OLIVE
This morning was awful. I woke exhausted, my mind a haze, wanting nothing more than to stay in bed. But my parents had decided we were going to church.
Which is why I’m standing here in a dress. Not the worst dress, maybe, but compared to my usual tunic it felt unbearable. My tunic lets me move freely. It breathes with me, like second skin. This thing… it trapped me. Stiff. Heavy. Wrong.
Mom walked a step ahead in her red dress, patterned like autumn leaves, her hand linked easily with Dad’s. He and Olivander both wore earth-brown tunics, practical and soft, their colors blending into the path like they belonged there. They moved lightheartedly, carefree, as if the heat didn’t touch them at all.
Meanwhile, the collar of my dress scratched at my neck. The sleeves itched like punishment. I tugged at them, irritated. The feeling only worsened when Lucarion’s clothes bled through my senses. Soft silk pajamas, light and flowing, compared to this scratchy cage. The sweltering heat pressed down, making it worse, each breath heavier than the last.
I really wished I had used my spell on heat reduction like my brother rather than stamina, as I felt like I was melting under the hot morning sun, I still had my one cast of the day as the sun had refreshed my magic, but I couldn’t see myself spending the entire day without magic.
Tillshade came into view as we made our way up the hill, its large sturdy wall made from the large olive trees in the forest, the logs were reinforced with steel, my dad told me they had been merged together with magic, it was a big feat that took several years, which made our village one of the safest in the world.
We made out way through the southern entrance, this one was smaller than the northern one since there was no path for caravans down south,
I walked with my family, my hands stiff at my sides, the morning air crisp against my skin. The path to the cathedral was crowded, everyone from TillShade and the nearby villages, all dressed in their best. We had reached the town square when a little bundle of energy jumped into my arms.
“Olive!” Mira shouted as she rushed towards me, she embraced me then she whispered “I heard you were grounded”
“grounded?” I echoed as my parents went ahead.
“yes you’re brother said, but he wouldn’t tell us why or for how long.” She said worryingly before adding “Jorren said there was a hole in your tree house”
She straightened her posture in a stiff, over-proper pose and jabbed a finger at me, her voice dropping into a mocking imitation of Jocelyn. “You weren’t using your magic irresponsibly, were you?”
“what I uhhh” the question surprising me so much I didn’t even complain about Jorren. I realized I couldn’t exactly tell her that I had been in a coma for three days, much less the whole other body of it all.
I continued walking towards the church. “I—yeah, I was testing a regrowth spell to help my dad in the forest and well it work—”
she raised an eye brow at me.
“a little too well” I finished.
We walked within the crowd. The bells tolled deep and resonant, rolling over the village like distant thunder. We made it to the front where our parents were waiting.
My parents greeted everyone with familiar warmth, my brother was talking with Reed when we approached, but I only got the chance to say a quick hi before my dad herded us in.
As we walked in my dad took us towards the front, we walked past rows and rows of seats, my dad stopping to occasionally until we reached our placement in the third row on the left side. Given that the first row is exclusively for the clergy we had good seats.
We sat in the pews, I looked behind us, and spotted Talla a few rows back, I gave Olivander a nudge with my elbow, then waved at her. He turned just in time to see her wave back, he fumbled nearly dropping his hymnal as he tried to wave back. She giggled silently before turning back to her mother.
He turned back facing forward slightly red. Now that I had done my sisterly duty, I resigned myself to waiting for the sermon to start.
It was hot in the church as it was filled up with more people than usual, Mom said Alaric was announcing something important.
I focused on Lucarion to try and get away from the heat, but he was sound asleep, in his bed.
I could hear the hellhound, Flicker, lazily sleeping a few feet away, it seemed to notice my apprehension towards it, as it had made sure to keep its distance while still remaining in my line of sight, throughout the previous day, night? Since I hadn’t been able to see the outside yet I wasn’t actually sure if I was keeping up with the circadian rhythm or not. Was I keeping Magnavex up all night? She didn’t seem tired but…
I shook my head remembering the prior night, I had never felt so stupid having her teach me how to write my own name. The motions made no sense. My hand traced strange swirls and curling strokes that felt more like drawing than writing, yet somehow, when I looked down, the marks spelled Lucarion. I could read it clearly.
But I had finally finished the contract.
Hellhound Contract Summon Requirements:
Cannot be summoned in dangerous situations.
If a dangerous situation arises, the demon may flee.
If ordered to fight in danger, the demon may break contract to disobey.
Summoner Requirements:
Must be harmless, nothing that can harm me, whether purposely or accidentally.
Must be loyal to me and only me. Not another Eclipseran, nor any other demon. Just me.
Must be below human-level intellect—smart enough to obey, not smart enough to argue.
