Nearly everything about the two clashed, but even on the battlefield, love can bloom. The only thing that was on their side was just that - they fought for the same side. Lennana was a Captain of the Mage Brigade, and Ezek was a Second Lieutenant of the Magiblade Militia. The Mage Brigade was rather prestigious, in that it required both extensive training and it was typically made of lower nobility. The Magiblade Militia was made of any conscripts - almost all commoners - that showed skill with swords and any traces of magic on them.

Somewhere in the chaos on the Western front, the two found themselves isolated, together, without the accompaniment of their charges. They were surrounded.

"A terrible day to die," remarked Lennana as she summoned forth two balls of lightning in her hands, magic crackling and jumping about with reckless abandon. Her back was up against Ezek's, who had his tell-tale scimitar drawn.

"I'm not willing die today, miss," he said politely, sweat trickling down his brow.

"Oh no," Lennana said with a smile in her voice. "I meant them."

"In that case, let's make short work of them and get back to the main fight."

"My dear," she said charmingly. "We are the main fight!"

She thrust her hands forward, lightning balls flinging at two people. The electricity chained and extended to a few nearby enemy recruits who collapsed to their feet. He charged forward and sliced at whoever he could see wearing a brown-and-green uniform. Blood sprayed across his face and clothing.

"Tch! Fall back!"

"Everyone! FALL BACK!"

The enemy began to retreat, and Ezek went to give chase. Before he could get very far, Lennana caught his wrist. "Let them go, and we'll live another day... what is your name?"

"Ezek. Yours?" he asked, still full of energy and desire to fight.

"Lennana of House Mieran."

"Forgive my boldness, my lady," Ezek said, lowering his gaze as he turned to face her.

She chuckled softly and leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead. "Forgive my boldness instead." When he looked up, startled, she gave a playful wink. "I can't resist a strong-willed man in uniform."

"But I... but we... we can't..."

"Stay in touch, dear." She hurried off to meet with her brigade. Even in the distance, he could hear her sweet voice barking, "None of you idiots better have any injuries, I swear, or else I'm going to-"

Her words faded as she got further away, or perhaps it was the sound of his own heart racing in his ears that distracted him. He looked down at his scimitar. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it on any of his militia today. They liked to try and escape duty. He walked towards a tree and briefly rested his arm up against it, and his head on his forearm, as he stared at the ground beneath them.

Was she just playing with him? Or was something more going to come of this? Would he rebuke- no. No he wouldn't. He couldn't, even if she wasn't a noblelady. He knew that by the warmth blossoming in his chest and the desire he felt shifting. If this really was to pan out, they could both be charged with treason; relations between those in the military was strictly forbidden.

"Gods help me."

A knock, knock, knock came to my door.

"Looks like we have visitors," remarked Veno.

I sighed and stared at the orange tabby cat that was my familiar. "Thank you for that, why, I would think we didn't have visitors if it were just the knocking."

"You're welcome," he purred in response.

The knocking resumed. "I'm coming, I'm coming! Hold your horses, geeze." I got up from my cushioned stool at the table, leaving my mortar and pestle behind, along with the collection of small empty glass vials of various shapes.

When I opened the door, I saw three familiar faces. "... what brings you three here?" I asked, less-than-enthused.

"We're sisters, what are you talking about!" said the red-headed Morghan.

"I dropped out of college," I reminded them. "And that means that I stopped being part of the sorority."

"Like, you'll always be our sorority sister," said the tall, bespectacled brunette Yorana.

"Sisters foreverrr," the black-haired brown-eyed Effy practically triled as she gave me a tight embrace I refused to reciprocate.

"... you didn't have to come check on me," I said, disapproval growing across my features.

"Don't, like, frown so much, 'kay? It'll make you older faster," said Yorana.

Morghan helped herself inside as did the rest of the gaggle.

"Oh, sure, come in, just fine with me," I mumbled under my breath.

Veno climbed off the couch and approached the three women, who squealed and descended upon him with pets and affection.

"You don't want to do that," I said as I closed the front door, watching them.

"Why not? He loooves it, don't you, cutie pie? Don't you!?" said Effy.

The only words I could think of for Veno at the moment were best not uttered. He at least had the mind to keep his mouth shut. Morghan wandered over to my workstation and sat on my stool. "Ooh, did you go to a different college to become an apothecary?"

