Chapter Two

  …And His Bad Back

  “...His bad back.”

  “I don’t appreciate the external commentary, Phoenix.”

  Phoenix shut the copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Kingdom of Dawn that his father, who was currently lying spread out on the polished marble throne room floor, had gifted to him to read to his kids.

  “Aww, Dad, I was just starting to get really into it!” said the quarter-demon little boy sitting on the throne to Phoenix’s left. The dark slits in his eyes tightened as his eyelids drooped down in disappointment. A single fang could be seen in his frown.

  “Yeah, I really wanted to learn more about Grandma and Grandpa’s adventures!” said the quarter-demon little girl sitting on the throne to Phoenix's right. Her emerald eyes were human, but two tiny horns protruded from the top of her head.

  “And Uncle Bird and Aunt Mimi, too!” added the boy.

  Phoenix rubbed the boy’s ashen hair and the girl’s gold hair, “Now, now. Ash and Vala, we will learn more about your grandparents and their friends’ journey tomorrow.” He got up from the lower throne and walked up to the hellgate to Castle Mal, placing his hand onto the hand-shaped indent of the hellstone mana receptacle, pushing his mana through it.

  A demonic skull acted as the archway’s keystone. Flames suddenly burst forth from its sockets as a wall of lava spilled out of his mouth and filled the empty space underneath. The throne room of the magmatic Castle Mal faded into view with the fart-like outgassing of sulfur and lava, and the screams of the suffering.

  “For now, why don’t you go play with your cousins Flint and Hess?”

  “Alright,” Ash sighed, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Vala.”

  “Mhm.” Vala sprouted charcoal like demonic wings from her lower back and carried Ash through the portal as a couple high-pitched, positive yelps signaled their successful crossover. “I wonder if they’ll want to play Goo the Ooze?” was the last thing their father heard before the hellgate closed with reversed screams.

  Phoenix, the half-demon Prince of Dawn, looked similar to Sol… with some additions. His hair started with a charcoal color like his mother’s, but became crimson at its tips like his father’s. However, instead of it being long, thick, and spiky—it was short, straight, and gelled up. Dark horns curled around to the front of his forehead, but were relatively unintrusive. His irises were these amber slits, as thin, square-framed black glasses rested in front of them. The canines in his mouth were sharper than usual, but easily retractable. Phoenix was approaching his forties, but he looked like he was in his early-twenties, thanks to his mixed blood. He didn’t have the pink, tough skin of his mother, but he kept the heat resistance properties of it anyway. His outfit was a simple but serious black and red military uniform, sporting a blood red pair of gloves and a maroon cape. He had many awards due to his intelligence, but often kept them in his private study as he didn’t like to show off; only a respectful few pins stayed on his uniform. His throne’s height was low compared to his mother and father’s, about on par with his sister’s on the other side of the line. He sat down on it and folded his hands together, covering his sour expression as he observed his father.

  Hero-King Solaris was now seventy-two years old, and currently spread out on the cold stone floor right in the middle of the skylight’s beam, glaring up at the clouds passing by. His drooping spiky hair was now completely gray, down to his waist, and fanned across the floor at his sides. A matching grey beard fell down to the bottom of his loose, wrinkly neck. His face had pronounced nasolabial folds and his eyelids sagged, making him look over-tired. The limbs that were visible showed all of his spots and blemishes for everyone, including the two royal guards at the room’s entrance, to see. This was a common occurrence for everybody in the castle to witness, and they didn’t pay it much mind. In Phoenix’s mind, however, it was clear his father was no longer in his prime; his bad back contributing much to that conclusion. Restless, Phoenix got up from his throne and walked over to the old man on the floor.

  “The clouds… Oh! That one looks like a dragon!” King Solaris pointed. He imagined it blowing the other clouds away with a spectacular roar, but something else blocked his view.

  “You’ve been lying there all day, Father,” remarked his son, bending above his face. “Shouldn’t you get back into your office and manage the kingdom?”

  “I can manage the kingdom perfectly fine from here, thank you,” the King replied. He used his weak legs to scoot one-hundred-eighty degrees away from his son to get an unobstructed view of the sky. It took him about ten seconds.

  Phoenix briefly covered his face with his right hand and sighed before stretching out his arm at the floor. Suddenly encompassing the area directly below the King, a thick slab of stone pivoted him ninety degrees upwards. Now back on his feet, the King's back pain zinged as he hunched forward into his default posture. And almost losing his balance, he reached into his faded dawn-colored fluffy robes, unsheathing his backup sword which now had a leather ball pierced at its tip, using it as a cane.

