Kaelthar did not know exactly when he was taken out of that room for the first time.
In this body, time no longer existed as a clear chain of cause and effect. It arrived as change—changes in light, changes in temperature, changes in sound. And that day, the change was so drastic that his awareness—usually drifting softly between drowsiness and comfort—suddenly tightened and woke completely.
Air.
The air outside the room was different.
It was not heavy. It did not press against his small chest. It carried no scent of fear, unease, or submission like the air of the demon palace once had.
This air… moved.
It flowed across his skin.
It brushed his soft cheeks and slipped between the fine strands of hair on his head.
Kaelthar blinked.
Light filled his vision—not the aggressive light he once knew as a demon, not the kind that purified or burned, but light that was… colored.
The stone walls Seraphina passed were no longer just shapes. They held hues: pale cream, warm brown, golden shadows shifting with the flicker of candlelight.
As a demon, color had never meant anything to him. The world had always been intensity: strong or weak, dangerous or harmless.
But now, in the mind of this baby, color felt like an invitation.
He wanted to get closer.
He wanted to touch.
He wanted to know if those colors had flavors, like wood, like cloth, like milk.
His hand moved without conscious command—tiny fingers opening and closing, grasping at empty air.
The movement was clumsy, but the impulse was clear.
This world felt… full of possibilities.
Every object looked like something that could be explored with his mouth, his skin, with his small existence.
Seraphina walked down a long corridor toward the main hall of the castle.
Her steps were calm, her arms steady as they supported Kaelthar’s small body.
She did not realize that her daughter—or rather, the being now living within that body—was staring at the world with the seriousness of a conqueror discovering a new continent.
The main hall was vast, with a high ceiling and large windows that allowed the late afternoon sunlight to pour in freely.
The air there was warmer, carrying the scent of wood, clean cloth, and something that immediately captured Kaelthar’s attention.
Fire.
A large fireplace burned along one side of the room.
The flames were not wild or violent.
They were steady—orange and yellow tongues dancing gently over burning logs.
And at that moment, something struck him.
Not from this human body.
But from the depths of his soul.
Memory.
Fire in the demon realm was not warmth—it was power.
Fire that stung, that burned demon skin, that triggered currents of dark energy that tightened muscles and sharpened awareness.
Fire that was not feared, but approached.
Touched.
Sought.
Fire was sensation.
Fire was one of the few pleasures in a cruel world.
Kaelthar stiffened.
His eyes—large and clear baby eyes—locked onto the flames of the fireplace.
Something inside him trembled.
Not hunger like before.
But longing.
Memories of heat spreading through his body, of the small surge of strength born from minor burns, surfaced without warning.
If I touch it…
The thought appeared naturally.
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If I feel it… will this body understand too?
His hand moved more forcefully now.
His fingers stretched toward the fireplace as if distance could be broken by sheer desire.
His chest felt tight, swollen with an urge he could not fulfill.
He wanted to get closer.
He wanted to touch the fire.
He wanted to know whether that old pleasure still existed—whether he was still Kaelthar, even if his body had changed.
But the small body did not move.
He was being carried.
Held by gentle arms.
Bound by safety he had not asked for.
Limited by weakness he could not break.
The frustration came suddenly and violently.
This… is revolting.
As the Demon King, the world responded to his will.
As a human baby, his will was trapped inside a body that could not even sit upright.
He knew what he wanted.
And the inability to reach it felt more painful than any wound he had ever received as a demon.
He tried to move, squirming in Seraphina’s arms.
A small sound escaped him—not quite a cry, more like a protest.
But Seraphina only smiled, assuming her daughter was restless after being outside the room for too long.
“Easy, my love,” she whispered softly.
“You’re safe.”
I don’t want to be safe, Kaelthar thought irritably.
I want that fire.
The urge grew stronger.
Memories of heat and power mixed with the unfamiliar human awareness of pain this body had never experienced.
He did not know whether fire would give him strength or agony.
But the curiosity burned as fiercely as the flames before him.
He opened his mouth.
And cried.
The cry burst out loudly and desperately.
Not from hunger.
Not from cold.
Not from loneliness.
The cry was born from a single humiliating truth:
He knew what he wanted.
And no one understood.
Seraphina startled and immediately stopped walking.
She rocked him gently, trying to soothe him.
“What is it, Aurelia? Are you scared?”
Scared.
The word felt foreign.
He was not scared.
He was angry.
Frustrated.
Trapped inside a body incapable of expressing the will of his soul.
His cries grew louder, turning into small screams that shook his tiny chest.
People in the room turned to look.
But none of them looked toward the fireplace.
None of them understood that the flame was the center of Kaelthar’s world in that moment.