"No, I didn't."

"But you have herbs and everything laid out!"

"They're not for making medicine. Not exactly." I inhaled and announced, "I'm a witch now."

"No. Way," said Yorana. "Do you fly and everything?"

"I haven't... exactly... gotten flying down yet- HEY DON'T TOUCH THAT!" I admonished Morghan as she reached for a vial in my box of finished potions. She popped it open, cork in one hand, bottle in the other.

"Let's see if this works!"

"Don't drink it! DON'T DRINK IT!"

So, logically, she drank it.

Patrick pondered the remnants of sandwich on the floor as he tried to distract himself from his miserable life. Life had come to a grinding halt for him; he had been fired, his wife was leaving him, and his children hated him. He had never felt more alone, which was saying something, since he had been in solitary confinement before.

No, he thought to himself. I have myself as company, the worst company there is.

A barrage of thoughts came at him and he wondered why he bothered, when even something that he could rely on before to bring him a little joy - eating - now resulted in everything tasting bland or even foul.

Small black dots began to collect on the ground, surrounding the crumbs he had dropped while eating. It wasn't that he was particularly sloppy, he just stopped caring recently. Could he really be blamed?

He watched as the ants gathering started to make a circle with their bodies. That's strange, he thought. It's like they're worshiping it or something... More ants arrived, and the circle grew, with inner circles within and markings.

"What in the..." Patrick fished in his pocket for his phone, eyes glued to the strange scene unfolding. He was too slow.

In a flash of light, all the crumbs he had dropped on the ground were gone.

"What the fuck!"

The ants went about disassembling, going on their merry way back to their ant hill. He grabbed his phone and opened his phone app, rapidly recording... the ants leaving. When they were dispersed, he looked to the video he had. It was just... ants. Walking away from him.

He knew what he had seen, but not what he had seen.

Patrick found himself with many questions, and the thought of giving up on life left him as his curiosity took over.

He needed answers.

I want to say that I found Nayyina, but the truth was, she found me. She found me amongst the shitheads who had attempted to ransack her village that was said to be rolling in cash and just choosing to live modestly.

Imagine our surprise when we started laying waste and found... nothing.

Nothing we could sell.

Nothing we SHOULD sell.

When the villagers had been gathered together, questioned, and some even beaten, Nayyina kept especially calm for a woman who looked so potentially frail. She just looked at us all with pity, like there was something she could see we couldn't.

Even when she took the butt of a gun to her face, she didn't glare or curse at us. She just looked so... disappointed. It was worse than being shot somehow. None of us liked it. Still, there was something about her I couldn't place... so when one of the other mercs took his gun and aimed it at her, I punched him right on the jaw. "Lay off."

"Bitch's looking at me you ass!"

"Only bitch here is you, I said to fucking lay off!" I looked at her. "What's your name?"

"Nayyina," she said, voice quiet but welcoming.

"Nayyina, then. Where are the goods?"

"We have none."

The villagers glanced at each other and spoke another language, which none of us mercs understood. I pointed at Nayyina. "Translate. Now."

"The only good we have is me," she said in response. "They are discussing whether they should offer me in return for being left alone."

"What are they, animals? Throwing one of their own to keep the peace?... yeah, I'll bite it. What's so special about you?"

She nodded her chin in my direction. "Your leg."

"... what about my leg?"

"It's broken, is it not?"

I felt uncomfortable being called out like that, and I wasn't sure how she did it in the first place. Nobody knew that my leg had once been broken, or else the mercs wouldn't rely on me as much. "... what of it?"

"Come here, and I'll heal you."

"Yeah right, what are you going to do, lay on hands and speak tongues and God will heal it?"

"I didn't say God would heal it, I said I would heal it. I don't speak tongues aside from this disgusting language. Now come here, and I'll care for you."

The other mercs egged me on. "Go on, then."

"Let's see if she can heal you, eh?"

"You aren't scared of some woman, are you?"

"Shut up, shut up," I mumbled as I approached her. "Magic isn't real, everyone knows that. This is a waste. Your hands are too small and your arms too weak to rebreak my leg. If you hurt me, Nayyina, I will hit you."

