. Her single eye studied him with a calm that allowed no resistance. The boy avoided her gaze—perhaps out of respect, perhaps out of raw and pure fear.

  “How does a boy like you end up in the organization? Surely there were better options. Oh—pardon my curiosity,” she smiled, almost playfully. “I just like to talk while I travel. It’s pleasant. You hear such lovely stories when you have company.”

  The boy swallowed hard, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. The claustrophobic feeling grew with every second: the tight back seat, the perfumed scent of spotless rubber flooring, the immaculate black leather, and that woman’s presence filling the space like a shadow that wouldn’t stop watching him. He knew he should feel honored—but his gut kept insisting that fast promotions always came with a serious price.

  “Well, I–” he began, gathering some courage. “I studied at the Velkaris Academy for mages. When the war with the Republic of Soleria started, my family and I moved to Larion…”

  A brief silence. She leaned closer, unblinking, her golden eye burning like a command.

  “Go on,” she whispered, savoring it. “Don’t stop.”

  Theodore cleared his throat again. The memories hurt, and she drank them from her seat with eternal serenity.

  “We had a restaurant,” he said with a nostalgic smile, staring at his own hands, their edges still marked with burns from hot trays pulled from clay ovens. “My dad renamed it when I was born: Theo’s Pizzas. But… the war didn’t spare us. I lost all my friends, my home… we lost everything.”

  She sighed softly through her nose. Her gaze projected empathy, though inside she felt nothing—no pity, no sorrow.

  “We needed money. And fast. I–I was a very decent mage in my class. I used everything I knew to summon a portal and escape to the provinces near the border. But I couldn’t save them all…” His fists clenched until his knuckles went white. “After that, I cleaned floors in offices from the city until someone contacted me, and… well, here I am, haha…”

  He exhaled, the weight lifting off his chest. He’d never imagined confessing all that—and certainly not to someone like her.

  “You’ve been through quite a lot,” the woman said in a tempered tone. “It’s made you stronger. I can tell.”

  The compliment made him blush.

  “N-No, no!” he laughed awkwardly. “I’m not that strong! In my unit they call me Doorboy because they say all I can do is open portals, haha.” He sighed, smiling faintly. “Besides… my little sister and I got lucky. The rest of my friends—those who weren’t forced to fight… well, you already know…”

  “Yes,” she murmured, blinking once, as if punctuating the sentence. “Death.”

  The silence thickened. Theodore felt his stomach twist as the memories returned: the bombings, the hands reaching from the rubble, the blood mixed with dust, the weight of his unconscious sister in his arms as they ran from the whistling that ended in firestorms over the buildings.

  Only the low purr of the engine filled the space. The driver made no sound, no movement beyond what was necessary—like a tuxedoed skeleton, operating with mechanical precision.

  “Ma’am, I—”

  “Carmilla,” she interrupted gently, a faint smile forming. “No need to be so formal. Call me by my name. You have my permission.”

  The air seemed to chill.

  The boy repeated the name, and felt it drag shadow and frost behind it—like uttering a blood-soaked curse.

  “Carmilla,” he echoed. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but… why did you choose me for your expedition? You could’ve summoned my whole squad. I’m not nearly as skilled in combat as Hokart or Vyper.”

  She didn’t answer right away. She glanced at her wristwatch—or perhaps only pretended to—and then turned her eyes back to the horizon. The car kept its pace, devouring miles beneath a gray sky.

  The woman exhaled softly, a smile forming beneath her eyepatch. And Theodore, without realizing, had just opened a door that should have stayed shut.

  “How sweet of you to worry about me. I’ll admit—I love when strong women & men fight over me, when they try to protect me. It’s exciting. But today I wanted something different.” She leaned toward his ear, her breath cold—as if it didn’t come from a living body. “Something more personal. I like boys like you—quiet and polite.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Her voice was a thread that never trembled, that didn’t need warmth. A metallic perfume lingered in the air—sweet and venomous at once. Her perfectly painted nails brushed against his thigh, drawing an involuntary shiver from him.

  “You know,” she laughed with playful mischief, “if you keep behaving like that, you might earn a little reward before the final report.”

  Theodore, frozen between nerves and confusion, could only nod, forcing a trembling smile. The blush climbed his face like fire.

  ‘Gods, gods! I’ve never had luck with girls but… she’s like twice my age! And my boss! This is like one of Grandma’s soap operas, but better! Come on, come on—get a grip! Be a man! Remember what Mark would say!’

  He recalled his old classmate’s words—the eternal hunter of impossible loves: ‘The riper the fruit, the richer the taste!’

  The echo of that thought gave him courage to meet her eyes. Carmilla held his gaze—feline, patient. Her eyeliner perfect, lips full, her eye gleaming like a cursed jewel. One blink from her was enough to dismantle every trace of his composure. He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

  She smiled, satisfied, savoring his blush like cherry juice crushed between her teeth. Then she turned back to the landscape, content with her small victory.

  The following silence was almost warm. Theodore allowed himself to breathe normally again. He felt a bit more at ease with his superior, so he copied her and looked out the window at the endless fields beyond the glass. Larion stretched vast and gentle.

  “It’s beautiful,” he said softly. “Larion. It’s a beautiful kingdom.”

  “Yes…” she answered, barely moving her lips.

  He nodded, remembering the hospitality that had welcomed him and his family.

  “It’s like a children’s tale,” he continued. “Everything’s so modern, so clean. Since I arrived, I haven’t had a single problem. Well—except almost losing my luggage or missing the bus, haha. They’re pretty punctual with public transport; that’s rare.”

  Carmilla didn’t respond. Her gaze wandered across the fields as if admiring a painting in a silent museum.

  “Is that why you wanted to take the highway?” he asked. “We could’ve used the base’s portals—or mine, if you’d given me the exact coordinates. But I guess you like the view, right?”

