Nujah-The Goddess Child

> Nujah burst into the throne room.

"Alright, Mother—what's this important news?"

Naraka didn't look up from her glowing orb until a moment later. Then she turned to him slowly.

"Erymas. You remember him, I assume."

Nujah scoffed. "Forget him? Impossible. I thought we'd closed that chapter. After me, he was the most promising of us."

Naraka cut in, her voice cold and factual.

"Erymas was a good soldier—no denying that.

But the only real reason he stayed by my side… was obsession.

He admired my power to the point of madness. In the end, he lost himself—became a mindless beast worshipping strength."

She paused, then added with disdain,

"He even went as far as trying to make a pact with Elyka."

"And you know," she continued, "he wasn't the only one.

Others think the same way.

They're just lying to themselves, pretending they're better.

But if someone doesn't intervene now… their fate will be no different than his."

> Nujah stepped in, his voice firm but not defiant.

"You know I'd do anything for you, Mother.

But you also know—I'm no psychologist.

I care about the Shiora people, I do… but I can't even remember half their surnames.

And I have no idea what's happened over the last ten years.

You've seen me—back and forth between this throne room and Mitra's prison. That's all I've known."

> Naraka sighed.

"This has to be dealt with—before it spreads further.

And with everything on my plate, it won't be me.

I'm sealing the door. For a long time. No one gets through. Not by any means."

> Nujah nodded slowly, but his voice tightened.

"Then… who takes control?

What if Elyka makes another move? What if she pulls some filthy trick again? What do we do then?"

> Naraka exhaled again, her gaze sharpening.

"Mitra can handle most of it. The girl's strong enough to kill even her, if it came to that."

Nujah snapped, voice rising with conviction:

"No."

"She just came out of a war. One against herself."

> Naraka waved her hand dismissively, rubbing her temple.

"Alright, alright... Fine.

Your brothers' punishment ends tomorrow — they'll deal with the internal military mess.

But today, I need you to handle a few leftover Erymas wannabes.

I doubt you'd enjoy it, but someone has to.

As for security — Herinhard Vercurius will cover it."

She raised her hand and snapped her fingers.

"Now go. Bye-bye, my son."

> Before Nujah could protest, a surge of force hurled him out of the throne room.

He hadn't even hit the ground when the door vanished entirely — all entries sealed tight.

Then, for a split second, a shimmer appeared in the air.

A piece of paper fluttered out and slapped him in the face.

He peeled it off, sighed, and read:

> Lightward – Standard Soldier Group (particularly unstable):

1. Thirel Mosven – Location: Usually found near the archery training grounds.

2. Liora Anvesh – Location: Wanders into dark corners to drink alone. Covert activity suspected.

> Special Group – Hand of Naraka:

Eris Thalven – Location: Relaxing in the park designed for the Maria Elves.

> **If you handle these three, that's more than enough.

Then you can rest, sweetheart. ❤️

With love,

Mom."

> Nujah folded the paper carefully, though his jaw was tight with frustration, and slipped it into his coat pocket.

He decided to start with the hardest one first.

Before heading out, he pulled on a black tunic —

the kind that would help him blend in.

It had been a long time since he walked among the people, especially after the injury.

Moving slowly and unnoticed, he slipped into Maria Park.

His identity hidden, he scanned the area for Eris Thalven.

She was supposed to be there —

short red hair, tired eyes, crimson armor — probably napping on a bench.

He transformed into a crow, gliding silently between tree branches until he spotted her.

Just as expected:

Lying across a bench, whistling softly with her eyes closed.

Without warning, he reappeared beside her —

"Hey," he said with a grin.

Eris, lounging comfortably just a second ago, fell straight off the bench, shrieking:

"N— Nu... Nujah?! Sir?!

What are you doing here?! I thought you were supposed to be resting!"

Nujah replied, his tone calm but faintly amused:

"I heard you were in rough shape.

I figured I'd come check in on you."

> Eris, still blushing with a strange mix of joy and shame, quickly stood up and grabbed Nujah's hand to help him.

"You should be resting, sir.

You shouldn't be sitting around with some overthinking soldier."

> Nujah pulled his hand back, voice flat and commanding.

"Sit."

"And don't speak unless I say you can. Understood?"

> Eris obeyed instantly, dropping back onto the bench and miming locking her lips.

Nujah felt a flicker of discomfort but ignored it, refocusing as he took a seat beside her again.

> "Eris... I've come here from something very important.

Specifically—for your issue.

And I'll be honest: it's not good."

"Even our mother might not be able to solve it easily."

He glanced around, voice lowering.

"Keep this between us.

Yes, the rumors are true—I was healed.

I came back from death.

But there's something worse."

"Now, I'm going to ask you a question.

And you're going to give me an answer."

> Eris looked like she might break from the pressure.

Her breathing quickened, eyes darting—until, suddenly, one of the cats from Maria Garden leapt onto her lap.

> She let out a small gasp, then began to pet it instinctively.

The tension melted off her shoulders as she focused on the soft fur, grounding herself.

When she looked back at Nujah, her gaze was steady—if still fragile.

> Nujah leaned slightly closer.

"Two sentences. Seven words."

"Think carefully."

"What's the problem?"

> Eris opened her mouth to lie.

But she stopped.

She knew he'd see right through it.

> So instead, she told the truth—softly, quietly:

> "Sir… I don't see much hope in life.

I'm truly glad you survived.

But for us—at least for me—

I don't see much of a future."

Nujah summoned a paper made of light —

it formed in his hand as he turned his head and began to read.