  Phoenix was taken aback, “Father! Why are you using the Ancient Sword of Swords as a--as a--AS A CANE?”

  “What, this old thing?” he pointed to it. “This is my backup sword! I can do whatever I want with it!”

  “You can’t—ugh, nevermind.” Phoenix decided it wasn’t worth arguing about, the kingdom was safe, after all. No evil has appeared since his parents’ party took care of that eldritch tentacle guy many years ago. Instead, he just watched as his father shuffled his way over to the stairs leading up to his throne.

  Step, creak. Step, creak. Step, creak. The King was moving at a snail’s pace as his joints loudly ached.

  Step, creak. step, creak. Step, creak. Phoenix was growing impatient.

  Step, creak. Step, creak. Step, creak. The King had finally made it… to the bottom of the stairs.

  Lifffffffffft, place. Lifffffffffft, place. Lifffffffffft, place.

  “This is taking too long,” Phoenix thought, then pointed at his father and cast: “Greater Agility.” A yellow aura briefly flashed around him.

  Liffffft, place. Liffffft, place. Liffffft—

  “STILL TAKING TOO LONG!” Phoenix thought again, then swiftly ran behind his father and lifted him into his arms, carrying him to the throne like a frozen mannequin and sitting him down.

  “Oh, why thank you, Son,” King Solaris smiled. “I can see why your wife thought you were such a gentleman, doing such a thing out of the goodness of your own heart.”

  Phoenix gave a twitchy smile, “Ha-ha, right…” Then looked up, preparing himself, before meeting the King’s gaze very suddenly. “Anyway Father, I don’t mean to breach such a sensitive subject, but are you sure you’re still fit—to be the king?”

  “Phoenix! Geneesus, man. What makes you say that all of a sudden?” The King looked away in embarrassment of his son.

  Phoenix moved to the left side of the throne and got directly in front of his father’s view again, “I mean, all you do is lie down on that floor like a sunbathing cat all day”—he pointed to it—“and you get the attendants to practically run the entire kingdom for you!”

  “That’s not true!” The King’s eyes looked off to the side. “I… read. And who really wants to go through that mountain of paperwork anyway?” He grabbed at his hairs on his head, filling the gaps between his fingers. “Forty-nine years of that makes a man MAD, I tell you! MAaAaD!” He pointed to his son. “You’re telling me that you wouldn’t delegate a person to do that?”

  Phoenix placed his hand on his chin, “Okay, I agree with you there—but that’s not the point!”

  “What is the point then?”

  Phoenix breathed out sharply, “Look, do you even know how long you’ve been stuck in this”—he rotated his hand in a circular motion—“cycle for?”

  “Oh it can’t be more than a year—”

  “Five years,” his son corrected, adjusting his sharp glasses with his middle finger, producing a glare.

  “What?” the King suddenly lunged back in his chair in shock, which made him wince in pain again.

  “You’ve been doing this for five years, Father,” Phoenix repeated, softly. “You’ve served your kingdom well in the past, but you’re failing your kingdom right now.”

  The King slouched in the shadow of his throne. His body started to twitch, and his clenched teeth started to show. Out of the shadows covering his eyes, tears begin to stream down his face, and seeing his father’s emotions, Phoenix shyly looked down at the floor.

  “...I’ve been a bad king lately, huh, Son?” A shaky voice emanated from the crying old man.

  “Yes, Father,” his son answered somberly.

  The royal guardsmen stationed at the throne room’s doors were trying hard not to cry too. Although, the rattling of their armor made their emotional states pretty apparent.

  “So,” the old man continued, “the time finally comes for the father to ask a favor from his own son.”

  “Father?” Phoenix looked up to see his dad lean out of the shadows with a fire in his eyes—and snot running onto the top of his lip.

  “Then tell me Phoenix, how should I overcome this weakness?” Hero-King Solaris held a confident smirk once again.

  “First,” his son answered, pulling out a crimson handkerchief with his name hand-embroidered in gold (among his wife’s greatest works) and enthusiastically presenting it to his father, “a handkerchief.”

  “How is this supposed to help me?” the King answered, accepting it.

  Phoenix pointed at his own nose in response.

