Chapter Text
The clap of palm to cheek echoed through the room, followed by the clatter of a small body hitting a hard floor in a tangle of bruised limbs. The air was hot and thick with an awful, stinking incense, and the only lights were the candles scattered around the floor, which were slowly melting into sad puddles of wax.
Mira’s father loomed over her, his lean face pulled into an expression that she learned meant he was disappointed in her, but then, he was always disappointed in her, and in her short nine years of life, he’d never once made a secret as to why. She was supposed to be a boy. Not a girl. A son, not a daughter. Sometimes, when she was lying in bed at night, Mira thought that if her father could get away with it, he would leave her on the side of the road and never look back. Some nights, she wished he would.
“Do it,” he said slowly, “again.”
“I…I c-can’t,” Mira mumbled as she pushed back to her feet.
His mouth twisted, and he pointed down to the sigil painted on the floor. “You can, and you will,” he said. “You are a Hong. I will not be shamed by my own daughter”—he said the word like it was a slur—“being unable to conjure a simple dokkaebi. Now pick up the knife. And do it. Again.”
Swallowing thickly, Mira scooped the small knife from the floor and turned around to face the simple summoning circle. Her fingers ached, the scabs hurt, and the most recent cut still oozed blood. Taking her place right at the edge of circle, Mira shook her long pink hair from her face, held her thin arms straight outward, her left hand splayed and her right gripping the blade. Crying, she jabbed her palm with the tip of the knife, murmuring the incantation her father had spent the last two weeks drilling into her head.
She could feel his eyes drilling into the back of her head, his hand poised to strike her if she failed again. She could practically feel that heavy palm hover over the back of her head, threatening her with more pain in exchange for failure.
A scarlet droplet struck the sigil, and for a moment it began to glow, and Mira allowed herself a desperate moment of hope that it would be enough. That she had done it right.
Then the light flickered, faded, and Mira’s hope went with it as that heavy shadow pressed down from behind her. Fear surged up her spine, and panic told her to freeze. That if she moved, it would only be worse. Hard, angry fingers seized her by her hair and jerked, sending a jolt of agony through her scalp as she was tossed to the floor like a misused doll.
Mira let out a tinny sob, and she curled into a ball as her father’s shadow fell over her. She could feel his rage like a palpable aura. He hated her. She knew that much. He never once hid it. He hated her, and he hated her mother for giving birth to her.
“Stand,” her father said coldly.
Mira shivered, but obeyed. Rising on shaking legs, eyes downcast, and arms wrapped around herself.
“Look at me.”
Swallowing thickly, Mira raised her head in slow terror until she was looking up into her father’s face. He didn’t even look angry, which was worst of all. His face had no expression. It was cold and flat. But his eyes told her that it was all a lie.
She didn’t even see his hand move; there was just a loud CRACK, pain blossomed across her cheek, and then she was back on the floor.
“Tomorrow evening,” he said after a moment, “you will try again. And if you fail, I will let Harong decide how to punish you.”
Mira let out a sob as her father turned and stalked out of the room. Harong was her father’s demon. If there was anything meaner or crueler than her father, it was Harong. One of the first things that Mira had learned about calling a familiar was that whatever you called, it would have something in common with you. It was called Resonance. That was why it had always made perfect sense to Mira that Harong was the one who had answered her father.
They were both monsters.
Her face ached as Mira forced herself to sit up on the cold stone floor of her family’s summoning chamber. It was a vast, circular chamber that made her feel as if it might swallow her at any moment, and it was made up of six concentric rings collapsing into the center, where an impossibly intricate summon circle lay.
Currently, Mira was sitting next to one of the lesser circles of the fifth ring. The sixth ring might’ve been easier to use, but ‘No Hong would ever demean themselves by using such a lowly circle’ according to her father.
Rubbing at her aching cheek, Mira pulled her robes straight before tip-toeing over to the summoning circle and staring down at it. She had failed. Over and over again, she had failed. For six nights in a row, her father had stood over her and watched her fail, and then beaten her for it. Mira clenched her jaw, rage and fear boiling in her veins as tears burned at the edges of her eyes. Even then, she could feel her father’s hand in the back of her neck, pushing her face down into copies of times anytime she looked like she might be getting distracted.