She placed her hands on my shin, and a bright, white light began to glow from her hands. I could feel years of pain alleviating, and I could see the other mercs staring on in awe. Before they had a chance to react, my guns were out, and I was shooting at each of them. Nayyina recoiled from the gunshots, but her work was done - my leg was healed.

"Thank you for your healing. How about we get out of here and take everything by storm, eh? Just the two of us."

Nayyina looked from me to her fellow villagers.

"Or I could make an example-"

"I'll go."

"That's what I like to hear, Nayyina. Call me Reto." I put my pistols in their holsters and offered her my gloved hand. "Let's show the world what we're made of."

You'd think in this day and age there would be something more exciting on my mind than a series of thermos disappearances, yet, here we are.

The thermos I had was a gift from my parents, specifically my mother. It was apparently passed on throughout the generations and... yawn. Who gave two shits? It was over a hundred years old, and I couldn't prove it yet, but somehow, it was making every other thermos I bought vanish. It was driving me crazy.

The plan was simple: set up cameras in the kitchen when my thermos was away, take my thermos out, and then put a new thermos nearby on the counter. It was a flawless plan.

I hadn't prepared for what actually happened.

It was near midnight and I was nodding in and out of consciousness, watching the camera on my phone. The thermos from my parents started to move, shaking, only to start levitating in the air.

"What in the fuck," I whispered to myself as I watched the floating thermos knock the new thermos towards the garbage, until it was knocked in. It flew down to the garbage and knocked some trash around to hide it, and then flew back to its spot on the counter and resumed being still.

Without thinking about it, I uploaded the video to YouTube and ran to my door and locked it. It was getting hard to breathe, and I felt like I might faint. I started looking up a way to deal with demons... holy water and salt. Great. No holy water on hand, and salt was in the kitchen downstairs. You know, the kitchen. With the thermos. That was haunted.

Without thinking, I tried to call my mother, only to remember she was currently vacationing in Japan. She warned me she would be unreachable but I had tried anyway. The sound of her voice on her voicemail failed to soothe me, but instead, made me feel more frantic.

I had put that thermos to my mouth and now it was haunted. Had it always been haunted? DID MY MOM KNOW?!

Everything went black, and the last thing I heard was a knock on my bedroom door.

I lived alone.

I hoped.

"Ahh! Not my bread!" cried out Emily. She had shaky hands thanks to her condition, and always would. "Somebody, catch it, please!"

A small being rushed forward and caught it, tiny hands outstretched. They were pink in color with an emaciated form and a long, rat-like tail. They had large, almost bulbous, sclera-less black eyes that shone in the dim light of the room.

"Yay! My hero!" The being in question walked up to the little girl and offered her the buttered bread. "Thank you!"

Em's mother sighed and asked without looking, "Did you really make our brownie catch your bread when I could just make you another slice?"

"Mom, his name is Tiernan, and I didn't make him do it."

"You know how brownies can be, Em."

"But it was falling... and it was going butter-side down..." Her mother gave her a look over her shoulder, that made Emily sink in her chair. She looked to the brownie in question, who was far too pink to be called such a thing in her opinion. "... I'm sorry, Tiernan."

"S'ok," Tiernan responded. He climbed up her chair to pat her head affectionately, before bounding away.

"You're lucky he's fond of you, you know. Most brownies never show themselves to their families."

"We're his family?"

"Yes, Em. Which is why it's important we treat him with love and respect."

"Okay!" Emily said with a big smile.

Her mother went over and gave Emily a hug. "You're so much like your father. I hope you live a long, happy, healthy life, Em."

Emily hugged her mother in return, hands still trembling against her will. "Don't worry, Mom. I will!"

The executrix sighed, looking at the ragtag group of young adults gathered. On the surface, they seemed fine enough; their clothing was clean and neat, as was their appearance, with their hair being well-kept and their skin unblemished. She, like everyone else in this city, knew the truth of these vultures. They kept their youth using forbidden magic, like their late father had. It was impossible to know what they traded away for their looks, but it was rumored to have been something priceless for each.

"I, Count Henrique Floris, devise and bequeath my property, both real and personal and wherever situated, as follows..." the executrix began.

Just as she was about to continue, a young woman entered the room. Her hair was in a messy braided crown and she wore a brown peasant's dress. She looked vaguely like the other young adults, but somehow, her youth seemed more authentic than theirs.