  “Oh,” the King replied, briefly licking his upper lip to check on the green ooey-gooey contents stuck to it. He blew his nose and wiped the snot on the handkerchief then handed it back to Phoenix. He reluctantly accepted, folding it into a bundle and carefully stuffing it back into his pocket with a disgusted look.

  “Second,” Phoenix raised his finger, “and I believe this is your only recourse, is that you need to fix your bad back.”

  “Fix my back?” As he said this, the King felt another zing in his spine and hunched over.

  “Yes, fix your back,” Phoenix repeated. “You only started acting this way after you hurt yourself getting out of bed that one morning.” He turned to the guards at the entrance. “Isn’t that right, guards?”

  The guards looked at each other, their armor squeaking, then rapidly nodded at their commander.

  “See? They agree too.”

  “Okay?” the King raised an eyebrow, “And what happens if I decide not to do that?”

  “You abdicate the throne to Mother,” he pointed to the hellgate at the side of the room.

  “I could do that,” the King rubbed his chin, “but she’s too busy running New Mal.”

  “Okay, then you abdicate the throne to either me or Sis. As it is right now, either one of us would do a better job than you.”

  “The Prince is right, my Liege!” shouted the royal guard on the right.

  “Nobody asked for your opinion!” the King shouted back.

  “S-sorry!”

  “Apology accepted!” the King yelled, then crossed his arms, looking back at his son. “But I want to stay King… it has its benefits.”

  “Right," Phoenix nodded. "So in lieu of that, I propose this: While you are trying to find a way to fix your back pain, Sis and I will take turns as interim ruler. Once you fix your back, and if by that time you decide you still want to be king, well, you would stay as the king and we’d step down. No contest for the throne, and the only challenge being the limitations of your willpower. And since Sis and I need to put our governance training into practice, it’s a win-win situation for all of us.”

  “A win-win you say?” the King stroked his beard. “I don’t see why not, I want to get rid of this chronic pain as much as you do. Besides,” he shrugged, “at least I won’t have to worry about managing the country.”

  “It’s not like you were really doing that anyway,” Phoenix thought while his left eye twitched.

  “You’ve got yourself a deal, Son.”

  The King of Dawn shook the Prince of Dawn’s hand.

  “Thank you father, I think this will be a great experience for the both of us.” For the first time in a while, Phoenix felt his stress levels go down and marveled at the sensation with his eyes closed. “Now then, would you like to get started?” He opened his eyes to find that his old man fell asleep on the throne, complete with a bulbous snot bubble present in his right nostril. “Er, father?”

  POP!

  “Yes, yes, let me get started!” The King tried to get up but his back pain resurfaced with a CRACK. “Ooh,” he leaned back again.

  “Great," his son spread his arms, "is there anywhere you would like to go?”

  “The library, I guess.”

  “You and Mom searched all over that already.” Phoenix remembered the many nights his parents looked for a cure in those books. “Are you sure?”

  “Can’t hurt to take another look, after all this time, there might be new stuff in there that the librarian got their hands on.”

  “Good point.”

  Phoenix rang the silver bell located next to the throne on a perfectly-sized table. And shortly later, a maid rolled through the nearby doors with a wheelchair. Phoenix carefully transferred the King onto it like a baby.

  “He wishes to head to the library, please, Mia,” he tasked the maid.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” she bowed.

  Phoenix watched as the maid wheeled the King out of the throne room and down the ruby carpeted hallway toward the library. He then looked down, relaxed his arms, and breathed out. The Hero-King’s throne was there, waiting for him. He walked up the steps to it, glancing back at the royal guards for confirmation, of which the one on the right gave him a thumbs up.

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  “Here goes nothing,” Phoenix muttered, now determined to finally take his seat. He took another deep breath, closed his eyes, and popped his tush on the place of power. He savored the moment and got a nice butt-feel before his eyes opened to the greater throne room view. But therein lied something funny: the rest of the room was not perfectly centered with the throne; it was ever so slightly off.

  “IT’S OFF CENTER!” he shouted, immediately jumping off the cushioned marble throne and trying his hardest to move it.

  It didn’t budge.

  “IT’S BUILT INTO THE WALL!”

  The Prince tried casting earth magic to move it, but it fizzled upon hitting the throne.

  “IT’S GOT AN ANTI-MAGIC ENCHANTMENT!”

  He got on his knees and slammed his fist on the arm rest in anger, causing him to grab his hand in pain.