Mira didn’t even want a demon! She didn't want some miserable goblin following her around, causing chaos. She didn’t even want to be a Hong! But there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run that her father wouldn’t find her. Harong would make certain of that.
So she needed a demon.
A strong one.
Swallowing thickly, Mira looked around the chamber, knowing it was empty but needing to be sure. There was nothing stopping her. Nothing but a threat. On any other night, that would’ve been enough.
Mira dashed to the doors and threw the lock. It would buy her a little time, at least. Then turned and raced back, crossing over the line into the fourth ring, then the third, the second, and finally stopping at the edge of the central circle that dominated the middle of the room. Deep down, she knew using it was stupid. Not only would nothing answer, but trying to use it would probably kill her.
Even if something did answer, it would amount to the same thing. Probably. Nothing that came out of that circle would be something she could control, and that was if it worked at all, but in that moment, Mira didn’t care.
If she was going to die anyway…why not?
Mira felt a focus like nothing she’d ever felt before as she took up the ritual knife and carefully jabbed it into the meat of her palm. Blood trickled out in a steady ooze as she spoke words evenly that, a moment ago, she’d been stumbling over.
The drops of scarlet struck the inside of the circle over the first summoning symbol, and it immediately ignited. They burned with purple flames that quickly spread across the outer rim of the circle as if following a trail of oil. Mira’s hands ached with the pain of all the repeated tries her father had forced her through, but this time, that pain became a sharp kind of focus.
Already, she was doing better than she’d ever done before. The great inner circle burned bright with power. Casting the knife aside with a loud clatter, Mira fell to her shaking knees, and pressed her palms to the circle.
In the times and grimoires her father had given her, this was where she ought to either call the demon’s name she was invoking, or to make her demand. Under normal circumstances, there was a lot more to the ritual. She should have put spells in place to limit the power of the demons who could reply; that way, she could control them, but Mira didn’t care about that.
So all she said was, “Please,” in a tiny whisper. “Please help me!”
There was a sound like a peak of thunder following a detonation of violet light, and a wave of smoke that smelled of sandalwood thrown to burn in a common campfire washed over her. Mira coughed and hacked, the cloying cloud sticking hard in her mouth and nose. The very air of the chamber turned heavy and redolent with thick spices, and Mira’s eyes immediately began to water, and she rubbed furiously at them.
When she finally blinked them clear, she almost wished she hadn’t.
Standing over her, towering and imperious, was a demon the likes of which Mira had never even heard of. Being so small, it was hard for her to tell how tall she was, but she was easily taller than her father by a lot.
Mira tried to keep her eyes down.
Her father’s tomes said that the more powerful the demon, the more respect you had to show them. Don’t look them in the eye. Know your place. Well, her father had made sure that Mira knew how to do that, at least, even if it made her clench her teeth.
Her eyes settled on the demon’s legs, then trailed up.
Intricate robes of ebony threaded with burnished gold fell around her powerful body like liquid silk. From the waist down, a long slit was left all the way to the hip that showed a long, powerful leg, and above that, its shoulders and arms bare but for some strangely woven webbing that suggested more than it covered. What skin showed through was a light purple shot with intricate whorls of darker patterns the color of rich grapes. Those patterns were so complex they could only have belonged to an absurdly powerful demon.
Two pairs of wings flourished out from her (and it was a her) back, and eventually Mira got her first glimpse of the demoness’ face.
She was beautiful.
Two pairs of deep, black horns curled gracefully around her head, one pair emerged like slender blades from her brow, while the other two sloped around from the base of her skull parallel to her strong lower jaw, almost like tusks. A thick braid of purple hair bound with gold ringlets lay between her upper horns and fell down her back, and all of that brought Mira’s gaze to the demoness’ eyes.
They gold and gold and gold. Deep slits that made Mira think of storybook dragons narrowed as the demoness focused on her. Her arms were crossed, and her expression showed only an odd sort of boredom.
