Wait.

  Rare?!

  And… the High Temple Guardian position didn’t even exist a minute ago!

  “Dhriti,” I said, letting her name linger like I was about to decree her fate or something equally dramatic. “I have a favor to ask of you. For my… plan to work, I need to do something in this room. Do you know how often the grandmasters visit?”

  I started walking toward the obelisk, trying to make each step look deliberate, queenly… graceful but commanding. Basically, I was mimicking Irwen. Hopefully, it looked more “authority” than “cosplayer on a convention stage.”

  The obelisk loomed with the runes carved into its rosy marble were alive, pulsing rhythmically. The faint red glow from them painted my skin with a sheen, throwing shadows that made the chamber feel narrower than it was.

  Dhriti’s eyes widened, following me like I was a holy vision. Then she dropped into a bow. “I know this,” she blurted in a reverent voice. “They joked between themselves don’t need to come this month anymore. They checked on the stone because of Neel yesterday. At least that is what I heard, my queen.”

  Good. No surprise visitors while I was poking at soul?eating marble death magic.

  I turned just enough for her to catch my grin before I faced the obelisk again, studying the runes. They weren’t random scribbles. Each one coiled toward the floor, like shackles feeding power into some unseen chain beneath my feet. The glow hummed faintly in my ears; the vibration crawled up through my heels into my bones.

  “Very well,” I said, still facing the obelisk, because talking to people while pretending to be mysterious and all?knowing apparently required not looking at them. “Before we create our kingdom, nothing changes. Can you guard as before? Meanwhile, I will start what I need to do.”

  Her reply came without hesitation, firm and almost proud. “Queen, you saved my life. That changed. Of course, I will guard this place and report directly to you!” She said in a tone as if she’d been waiting her whole life to say that line.

  “Thank you,” I replied simply, because if I kept talking, I’d probably ruin the moment with sarcasm.

  She closed the heavy door behind her; the sound echoed through the chamber like the sealing of a tomb.

  Back to the task.

  If I wanted to blow up the stone, first I needed to understand exactly what I was working with. Ugh, that meant examining runes. Magic runes. My absolute favorite thing… right after being enslaved and chased through sewer tunnels.

  I crouched near the massive rosy-marble base of the binding stone, tracing the glowing runes with my fingertips. They hummed faintly, sending prickling vibrations through my skin. The magic felt thick, as though I were trying to push my hand through mud.

  Fantastic, I hate mud. I was going to blow up a magical superglue rock.

  Brilliant idea, Charlie.

  I stepped back and tried to trace the path of runes visually, squinting hard enough that my eyes watered. Each rune connected seamlessly to the next, all of them sinking into the marble floor like blood vessels beneath pale skin, pulsing softly with their sickly red light.

  Why did everything in this city have to look and feel so damn creepy?

  I sighed and started pacing, walking along the room’s perimeter to roughly gauge the dimensions. Step by awkward step, my heels echoed sharply off the stone walls, filling the chamber with a rhythmic click-click-click. After completing a full circuit, I paused and stared blankly at the floor.

  Wait. Damn it. Was I counting steps? I’d already forgotten the number. This was why I’d sucked at geometry in school. And physics. And… most things involving numbers.

  With a frustrated groan, I went around again, this time mouthing numbers out loud like some dungeon-crawling idiot trying not to lose track of their XP.

  “Twenty-one... twenty-two... twenty-three...”

  After two more slow, methodical circuits of counting and re-counting, the shape of the summoning circle took blurry form in my mind. I scowled at the floor as if it were the reason for my struggle. Of course, there would be math involved in designing a summoning circle.

  Magical demonic math… because regular math wasn’t torturous enough.

  I squatted in the middle of the room, frowning, my skirt bunching uncomfortably beneath me as I mentally sketched out imaginary circles. Based on my extremely precise step-based measurements, sarcasm fully intended, this chamber might actually be big enough. Barely. Like, “one misplaced line and demons explode out of control and devour everyone” kind of barely.

  Exactly my style.

  “I swear, Cloudy,” I muttered to the empty chamber, “if I explode because of your stupid summoning math, I’m haunting you for eternity.”

  Great. Now I was talking to system-entities again. Totally reassuring.

  With another annoyed sigh, I straightened, dusting nonexistent dirt off my outfit. Time to go find some chalk, a tape measure, and someone smarter than me to double-check my math before I unleashed literal hell.

  Well… first I needed that circle from Mom. Speaking of the Queen… was it ten minutes yet?

  To pass the time, I paced slowly around the stone, visualizing the runes all around the room. The summoning circle itself was easy; ingrained deep enough into my memory that I could probably draw it blindfolded. Yay me, memorizing demon doodles. Such an exceptional skill on my resume.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  In the blink of an eye, I was back at our castle. This time, Mom’s doing. Of course, we ended up in her favorite tea room… delicate porcelain cups, floral motifs everywhere, and the faint smell of something elven drifting through the air like an overly polite ghost.

  I had to try my new skill on Mom.

  “Of course she’s already at the level cap…” I muttered under my breath. Because of course she was.

  “I’ve found it, Charlie,” she said, offering me a genuinely warm smile.

  I sipped the tea, pleasantly surprised. Damn, was this honey and something lemony? So good. My gaze shifted to the scroll in her hand. “So… do you usually keep demon magic just casually lying around?”

  “Charlie…” She narrowed her eyes. “What did I say about sarcasm?” She lightly thwacked me over the head with the scroll… right on my perfectly arranged hair! Okay, it didn’t hurt, but it still made me jump. I shot her a glare, but she effortlessly slid back into regal-queen mode, calm and utterly unbothered.

  Damn, one day I’ll master that queenly stare-down. Today’s clearly not that day.