  “AHH-”

  The doors to the royal library swung open as the Hero-King Solaris and one of his royal maids, Mia, passed through. She was a young human, in her twenties, and had been working in the castle since she was fifteen. Her mother, Gia, was currently the head maid who spent most of her day devising meals for the royal family. Mia had faded brown hair, like the color of buckwheat noodles, and pulled it into a bun. A thick strand fell down on the right side of her face, just past her neck, which flopped around as she moved just like a noodle. Her eyes matched her hair color, and she had a soft look, free of judgement. She was happy to be of service to a great royal family, and felt bad about her King’s troubles.

  Maids that work for the Hero-King’s family did not wear a traditional outfit. It was thought that such an outfit would promote their status as servants. No, the maids here were not servants, they were employees; free to have lives outside of their scheduled work hours. In fact, they were even urged to do so during their free-time. Regardless, some of them, like Mia’s family, liked to spend their free-time helping the royal family. They did this not just for the extra overtime pay, but because they genuinely cared for their well-being.

  Back to their outfits. Castle Dawn's standard maid wear is a white long-sleeved button-down shirt with black pants and an undershirt, although they are allowed to wear skirts if they like. Jeans and T-shirts are fine if they are working outdoors. Additional accessories are okay: earrings, ties, headbands, whatever they want to add for a custom flair. As for Mia, she liked to change her earrings every day. Yesterday, she had on earrings of the family crest: the rising sun with red and yellow rays coming off it in triangles. Today, they were cartoonish depictions of a black cat’s face. Unveil the spoiler for a complete description.

  :3

  Mia brought her King to the front desk of the library, which was curved into a circle and made from polished mahogany. Inside the radius on the opposite side of where they were waiting, was a reddish-brown screech-owl wildfolk. In other words, a five-foot-ten intelligent owl was showing his back to the two of them, seemingly having trouble doing something.

  “Ugh, useless wings!” He murmured, trying to pick up a book with them, but it kept sliding back onto his desk. He hoo’d under his breath each time he dropped it, which the two onlookers guessed was probably a curse word in his native tongue.

  “Ahem,” the King cleared his throat.

  “What is it, Tarkus?" the Owl rotated its head one-hundred-eighty degrees. "You know that I’m bus—” His eyes bulged, his beak opened, and he suddenly took a knee. “Ah! My King! It’s you!”

  “It has been a while, Izzy,” the King raised his hand with a smile, signalling for the owl to be at ease.

  Izzy placed his wing under his chin, “Yes, it has been about four years. Hm.”

  “What were you doing over there?” The King leaned to the side to get a better look. There was a neat stack of books on the counter next to a messy pile of other unorganized ones.

  “Oh that, heh,” the librarian put his left wing behind his head. “I was trying to figure out how to stack the books using my wings, instead of using the telekinetic magic like I usually do. It helps to have some dexterity in the case of emergencies.”

  “Why don’t you just use your claws?” Mia chimed in.

  “My claws?” Izzy moved his wings out of the way and looked down at his feet. “Well yes, that would probably work, but I don’t want to chance accidentally puncturing the books. Plus, I’ll have you know that’s highly unhygienic, using my feet.” His eyes glanced back up at them, before the rest of his head followed. “So, what brings you here, My Liege?”

  “You can drop the pleasantries, Izzy,” he responded.

  “My apologies, er, what brings you here, Sol?”

  “I’ve come here to find some information!” he proclaimed.

  “What kind? Can you be more specific?”

  “Something to aid me in my search for a cure!”

  “My King, uh, Sol, you are sick?” the owl said, surprised. “Is it rot-gut? The plague?” He gasped. “Don’t tell me you have pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis?”

  “Pneumono-what now?” the others thought simultaneously.

  “No, not pneumo-whatever,” the King thumbed his backside, “It’s my back! My spine!”

  “Ah, yes! Your back! Of course!” Izzy quickly feather-dusted his face, nodding rapidly.

  “Do you have any new books that may be of use?”

  “Mm, one second, let me check.”

  The owl returned to the other side of the counter and looked out at the rows upon rows of books in this three floor private library. Just like the counter, the library curved in a concave fashion, each book like a pixel on a screen. Two spiral stairways on each end led to the next floor and slideable ladders helped even the shortest of creatures reach the normally forbidden knowledge up top. The owl then stuck out his right wing to the shelves. In response, the books started to glow a bright white, and his head began to rapidly rotate from side to side.