Finally, Seraphina turned away from the fireplace, carrying Kaelthar toward a quieter corner.
The crying slowly faded—not because his wish had been granted, but because the baby’s body had grown exhausted.
The fire disappeared from his sight.
And with it, that possibility vanished as well.
In his mother’s arms, Kaelthar sniffled softly—not from sadness, but from the bitter realization growing inside him.
In the human world, desire could not always be fulfilled by power.
And for the first time since his rebirth, Kaelthar felt something far more painful than wounds—
powerlessness.
Deep within the demon palace, Kaelthar—or rather, Aurelia trapped within the Demon King’s body—sat inside a dark and cold chamber.
In the corner of the room, Anna sat silently, her body stiff like a statue.
Her gray eyes were empty, no longer reflecting life.
Aurelia looked at her with tangled emotions: guilt, confusion, and despair.
“What am I supposed to do with you?” she whispered softly.
Anna—or the hollow shell that had become her—did not respond.
There was no fear.
No hope.
Aurelia knew this was the direct result of demonic magic that drained a human’s negative emotions until nothing remained.
She had never intended for this to happen.
But this demon body, with its dark instincts, had violated everything she once stood for as the Holy Queen.
Aurelia clenched her fists, trying to contain the guilt shaking her heart.
She had sworn to protect Anna.
Now the woman was nothing more than a living puppet without a soul.
Aurelia paced across the room, her mind spinning in search of a solution.
She could not leave Anna alone.
The demon world was full of intrigue and danger.
If Anna were discovered by servants or one of Kaelthar’s siblings, her fate would be far worse.
But Aurelia also could not guard her every moment.
Her role as the Demon King’s son demanded constant attention.
“I have to do something…” she muttered.
And then an idea surfaced.
A familiar contract.
Aurelia stopped pacing.
As the Holy Queen, she had always despised slavery—especially magical contracts that bound someone against their will.
In her previous life she had fought countless dark mages who enslaved human souls through such magic.
But now she had no other choice.
This isn’t about controlling her, she tried to convince herself.
I only want her to move… to protect herself.
She sighed heavily.
Part of her still rejected the idea.
But without a soul, a human body could not survive long in the demon realm.
With a familiar contract, Anna would at least gain energy to live and the ability to follow simple commands.
That night, Aurelia sat on the cold stone floor in front of Anna.
She breathed deeply, steadying her mind.
Her large clawed hand rose slowly as black and crimson light began to flow from her palm.
The familiar contract spell formed within her thoughts—knowledge inherited from Kaelthar’s memories.
“Anna…” she said softly, gazing into the woman’s empty eyes.
“I’m sorry I have to do this. I know you would never want it. But I don’t have any other choice.”
Her hand shone brighter.
A complex magic circle formed on the floor beneath Anna.
Ancient demonic symbols appeared in the air, connecting the two of them.
Energy flowed from Aurelia’s body into the circle.
Binding.
Linking.
When the spell completed, Anna suddenly moved.
Her gray eyes flashed red for a brief moment before fading again.
Her body stood stiffly, as if controlled by invisible strings.
She looked at Aurelia with a blank expression, waiting.
Aurelia swallowed.
“Anna,” she said softly, testing the contract.
“Can you hear me?”
“Yes, Master,” Anna replied in a flat voice.
The word hit Aurelia like a blade.
As the Holy Queen, she had always fought for human freedom.
Now she had bound someone into forced obedience.
“Walk over there,” she said quietly, pointing toward another corner of the room.
Anna obeyed immediately.
Her steps were mechanical.
She stopped and looked back at Aurelia, waiting for the next command.
The contract worked.
Anna could move.
She could perform simple tasks.
But the guilt inside Aurelia did not fade.
As time passed, Aurelia adapted to the new situation.
She gave Anna simple instructions to maintain appearances.
Whenever servants or siblings visited, Anna pretended to be Kaelthar’s personal servant.
This protected her from suspicion.
But each time Anna obeyed without emotion, Aurelia felt the emptiness more deeply.
No smiles.
No fear.
No anger.
Only a puppet moving by another’s will.
This is wrong, Aurelia thought.
I must find a way to restore her soul.
One quiet night, Aurelia sat in her chamber watching Anna sleep.
The woman’s face looked peaceful.
But Aurelia knew no true soul rested within her.
“I promised I would protect you,” Aurelia whispered softly.
“And I won’t stop until I find a way to free you.”
Deep in her heart, she knew restoring Anna’s soul would not be easy.
She needed holy magic.
Magic possessed only by her former body—the other Aurelia.
To do that, she would have to reach the human world.
And meet the woman who now lived the life she once had.
And that challenge…
was greater than anything she had ever faced before.
