The first letter came at dawn.
I was outside feeding the chickens when I noticed a young man in a white robe standing at the edge of our garden, shaking. He looked about twenty years old. He wore the symbol of the Church on his chest, and he held a sealed envelope in both hands, as if it were a live snake.
"H-Hero Ashford," he said. "I have a message from the Holy Council."
"Good morning!" I said. "Would you like some tea?"
"N-no! No, thank you!" He thrust the envelope toward me, dropped it, picked it up, and handed it over again. "I was told to leave this and go. I'm sorry. Please don't tell the Demon Lord I was here."
Then he ran away so fast that he left one of his sandals behind.
I was still staring at the sandal when I heard a tapping at the kitchen window.
Inside, Noctavia was already standing at the glass, with her sleepy hair a mess and her tail low. A black bird sat on the windowsill. It was no ordinary bird. Its eyes glowed red, and it held a rolled-up letter in its claws with a black wax seal.
"This is from the generals," she said, with a frown. "Why are my generals writing to me? They know I'm on a vacation."
"You're on a... vacation?"
"It's retirement. I'm retired." She snatched the letter. "Don't make it weird."
We sat down at the table with both letters in front of us. I opened mine first. Noctavia opened hers with one sharp claw.
We read in silence.
The Church's letter was written in careful, formal language. It said that the Holy Council had "deep concerns" about the "unusual union" between the Hero and the Demon Lord. It said that Elise Ashford, chosen of humanity, may have been "misled, enchanted, or otherwise influenced." It asked her, very politely, to come to the cathedral within thirty days for a "friendly conversation about the future of her marriage."
I read it twice.
"They want me to talk about my marriage," I said slowly.
"Mine says..." Noctavia's voice sounded strange. "It says that my generals are 'gravely worried' about 'the human.' They think she 'may have bewitched' me. They want me to return to the Black Throne for a 'private discussion about the proper path forward.'" She crumpled the letter in her fist. Her tail had puffed up to twice its size. "They want to separate us."
"They want to take you away?"
"They can try." Dark light began to flicker around her fingers. "I'll burn the cathedral. I'll burn the generals' hall. I'll burn both, and then I'll—"
"Noctavia."
"What?"
"We just got the potatoes."
She stopped.
"I don't want another war," I said, and I laid my hand on top of hers. "I just got you. I'm not letting anyone take you away. But I'm not going to start the world on fire, either. We'll answer them. Together."
The dark light faded. She stared at our hands for a while. Then, quietly:
"...Whatever."
Yes. Obviously yes.
I smiled, and then I looked down at the two letters on the table again. Something was bothering me.
The Church's letter and the generals' letter were written by different people, in different languages, on different paper, with different seals. They came from two sides that had been trying to kill each other for hundreds of years.
But they used almost the same words.
Deep concerns. Misled. Enchanted. Friendly conversation. Proper path forward.
I picked up one letter in each hand and held them side by side. Noctavia leaned closer, her shoulder against mine.
"Elise," she said slowly. "Are these... the same?"
"I don't know," I said. "But I think we're about to find out."
Outside, the chickens clucked. A single yellow flower trembled in a glass jar on the table.
And on the doorstep, a lonely white sandal waited for its owner to come back.