  “My Liege,” Mia poked the King softly.

  “Yes, Mia?” he answered.

  “May I ask a question?”

  “You have my permission.”

  “What is he doing?” she pointed at the librarian.

  “He’s searching for the books that will be the most useful to me. He uses a special magic he calls ‘Sorting Algorithm.’”

  “How does it work?”

  “Mm, I believe he can mentally input some parameters and the books get sorted into what is most likely to match.” The King pointed to the two vertical lines that appeared at the leftmost column of the books. The first was red and the second was green. “Do you see those lines?”

  “Yes,” Mia nodded.

  “I think those are what queries the books for their contents. This magic is mostly an automated process, so he doesn’t actually retain any information as those lines pass over. It’s merely to scan and sort; that is all it does. If he wishes to actually know what a book is about, then he’ll have to read its contents normally.”

  “Which line does which?”

  “The green shows the overall progress, and the red does the actual sorting—I think. But I’m not an expert on these things.”

  The green line inched forward while the red one started to vibrate across the books, using the edge of the shelf and its partner as boundaries. Left and right, left and right it went. Fast; almost impossible to follow. But to the onlookers it was strangely alluring. However, an unpleasant noise started to emit from the process:

  WAHSHDHWDSNBOOPASDHIWUHDSDHUKFEHFIEKUSHGFEFASJKHDKJSHAKSHDSJKAHSJDKSHDKJHSAJKHDKJSHKAJHDKJHSKDJAHSDKJSAHDKAJSHDKJASHD!

  The books started to fly off the shelves and get organized, dodging each other and almost hitting the spectators. Mia had to hide behind the King’s wheelchair to avoid a couple of strays. She palmed her ears to block that loud and random noise, shouting, “For a library, this place sure is loud!” Her eyes tried their best to follow what was happening, starting to feel a strenuous tension rising within her body up to her head.

  The King laughed in response at the scene laid out in front of him. “HAHAHA”—then a book smacked him—“OOF!”

  The owl’s head was twitching and rotating, trying to match the movements of the red line like some kind of horror movie cryptid.

  JRIOUFOIEDUFEHJFJABSQWDIUISUFOIUDGDPOSIDOIUWKQHDKJSHFKJSHAKLJHSFJAKSHDKJLSHDKLJHSAKLDHSAJKLHCVBJEWIFOUVIJshdajkhdwkjahskdjhshjkfdspgdihajASDJKSHRWQIOEUlkdjsjkhfkhksdhjaskd!

  The noise started to quiet down as the books gradually got sorted and the lines approached the rightmost edge.

  ASDEUKYWIUDyusydausidyAWJKHDKJhoieoriuyoijhgkgczbnmblfgreijufg.

  Then, the red line abruptly disappeared, and the green one moved across the newly sorted books performing its final checks.

  BOOOOOWUP. BOOOOOWUP. BOOOOOOOOOOOOWUUUP!

  Izzy rested his wing and breathed out, satisfied. “There, it should be sorted now.” He rotated his head backwards, but once again his eyes and beak opened in shock, “WHAT’S WRONG WITH HER?”

  “Hm?” the King turned his head to see his maid convulsing on the floor. “AH! MIA!” He positioned his wheelchair to get a better look.

  “MY KING, SHE’S HAVING A SEIZURE! HOO-hoo-HOO-hoo!” The owl flew over to her, making ambulance-like noises in the process, and cast a warm looking spell on her. After a few moments, she stopped seizing and opened her eyes.

  “Why am I on the floor?” the maid asked, then pointed to the owl above her, “When did he get over here?”

  “You had a seizure, Mia,” replied the King.

  “Don’t worry, I healed you to a complete recovery,” Izzy replied. “Why didn’t you mention you were prone to seizures?”

  “What’s a seizure?” she responded, dumbfounded. The King and the librarian looked at each other.

  “You should probably take her to the royal nurse,” suggested the King. "Have them do some tests."

  “I thought the same,” Izzy nodded.

  The owl stretched his wing over to the bottom left side of the bookshelves and gave three quick flaps. Three books flew off of them and landed on a square table between the counter and the rest of the library. And while he wheeled the King to the table, a couple of chairs moved out of the way for them.

  “These three books seem to be related to what you are looking for,” he stated. “Although, I can’t tell you much more than that.”