  She nodded slowly before speaking.

  “Many, many centuries ago, there was a magnificent kingdom,” she said, her voice lowering to a dusky tone. “It was ruled by the first High Elves. The first race on earth to master magic completely. A utopia. The Larion of its age. But its name and its kings were erased by time. By foolish people, afraid history might repeat itself.”

  The air inside the car changed.

  Even the engine dared not interrupt her.

  Theodore listened, trapped by the cadence of her voice. He let her continue.

  “Isdran.”

  She pronounced it. The word fell like ancient dust from a forgotten library.

  “The last monarch was a man of unbreakable will. They called him the Hollow King—because that’s how he felt: empty. He shattered the balance once sworn between his ancestors and those of the other two Kings of Equilibrium. It was his hunger for euphoria that led him to massacre. He raised thousands of crosses, impaling his enemies—or anyone he pleased.”

  She lowered the window.

  Cold air slid into the cabin. With her fingers, Carmilla traced a cross toward the passing landscape.

  “It was in these same fields that he painted them red. Where crows and flies fed for generations on the children and wives of slaughtered men.”

  A gust swept through the vehicle, tossing her white hair as though the wind itself took orders.

  Theodore went pale. She looked at him with feigned tenderness before rolling the window back up.

  “Larion was built upon his grave,” she smiled. “That’s why I love this place so much. Of course, they’re just legends.”

  “Haha… yeah…Just…legends, right?” he laughed, trying to suppress the nausea that came with the mental image of crucified corpses and harpies gnawing on rotted flesh.

  The rest of the trip passed in silence. Carmilla kept her gaze fixed on the plains, still and almost absent. For the first time since his recruitment, Theodore wished the mission would end soon. He closed his eyes, letting the gentle sway of the vehicle carry him toward sleep.

  Darkness filled his mind completely. An hour later, a sweet voice called to him.

  “Theo~... wake up, Theo~”

  Between low groans, he opened his eyes. A blurry silhouette—his mother’s. He blinked, slow and heavy, until between each flutter the image sharpened into Carmilla, smiling as she toyed with a strand of his hair between her cold fingers.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead~”

  Theodore rubbed his eyes, squinting at the brightness streaming through the open door. “Where… where are we? How long was I out?”

  She didn’t answer, only gave him a half-smile before stepping out of the vehicle.

  The skeletal driver stood waiting beside the door, the one who had opened it for her. He remained motionless, awaiting his next command in dreadful silence.

  As Carmilla stepped down, she stretched her arms with a refreshing sigh. Her black coat never slipped from her shoulders—a cape that would not abandon its queen.

  “The forests of Freya,” she said, inhaling deeply to savor the resin-sweet scent of the maples that perfumed the air. She exhaled, opening her golden eye to admire the orange and yellow tapestry autumn had brushed across the trees. “I missed getting away from the offices. Come on, we still have ground to cover.”

  Theo climbed out of the car and froze when he saw the black flames burning atop the reanimated driver’s skull. The flaming cranium turned with him, its empty sockets tracking his every move. Once Theodore shut the door, the skeleton returned to the driver’s seat, waiting for their return. Far off, he could hear the roar of other vehicles speeding along the distant road.

  He slipped on his catalyst gloves. The steel runes vibrated faintly as they detected his mana, lighting up in bright cerulean. Then he hurried after his superior, who was already striding into the woods—her boots crunching the fallen leaves like charred ribs, the branches creaking overhead like cracking vertebrae. She seemed to enjoy every sound.

  The wind blew cold, lifting Carmilla’s coat. She smiled, pleased, walking with sure steps as the forest deepened around them. Every squirrel and bird within range fled at the sight of the distant white-haired figure. Even the termites buried in the trunks seemed to sense her—an odd, dangerous presence.

  “So… what are we looking for, Mrs. Carmilla?” He asked from behind, like a puppy following its master.

  “A crypt,” she replied casually. “Sort of. Hidden in this forest.”

  Silence. A branch snapped—like the boy’s sanity cracking.

  “WHAT?!” Theo stammered, nearly panicking. “B-But we didn’t bring supplies, or a map, and—and there could be dangerous mages or—”

  Carmilla’s laughter didn’t soothe him. It merely silenced him so she could continue.

  “Relax, boy scout.” Each of her steps carried intent. “I told you I wanted something different today. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to stretch one’s legs now and then, enjoy a bit of fresh air. I missed walking like this. Brings back memories.”

  The forest closed in around them, breathing like a living lung.

  Theo swallowed hard. What kind of memories could she mean? She never spoke of her past—and when she did, her words came vague, fragmented, almost nonsensical. He didn’t even know what powers she truly possessed. She didn’t look like a fighter—not with her refined, pristine appearance.

  The car was long out of sight. Everywhere he turned there was nothing but trees. Each passing second tightened the knot in his chest. How in the hell was he supposed to protect her—or himself? Resigned, he could only breathe in deep, convincing himself that his superior knew what she was doing.

  Bit by bit, the dense woods swallowed them whole. The canopy blotted out the sun, casting jagged shadows across their path—shadows that seemed ready to ambush them at any moment.

  They had been walking for minutes in silence. Carmilla led the way. He watched her back, her coat never once slipping no matter how the wind pulled or how many puddles she stepped over.

  He still understood nothing. Why had she chosen only him to accompany her? Why did everyone at headquarters grow serious whenever her name was mentioned? She had no codename like other mages. Hokart—their minotaur companion, a male with a will stronger than Valerian steel—paled in her presence. Vyper could hardly meet her eye. The rest of the squad didn’t even try.

  He knew he should feel somewhat honored. Yet something in his gut kept whispering the same truth: fast promotions always come with a price.

  …

  …

  …

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