  Mom gently placed the scroll on the table between us, eyeing me closely. “Before I hand this to you, exactly how do you plan to do it? And how much do you even know about demon runes?”

  “Hmmm… I actually know plenty of runes, just not always… their official names. I was trying to find… flaws?” I said, attempting to explain my finely honed art of exploiting. Mom’s doubtful expression deepened. “Look, it’s simple. I’ll summon the demon prince of pain, lure the grandmasters near the stone, and then bang… big demon, big chaos, grandmasters go poof.”

  Irwen’s carefully maintained persona cracked into open shock. “Charlie, please tell me that’s not your entire plan.”

  “Uh… maybe I’ll politely ask him to wreak havoc?” I shrugged, trying my best innocent expression. “There are of course a lot of cogs in that plan, my entire army to be honest, but this is my queen’s gambit. Prince will summon demons who’ll fight everyone, chaotic free-for-all style. Demons from over there aren’t exactly organized, y’know? Unlike yours.”

  She closed her eyes, visibly summoning the strength to deal with my nonsense. Her voice grew strained. “Charlie. They’re not my demons. I… just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  I waved a dismissive hand. “Sure. As careful as anyone playing with demon runes can be. Can’t possibly end worse than foot magic… y’know, that whole magic that got me into Rimelion.”

  With a sigh heavy enough to sink a fleet, she nudged the tea away, carefully unrolling the scroll across the table. There they were: three intricately etched circles, each lined with runes in dizzying patterns. It looked like demonic math homework. Probably had a logic to it, but who cared? That stuff was for magic nerds.

  “Then tell me, Charlie,” Mom said sternly, pointing at the first set of runes. “What is this?”

  I squinted at the complex symbols. Okay, Charlie, deep breath. You know these. Well… sorta. “That’s, uh…” I hesitated, racking my brain. The rune was tall, thin, and looked almost… graceful? Right, like the handle of those fancy cocktail spoons. “Bar-spoon rune,” I declared confidently in my head. Out loud, I said, “That one’s the elegant stirring rune, used to direct energy carefully.”

  She gave me a puzzled look, but continued anyway, pointing to another cluster. “And these here?”

  Those were angular and sturdy. Looked like the legs of that cheap, uncomfortable stool Patrick used to torture customers who overstayed closing time. “That’s… the wobbly stool rune,” my mind supplied. “Uh, the rune of instability and disruption,” I clarified aloud, smiling like the well-versed student I wasn’t.

  Her eyes narrowed further, clearly trying to find fault in my description but failing to do so. Instead, she tapped a rune in the middle, round and soft-edged, almost bubbly looking. That was an easy one… totally a beer coaster. “Ah, the absorbent coaster rune—”

  “What?” She raised an eyebrow sharply.

  Oops. I waved quickly, covering it up with a cough. “I mean the rune of containment and absorption. Obviously.”

  Irwen stared at me for a long moment, suspicion and confusion battling across her usually composed face. “Charlie, show me how you would draw these.”

  With a dramatic sigh, I grabbed a nearby piece of paper, scribbling the runes swiftly and precisely. Each rune flowed effortlessly from memory, my hand surprisingly steady. Honestly, I was pretty impressed with myself.

  Mom examined my drawings, her eyes flicking rapidly between them and the scroll. Her shoulders slowly relaxed as she realized I’d replicated them perfectly. Despite my ridiculous naming method, she couldn’t actually fault me.

  “Charlie,” she finally sighed. “You’ve memorized them flawlessly.”

  “I did?” I blinked innocently, letting a bit of smugness creep into my voice. “Oh, yeah. Obviously. What did you expect?”

  Her face fell into her palm, muffling another sigh. “Just promise me again, Charlie… be careful.”

  I saluted her playfully. “Yes, Mom. No accidental apocalypses.”

  She handed me the scroll, resigned. “Please.”

  “Relax,” I said, rolling it up casually. “I’ve totally got this.”

  Her face told me she was anything but relaxed. But hey, at least one of us could pretend, right?

  “So… I can just take these from this place? That sounds suspiciously like teleporting, which isn’t allowed.” I eyed the scroll as if it were going to bite me. “Won’t Clo—uh, the system get mad?”

  Irwen gave me one of those cool, casual, queenly looks that said she’d already considered every outcome three times over. “I can give you small things. Basically, anything that doesn’t have mana and is small. The rules…” she tilted her head, pausing like she was digging through centuries of memories, “weren’t as defined as they are now.”

  My eyes widened. “Wait… I can ask you for money?” I couldn’t help it; the giggle just burst out.

  Her gaze sharpened instantly… the infamous mom look I never got until now. “How much do you need?”

  My giggling turned into nervous laughter. “I don’t!” I blurted, hands up like I was under arrest. “I stole enough for my plan.”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Stole? Charlie?”

  Oh, there it was. The tone that could kill kingdoms. I panicked. “Uhm…” My gaze darted around like an idiot. I pretended to spot something extremely important in the distance. “Look at the time! I have to go!”

  Before she could say another word, I did exactly what she taught me… willed myself out of the tearoom and back into the creepy marble chamber. Like a coward, but with style.

  Half-expecting her to summon me back for a royal scolding, I braced myself. When she didn’t, I exhaled in relief; the tension leaving my shoulders.

  And then… guilt hit. Because I loved that.

  The little spark of warmth from her fussing at me, worrying over me… it made me feel like a kid who actually belonged somewhere. Like I wasn’t just pretending to be someone’s daughter. Bad foster homes tend to do that to people.

  With tears stinging my eyes, I blinked them away and focused on the here and now. I unrolled the scroll with trembling fingers, staring at its runes as I glanced around the chamber.

  Okay. No time for feelings.

  Time to figure out how to turn this into my very own demon-infested boom-room.