  “Thanks, Izzy,” the King replied, now in a prime reading position.

  The librarian nodded and returned to the maid’s side, levitating her out of the room. Now alone and able to concentrate, the King quickly wished for Mia’s well-being and began to read the titles of each of the books in front of him:

  Mioga Methods to Ease Your Aches and Soothe Your Soul by Michael of Michael.

  Strategies to Help Maximize Your Healing Effectiveness by Saint Syra of Oiio.

  Hyper-specific Magics, Magical Artifacts, and the Places and People That Have Them by Dotus the Traveller.

  Solaris flipped each of them over to their sides to check their thickness, “Oh boy,” then flipped them back and stared at their covers, tapping his fingers on the table. “Each of these sounds so boring!” He took a deep breath, preparing himself, then creaked open the Mioga Methods book and started reading.

  Time passed by. After around thirty minutes, the librarian returned with a replacement maid, Chive, to watch over the King. She had an angled bob cut with green hair and a chive pin on her shirt, because she thought it was funny.

  About an hour in, the King fell asleep mid-sentence, so Chive woke him up by gently making him sniff a cup of tea under his nose. He thanked her and took a swig, placing it on a coaster the owl made sure to slide under it before the table got ruined.

  Two hours in, and the King felt his mind starting to wander. Day dreams of his glory days took his attention away. He had to slap himself on the cheeks to get back to the task at hand.

  Three hours in, and the King’s stomach growled. Chive heard it and briefly left to fetch Gia, who looked like a shorter, older, and more drained version of Mia, except she kept a pleasant smile. She served the King a chicken pot pie for dinner, which he happily scarfed down with thanks.

  Four hours in, and the King’s eyes were starting to strain. Their blood vessels constricted and burned, and he had to rub them for relief. Unfortunately, the oils on his skin only made the straining worse, causing his eyes to tear up. Chive had to squeeze in some eye drops.

  Five hours in, and the King finished the first book. It probably would’ve taken longer if he was actually trying the techniques presented, but he was embarrassed to be attempting them in a library of all places. Nobody but his wife wanted to see an old man sweat. At this point, he made the executive decision to call it quits for the rest of the day. It was now eight o'clock at night and all of this book reading had left his eyes droopy. He yawned, causing everyone else to yawn too, like some memetic contagion, and subsequently asked Chive to wheel him to his bedroom so he could sleep.

  “Yes, my King,” she said with a bow.

  “Bye, Sol,” the owl said, giving a lil’ wave of his wing. “I hope to see you here again tomorrow.”

  “I will return, Izzy,” the King responded, weakly lifting his hand up as a departing gesture, before the library's doors shut behind him.

  “Eeeehh…” The King crawled into his bed with a bit of struggle, but ultimately laid snug under the comfy covers. He lifted his head for a brief moment to stare at Chive in the doorway; the golden hall light shining behind her.

  “Anything else, your majesty?” she said, softly.

  “No, that will be all,” he whispered back. “Thank you.”

  “Goodnight, your majesty.”

  “Goodnight, Chive.”

  The maid closed the door and the light escaped from the room. Yawning, the King turned his head to the right and looked out the balcony window at the moon, Gabagool, cradled in the orbit of their planet, Sfogliatella (Spho-ya-dell). The lands over his kingdom’s walls were barely visible in the moonlight, but he could tell his late parents’ wheat fields were swaying calmly in the nightly breeze. Unfortunately he missed the sunset, but fortunately the night was just as beautiful in its own, quiet way. There was a quaint solace to be had in this moment.

  Suddenly, a shadowy blob rustled behind the King, startling him. A dark arm stretched over his shoulder, the sharp and pointed nails of its hand gripping his comforter and pulling it off, exposing him. He was forced to turn the other way, now face-to-face with a pair of pink slitted eyes that glowed within the darkness, housing a silhouette of horns at their top.

  “You’re in bed early, King,” an evil and distorted voice came from the figure.

  “I could say the same to you, demon,” he squinted his ruby eyes.

  A wide smile appeared slowly across the shadow’s face, showcasing its pointed teeth, and its glowing eyes arched as if it was planning something despicable. The shadow’s hands raised and its fingers bent forward as if about to stab something, its nails acting as daggers. And pouring out of its mouth was this dark, ashy-red smoke as it revved up an attack. Instinctively, the King curled into a ball; it was all he could do to protect himself in his state. And then—

  “TICKLE, TICKLE, TICKLE!” snickered Demon King Veris as she wiggled her fingers on her husband’s belly, not looking any different after all of the years he knew her.