---

📜

Eris Thalven:

Twelve years ago, she arrived through the Dream — one of the fastest-ranking soldiers.

She reached Lightward in her first year, and by her second, she had already earned the rank of Hand of Naraka.

One of the very best…

Nujah read aloud softly, a flicker of emotion in his voice.

"Hah. That's it? That's all?"

"For a soldier who advanced that fast...

Well, never mind. Doesn't matter."

He turned away, then asked casually:

"Let's not name it… but did you see it yourself?"

Eris nodded regretfully.

"Unfortunately… yes, sir."

Nujah tilted his head.

"What do you think of the curse?"

Eris answered quickly:

"I don't want to think about it at all, sir."

Nujah sighed, this time more heartfelt.

"Ah… I'll answer for you, then: terrifying, vile, monstrous… blah blah.

But in the end, it's nothing more than a rabid dog.

I stood against something even my siblings couldn't hold back."

(He smiled proudly.)

"If Mother hadn't shown up, we'd probably have gone another hundred years."

Eris listened in silence, attentively.

Nujah continued:

"Look, I don't know what kind of ideas you've been forming in that head of yours…

but answer me seriously—

Would you ever want to become a Serekhka?"

Eris responded immediately, her voice low but firm:

"No, sir. I'd rather die."

Nujah nodded slowly.

"Accepting darkness and loving it are two different things.

If you accept it, you'll be stronger when the time comes.

But if you love it…

you become it.

And worse—

you become something mindless."

A pause.

Then he asked:

"Do you have any friends?"

Eris answered without hesitation:

"No, sir."

"Why not?" Nujah asked again.

"Before I left, the soldiers in this place were like spirits. Like Maria.

What are they now—brutes?"

Eris finally spoke, her voice restrained but honest:

"After you left… Mother focused most of her attention on you.

Meanwhile, soldiers were dying and wounded.

It caused problems.

Some hardened.

Some shut down.

They turned inward, sir."

Nujah lowered his eyes, a look of both sadness and guilt crossing his face.

"And what about you?" he asked.

Eris took a breath.

"I saw what you did.

I saw how you stopped that curse, sir.

From the tower.

There's no way I could hate you.

You're worth more than any of us.

After everything you sacrificed…

Even thinking about opposing you felt disgusting."

Nujah sat beside her, more softly now.

"So… you've spent all your rest time here, alone?"

Eris nodded.

"Yes, sir."

He glanced around, then asked, genuinely curious:

"Isn't there anyone you can talk to? Someone who asks how you're doing?"

Eris gave a tired laugh.

"The animals here are more than enough, sir."

Nujah looked at her carefully.

"Do you trust me?"

"Enough to sacrifice yourself if I asked?"

Eris stared at him, confused at first by the question—

but then nodded seriously.

"I don't know where that came from," she said.

"But yes, of course, sir.

I think most of us would."

Nujah smiled, gently taking her hand.

"Well then…"

> "Would you like to be friends with my daughter, Mitra?"

"She may be mischievous… but inside, she's just like Maria.

That same kindness."

"And before you say anything—yes.

I was the one who told her to drive that sword through.

So if you're angry, be angry at me.

All of that… it was my doing."

He leaned back slightly, chuckled.

"Ugh. I've talked too much again.

So? What's your answer?

I won't be upset if you say no."

Eris hesitated, then smiled faintly.

> "I kind of want to say no…

not because I don't like her, but because I'm lazy.

Still… I'll say yes."

She stood up.

"I don't really care about the rumors anymore.

What matters to me is that you see her as your daughter.

That's enough."

"And besides…

our Mother accepted her publicly.

There aren't many soldiers who'd dare go against that."

Nujah, overwhelmed with emotion, pulled her into a brief hug.

A tear escaped his eye.

Eris blinked, startled.

"Sir! I didn't mean it in a bad way—"

"I know," Nujah whispered.

Then pulled back slightly, regaining composure.

With a snap of his fingers, they appeared before the holding chamber.

Inside, Mitra was sprawled on the floor, asleep with an open book.

Nujah raised a finger, motioning for Eris to stay silent.

Then—he launched a firework through the bars.

The moment the sound hit, Mitra jolted awake and screamed:

> "FatheRrRrRt!!"

She didn't even move—just ducked in place, arms over her head,

as if avoiding some incoming magical blast.

Nujah collapsed to the ground, laughing.

As the sparkles faded, Mitra stood up, still trembling.

> "I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow," she mumbled.

"And who's that behind you?

Did you adopt a new kid while I was asleep?"

Nujah narrowed his eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Mitra giggled, then asked seriously:

"So… what'd you come here for?"

Without answering, Nujah snapped his fingers again—

and Eris was flung gently inside the cell.

> "She's your new bunkmate now."

Eris crossed her arms, calm but clearly uneasy.

"This wasn't part of the agreement…"

Nujah turned to them both.

"I'll be back in two days.

I'll cook your meals myself once I'm done with my errands."

He snapped his fingers one last time—

and suddenly, inside the prison, a small pond appeared.

Flower beds. Peaceful elements scattered gently around them.

> "Have fun, you two troublemakers."

Eris muttered under her breath,

"Wait—this is too sudden…"

But Nujah was already gone.

Moments later, a glowing paper drifted from the sky

and landed in Mitra's hands.

It read:

---

> "Her name is Eris Thalven.

She's a big fan of yours—

though don't let her know I told you.

She's very shy.

I hope you become good friends. ❤️

—Love, Dad."

As Mitra finished reading, the paper dissolved completely.