The others began to mumble and stare, but the executrix silenced them. "She's in the will, be still." She could feel their rising anger but continued. "To my son, Henrique, who shares only his name with me, I bequeath... nothing."

"What!" said Henrique demanded. Two of the other young men present snickered, as did the two women who were present before the late entry.

"To my son Aleist, whose troubles number greater than I do in years, I bequeath... nothing."

"Wow, father is going the scorched earth route, isn't he?" remarked one of the women.

"To my daughter Yura, whose troubles number even more than Aleist's, I bequeath... nothing."

Said Yura grumbled and crossed her arms, making no remarks. She looked to the peasant woman instead with a piercing stare.

"To my son Faus, who left home and surely only returned upon my death, I bequeath... nothing."

"Maybe if he gave me some money before he died I would have stayed around longer," Faus grumbled.

"To my daughter Mielle, the most rotten of my children, I bequeath... nothing."

Mielle scowled. "Rotten!? Rotten! If he wants to see rotten, I'll show him rotten."

The executrix looked from the will to the last person yet to be mentioned. "To my daughter Cecilda-"

"What, daughter?!"

"You can't mean that thing there-"

"-daughter of the late Arie, the only one to receive my gift, I bequeath all my possessions."

The falsely-young siblings looked at Cecilda, gazes intense. They descended into a cacophony of shouting and pointing and profanity, which made Cecilda recoil. The executrix approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "Do you mean to insult your youngest sister and Countess?"

"Stop shouting at me!" Cecilda blurted out, and the siblings, who grew even more heated... fell silent against their will. The air was thick with suppressive magic.

"... you have the gift of Command, my lady?" asked the surprised executrix.

"Oh my Gods. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

The siblings pointed at her and then at their own mouths, which she understood. But she shook her head no. "You can speak again only if you promise not to shout at me."

The executrix applied gentle pressure on the new Countess's shoulder. "Let's depart and leave your siblings to sort out themselves for now. There is a lot of paperwork for you to fill out." The young woman looked down a little and nodded her head. When she did, the executrix lifted Cecilda's head by her chin. "None of that now, you're the Countess, and the wielder of magic far greater than any of us. Walk with pride."

Brijid ducked behind a column of the massive temple, a building made of vibrantly-painted carved marble. She had done so just in time; blue-white flame blew in her direction, with her remaining unscathed as she was opposite the fire's source.

She took out of her too-shallow pockets a candy and popped it in her mouth. Calling it a candy was downright cruel, as it was really more of a medicinal lozenge that happened to have a hint of sweetness to it, mixed in with the anise and licorice flavors. She could feel her mana rapidly restoring, and she looked down at the gauge on the gun in her hand. It was a magi-pistol; unreliable in situations dealing with magical beasts unless you had mana to spend.

There was a roar and stomping as the flames ceased. Each thundering step brought her target closer, and she could smell the fire on their breath. She closed up her gun and tumbled over to another column, running and running. She knew by the altar there was a fountain, but to get there safely was another story. The fountain wouldn't help much against a dragon, but if she was lit on fire, she'd want to be near it.

"Come out, little human," the dragon hissed almost sweetly in the voice of a young man. "I won't harm you... much."

Leaning forward from behind another pillar, Brijid caught a glimpse of the creature. It was several stories tall with massive, leathery, tattered wings, each with holes in them from misplaced shots. Midnight scales had been pushed back and to the side as a result of her prior bullets, and half of its distinct, reptilian face had been blown off. One massive eye was bloodied. It whipped its tail around as it crawled along the mosaic tile floor, searching for the human woman who dared to fight it.

She had seen it fall not once, but twice. She had seen its eyes roll to the back of its head. She had felt its breathing cease. And then it started up all over again, like it was just fine.

Its taloned hands and feet scraped across the floor as it approached. Desparate for a back-shot, she fished in her pocket for another candy. She pulled out her last one, gave it a kiss, and threw it further into the large hall, by another pillar.

"FOUND YOU!" The dragon turned and blew flame towards the candy and the pillar it was near.

Brijid took a silent step from behind her pillar and aimed at the back of the dragon's head with her gun. She could only hope her bullet would fly true.

Angry succubus noises