  The King tried to grit his teeth and hold back his senses, but the dam in his belly broke and his diaphragm pulsated.

  “HA-HA-HA! V-veris, honey! S-stop!”

  “TIIICKLE, TICKLE, TICKLE! TIIICKLE, TICKLE, TICKLE!” she continued her torture.

  “Hee-he-heee-hee! S-stop it, please!” the King rolled in laughter.

  “Only if you say that you’ve been defeated by my hand!”

  “Never! N-never!”

  “TIIICKLE, TICKLE, TICKLE!” she tickled him even harder.

  “AHAHAHA—okay-ay FINE!” The King was about ready to surrender.

  “Say it,” Veris demanded.

  “I, H-Hero-King Solaris, HAHA—Ruler of th-the Kingdom of D-Dawn, have been duh-defeated!”

  “By who?”

  “B-b-b-by the hand of D-Demon King V-Veris Fiya Mal…Maltencia!”

  The tickling stopped, letting the Hero-King finally relax.

  “Pathetic,” Veris responded with a royal smirk. “The King of Dawn himself, defeated, by mere tickling.”

  “Oh shut-up,” he said while looking her in the eyes with a smirk of his own. “You know that area is sensitive!”

  The two of them grabbed the other’s shoulders and leaned in for a sloppy kiss.

  Smack. Smooch. Sploch. Annnnd here comes the tongue. Ew, look at that slimy spit-string as they pull away and breathe. I’m sure you readers are squirming in disgust right about now. Don’t worry, I am too. But regardless of our feelings on the matter, the two are just as in love as they ever were. Look at them, making out. Eugh. Revolting.

  Mmpth, hnng, mmmth—CRACK!

  “YEOWCH!” the King grabbed his lower back in pain.

  “Oh honey, is it your back?” Veris looked at him with concern, her bright pink eyes widening up.

  “Yes,” the King answered, his voice as minuscule as a mouse.

  “Where?”

  “Here,” he sniffled.

  Veris rubbed the spot back and forth while the King suckled on his thumb. “There, there. It’s okay. Here.” She then attempted to cast a wine colored spell in her hand, but it fizzled out upon contact with her husband's back. “Turn off your magic resistances, Dear.” A colorful aura appeared around his body, only to fade away with a sad woo, letting her spell work. “Is that better?”

  “Oh, yeahhhh,” he relaxed.

  “It pains me to see my beloved like that,” the demon sulked.

  “I’m working on fixing it.”

  “So the rumor circulating amongst our staff was true. You are temporarily giving up the throne to our offspring while you continue your search for a cure?”

  “Uh, yes, that’s right,” the King answered with his face engulfed in the pillow. But the soothing warmth on his back quickly faded away, making him look at his wife quizzically.

  “Why didn’t you consult me first?” she pouted with crossed arms.

  “I-uh, I… Phoenix kinda pushed the issue on me.”

  The Demon King raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m sorry, Veris, you’re right. I should have come to you first before making the decision.”

  “Hm, well, at least you’re honest,” she sighed. “Phoenix can be a bit pushy.”

  “Right.”

  “But that doesn’t absolve you from the consequences, Sol," she pulled at his wrinkly cheek.

  “Consequences?” he said, butt now clenching in fear.

  “Correct," Veris answered, sitting up and snapping her fingers.

  Instantly, a small oval-shaped portal opened up next to her, filled with stars. The King knew this as the Pocket Storage spell; a personal pocket dimension that high tier mages can access. Veris reached inside and moved her hand around, searching for something.

  “Where is it, where is it? Ah! Here it is.”

  Out came a leather mouthpiece, complete with a gag. It auto-strapped onto the King’s face with magic.

  “Consequence one. And...”

  The sound of a flicked door stop echoed in the King's ears as a pink transformation spell manifested on Veris’ lower body.

  “Consequence two.”

  “MMPH!” the King murmured, his eyes trained somewhere down below.

  “Now then," Veris leaned forward with a sly smile. "Bend over, Your Majesty.”

  “MMPH! MMPH! MMMMMMMMMMMMM—”

  For the your best interests (and mine) we're going to skip this naughty sequence of events. But worry not! For they had a private conversation many years ago, consenting to this sort of thing.