Signature: Lucarion
Contract Owner: Lucarion
Contracted Hellhound: Flicker
I tried to wake Lucarion up, but I was incapable of managing it, I guess waking yourself up from sleep was difficult, I returned my focus to myself. With Lucarion asleep I really couldn’t do much except listen, and even that sounded more muffled than normal.
At the front the sanctuary was filling up with clergy, amongst the familiar faces there were those I didn’t recognize, those must have been the new clergy my dad had mentioned.
Among the other clergy, a girl stood in her ceremonial robes. White, trimmed with soft gold, her posture as straight and composed as the carved stone pillars around her.
She looked close to my age. Her blond hair was braided in intricate loops, not a strand out of place. Her hands were folded neatly before her, though she looked nervous standing at the front.
That wasn’t what caught my attention.
What caught my attention was that she wasn’t watching the priest.
She wasn’t watching the congregation.
She was watching me.
For a moment, she held my gaze in hers—until another nun with stern eyes nudged her with an elbow and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes shifted hurriedly away from me.
I let out a slow breath, the knot in my chest loosening just slightly.
When Saint Alaric stepped onto the pulpit, all eyes fell on him, and yet I noticed her eyes drifting momentarily towards me, like a weathervane tugged back and forth by shifting winds.
Beside her, the stern-faced nun leaned in close, whispering words I couldn’t make out. But I could feel them. The air shifted, rippling with invisible weight as power drifted from her hands like rising smoke, coiling through the space between her and the pulpit.
Alaric exhaled once long and low. He raised a hand, not high, not dramatic, just enough. The gesture was slow, almost reverent.
His fingers moved in a simple spiral, then pressed together.
And just like that, the spell took.
His voice rolled out across the cathedral, not booming, not echoing, just perfectly placed. As though the walls themselves learned to carry his words.
“Welcome, everyone,” he said, and his voice was everywhere at once.
My brother leaned toward me, muttering, “Seems a bit excessive to enchant your voice just to make a sermon.”
“they could at least cast a spell for the heat” I whispered back.
Mom rested a hand on his arm, quieting us without a word.
“Brothers and sisters, children of Lumisiel,” Alaric said, his voice carried on magic, measured, perfect, and inescapable. “I bring you news that weighs heavily, but it is news we must face together.”
“Not long ago, something ancient passed through our village. Quiet, but unmistakable.”
He paused. My breath caught in my chest.
“One of our own… young Olive… was touched by forces not of this world.”
Rows of villagers turned their heads like wind-blown grass.
I felt every eye shift toward me. The room shrank. My throat closed.
What is he doing! He is going to tell everyone? Are my parent going to let him, I shot a glance at Dad trying to make it clear how desperate I felt.
My brother seeing my expression put an arm around my shoulder, my mom reached across him and grabbed my hand in hers but said nothing.
“She was not harmed,” Alaric continued, “but she was marked. Possessed—”
I didn’t hear the rest. The word struck like a slap, muffling the world.
Possessed.
My stomach twisted. I pressed my palms against my knees, but my fingers wouldn’t stop trembling.
Was I really possessed? Is that what this all is? Am I hallucinating Lucarion’s life, just waiting for Olive to be taken over? What if I’m not even real?
The collar of my dress tightened around my throat. I pulled at it, but the fabric only scratched harder.
Of course I’m possessed. Demon Lord. What was I thinking? Nobody just wakes up in another body. Nobody wakes up as evil incarnate.
My breath came shallow. The incense in the air turned sour in my throat.
What if this is temporary? What if soon Lucarion controls everything? Or worse, what if this is how possession works—that I switch places with him, trapped in some void, forced to live alone?
My knees bounced against the bench. My nails dug into my skin.
Not that it feels any different now.
Alaric told everyone. They’ll all hate me now. I’m alone.
No… not alone. My family knows. They didn’t—
No. They don’t. Even if I’m not possessed, they don’t know what happened. And if they did… if they knew I was—
Was I really possessed? Am I just lulling them into a false sense of security before the demon inside me strikes?
My chest clenched tight. The world tilted. The murmurs of the congregation flooded in, scraping against my ears.
I shot to my feet. The bench screeched across the stone floor, cutting through Alaric’s voice like a blade.
“Olive?” Olivander whispered.
But I couldn’t stay. Couldn’t breathe.
My footsteps rang out, sharper than the sermon. Down the aisle. Past the altar.
Through the great wooden doors.
I didn’t look back.
I ran past the rows as shouts broke out, my boots pounding against the stone, echoing louder than Alaric’s voice. The doors groaned wide with a rush of air as I shoved them open, sunlight slicing into the gloom behind me.
My feet struck grass, uneven and wet with dew. I barely felt the tears streaking my cheeks, or the cold air clawing at my throat.
I just ran.
Away from the church.
Away from the town.
Into the trees.
Into my forest.