Fingers that ended in tapered claws flexed and then tapped rhythmically against the demoness’ arm in what Mira read as a show of irritation, and on instinct, she jerked back, throwing her arms up between them.
“Hm.” It was an oddly human sound made in the back of the demoness’ throat, and then she moved with courtly grace, taking a step forward and lowering herself down to an elegant crouch.
As she moved, she seemed to…not shrink, but condense. She lost nothing except some of her more intimidating aspects, but kept all of her beauty. Her horns receded, the lower pair vanishing entirely while the upper two became small and less obvious. Her skin took on a more human shade, though the darker patterns remained, and her wings folded into her opulent robes, becoming something more like a common hanbok, albeit of a beautifully deep black.
Mira swallowed thickly as she sat back on her haunches, one arm still raised and her whole body shaking as the demon leaned in with an odd kind of curiosity on her face. Those inhuman golden eyes fixated on her, dilating strangely for a moment until, finally, she spoke.
“Hi.”
Mira blinked owlishly, then slowly moved to sit on her knees, still shaky as the demoness waited patiently for her response, which was…weird. This was a very weird demon.
“H-Hello,” Mira squeaked.
“Are you the one who summoned me?”
No sense lying. That seemed very stupid. “Y-Yes,” she stammered, trying to keep her tone even and failing.
The demoness cocked her head, looking for all the world like a confused hound, and for a moment, Mira wanted to laugh. She didn’t. That also seemed stupid. Just because she was pretty sure she was about to die didn’t mean she needed to aggravate the pretty demon woman.
“Why?” The demoness asked.
If this was going to be the last night of her life, then Mira was determined to make it count. The demon was probably just toying with her. Maybe it was even impressed she had managed to summon it and was sating its curiosity before doing whatever was going to do. But if there was even the slightest chance, then…then…
Mira wiped her eyes on her sleeve, then curled her tiny hands into fists and cried, “I…I want you to stay!” Then added, “And never leave my side!”
The demoness drew back with a jolt, eyes widening. “W-What?” The demon didn’t look offended exactly. Just…confused. She shook her head, sending her braid dancing, put up a hand, and said, “No, no, that’s…that’s not how this works. You can’t just demand a pact like that, it’s…”
This was almost worse than if the demon had just killed her.
If anything, it looked like it just pitied her.
Mira sniffled as that cold knot of fear returned along with her father’s voice and the threat of what awaited her after another failure. She had actually managed to summon a powerful demon, and it wasn’t even going to do anything? All this and she was back where she started?!
Tears began burning behind her eyes, and the demoness’ eyes widened further as she seemed to actually panic. “W-Wait, wait, no, no, no, no, don’t…don’t cry!” She held out her hands placatingly. “I can…visit?”
Visit? What good would that do!? She would be eaten by Harong or worse! And even if she did manage to summon something to appease her father, wasn’t her whole life just going to be more of that?
And all she could think to do through tears and despair was cry, “Stay! I want you to stay!”
“I can’t do that,” the demoness said simply.
“STAY!”
The demoness sighed heavily, her head falling to the side in a weary slouch that was almost comically at odds with her regal appearance before saying, “But, don’t you have people? What about your family?”
The word ‘family’ came at the same moment that Mira’s highly sensitive ears picked up the distinctive tread of footsteps that always, always heralded more pain. He must have heard. He must have felt the wards buckle or something when Mira had summoned this demon. Something had tipped him off because he was coming.
There was a boom and thud against the locked doors to the summoning chamber. “MIRA!”
A wordless whimper escaped Mira’s lips as she threw herself at the only other source of comfort in the room, wrapping her arms around the silk-clad waist of the demoness. She clung there desperately, shaking as her father hammered against the door, then began rattling the lock.
“Please,” Mira pleaded, her face buried in silk. “I don’t want to be alone…”
For a moment, the only sounds in the room were her own whimpers and the sounds of her father coming to get her. To feed her to Harong like he always threatened. Like he always promised. Then, slowly and tentatively, a pair of arms looped around Mira to embrace her, and the demoness pulled Mira closer, hugging her tightly, and filling the air with the scent of sandalwood smoke. The pounding seemed more distant. The click and rattle of the lock seemed so far away.
And when the door opened and Mira tensed, huddling even deeper against the demoness than before, her father’s angry bellows were drowned out by two softly spoken and bitterly angry words.
“Stay down.”
Then the demoness exploded out of Mira’s arms, eclipsing the room with a grand shadow that smelled like an unhallowed shrine. Incense, beast-musk, blood, and other, less wholesome things assaulted Mira’s nose as she obeyed the demoness’ order. She stayed down.
When she heard her father call Harong to his side, Mira stayed down.
When Harong let out a sound between a primate screech and a human cry of agony, followed by a gristly crunching noise, Mira stayed down.
And when her father screamed…Mira stayed down.
Mira wasn’t sure how long it took the noise to stop, but eventually, the shrine-stink shadows receded, and a new, more comforting shadow fell over her followed by slender arms that ended in hands with tapered claws. The demoness hugged her from behind, still stinking of blood.
For the first time that Mira could remember in her young life, she really and truly relaxed. Because for the first time, she was safe. Something deep in her bones told her that she was safe. That her demon wouldn’t let any harm come to her. Even if it cost her soul, Mira thought that was a fair trade for feeling safe. It was the best feeling in the world.
“My name is Rumi,” the demoness said quietly. “And I won’t let anyone hurt you like that ever again. I promise.”
“M-My name…is M-Mira…”
“I promise, Mira.”
Mira looked up and over her shoulder into Rumi’s gleaming golden eyes. There were a few stray streaks of crimson on her face, but Mira ignored that. Rumi had protected her. Rumi would always protect her.
“Will you stay?” Mira asked weakly.
Rumi sighed, then said, “I’m sorry, you’re not strong enough to keep me here forever, and I have duties, but”—she brought a hand up as Mira started to argue and opened her palm—“I can leave you a part of me, so we can always stay in contact, and I’ll always know when you need me, okay?”
Frowning, Mira turned to look down at Rumi’s palm, and resting in it was a single jet black egg. Cautiously, Mira reached out to take it. It was warm in her hands, and a moment later it shuddered as if something within had just moved. Then it jerked, and bright white fractures crazed along its surface. Again and again, and more fractures followed, and Mira watched in rapt fascination as a little black beak broke through.
“C’mon,” Mira whispered. “You can do it…”
Several more pecks, and the shell broke, the top half peeling away to fall to the floor, revealing what looked, to Mira, like a small demonic magpie of all things. It had dark, striated feathers of black and grey, and its slightly distorted skull and neck bore three eyes on each side.
And something about its gaze was…different.
Mira frowned as she held it up to eye level, then she looked up at Rumi, who was smiling expectantly down at her. Mira didn’t want to sound ungrateful exactly, but…
“Is…is he supposed to look like that?”
Now it was Rumi’s turn to frown, looking between the bird and Mira for a moment before asking, “What do you mean?”
“He just seems kind of…” Mira held up the demonic magpie chick. It six eyes were somehow managing to convey a sense of boredom, mischief, and abiding amusement all at once. “Suspicious.”
Rumi chuckled. “He’ll watch over you, and his eyes will be mine. If you ever need me, just tell him, and he’ll know what to do, alright?”
“Alright.” Mira cradled her new familiar to her narrow chest, then looked up at Rumi. “Will I see you again?”
Rumi smiled down at her fondly, and nodded. “When you’re older, and you know better your own desires, we’ll make a true pact. Until then, remember…” Sandalwood smoke began pooling out from around the demoness, filling the air with its cloying scent as Rumi began to fade back into the underworld, “that you are mine.”
When she was gone, Mira was left alone save for her odd little familiar. Her father was gone, and there was only a few chaotic splatters of drying arterial crimson splashed around the door. There was no sign of the ape-like Harong, and Mira was grateful.
Holding her familiar carefully in its little half-egg, Mira smiled as she left the room, and the first time, went to bed unafraid of tomorrow.