Anastasia woke early.
For the first time since arriving in Malvor's ridiculous, ever-shifting realm, she didn't have to wander aimlessly to find the kitchen. It was there, waiting for her, as if the house had anticipated her needs.
She set to work, pulling out ingredients, assembling flavors, adding far too much to the drinks in front of her. Espresso shots, syrups, whipped cream, chocolate shavings, caramel drizzle—an absolute monstrosity of blended coffee creations.
When she finished, she took a step back, eyeing the drinks critically.
One for her.
One for him.
She hesitated for a moment before picking them up, walking out of the kitchen.
Pausing in the hall, she whispered, "Can you take me to Malvor?"
A door to her left swung open immediately.
She blinked. Of course.
A small light flickered next to her—quick, bright, almost… happy?
She exhaled a quiet chuckle. "Thank you, uh… house?"
The light blinked again.
Adorable.
Balancing both drinks in her hands, she knocked on the doorframe.
"Come in," Malvor's voice called, sickly sweet.
Then, in the same breath, like an absolute menace—
"Who is it?"
She rolled her eyes and stepped inside.
Malvor was lounging in his room, one arm draped over the back of an obnoxiously plush chair, looking far too relaxed for someone who had likely just woken up. His chesnut hair was tousled in a way that somehow managed to be effortlessly perfect, and he was already smirking before she had even spoken.
"I made you coffee."
Malvor raised a brow. "Oh. That's almost sweet of you, Annie honeybun. Maybe even useful."
He stretched leisurely before holding out his hand expectantly. "Let's see what you've done, then."
She hands him the coffee, watching as he took it with an air of lazy entitlement, like she had just fulfilled some grand duty.
"You have an absurd amount of coffee options," she said, shifting her own drink in her hand. "So I thought you would like something absurd."
Malvor hummed, lifting the cup to his lips. "Very astute and observant of you, Annie peach blossom."
Then, he took a sip.
And Oh, so good
The flavors hit him instantly. Sweet, rich, indulgent. A perfect mess of caramel, chocolate, espresso, and whatever other brilliant nonsense she had thrown into it. It should have been too much. It should have been overpowering.
It was, instead, perfect.
Exactly what he had wanted—without even knowing it.
Malvor blinked down at the drink, brows furrowing slightly.
Then, with an exhale, he leaned back into his chair, taking another long, thoughtful sip.
"Well," he murmured, tilting his head as he studied her over the rim of his cup. "Now that's just unfair."
"That is almost as delicious as you, Annie Snack-um," Malvor drawled, his voice sliding into a purr as he took another sip.
Anastasia gave him a look.
"Is this how you like your coffee?" he asked, amused.
"Yes," she admitted, taking a drink of her own. "I normally like to not taste my coffee."
Malvor grinned. "Delightful. My darling, you are purely delightful."
She exhaled slowly, setting her cup down before looking at him, her expression unreadable.
"Malvor, am I solely here for your entertainment? What was the purpose for you taking possession of me?"
He raised a brow, tilting his head slightly. "Did I have to have a reason?"
Anastasia considered that, then shrugged. "I guess not."
But Malvor, in a rare mood to indulge, decided to answer anyway.
"Honestly? I did it because the other eleven assholes wanted you."
Her brows lifted slightly. "You took me to piss them off?"
"Oh yes, Annie cupcake, I did." He sipped his coffee, exhaling happily. "The priest had promised you were worth it."
Anastasia hummed, thoughtful. "What did you pay?"
Malvor smirked, utterly self-satisfied. "The best thing I could imagine. I won't prank them for ten years."
She blinked, visibly surprised.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
Then, with a slow, wicked grin, he leaned forward. "But I did not tell them you wouldn't prank them."
Anastasia arched a brow. "Will that be my job?"
Malvor paused, tapping a finger against his chin.
"Hmm. Sometimes."
Malvor leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee like the most self-satisfied creature in existence.
"I actually don't have a job for you," he mused, watching her over the rim of his cup.
Anastasia gave him a long look.
"You are free to do what you want," he continued with a lazy wave of his hand, "unless I need you."
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "That sounds suspiciously like a trap."
Malvor grinned, tilting his head. "Darling Annie muffin, if it were a trap, you'd already be caught."
She took a slow sip of her coffee. "That's not as reassuring as you think it is."
"Oh, I wasn't trying to be reassuring." He winked. "I was trying to be charming."
Anastasia sighed.
Malvor beamed.
"Annie baby cakes, tell me more about you, beautiful."
Anastasia sighed, setting her cup down with deliberate care.
"My favorite color is purple and cyan blue," she said simply. "I look good in both colors."
Malvor smirked. "Obviously."
She ignored him. "The color of my eyes and hair are the colors I was born with. But I have no idea what parts of my body or face are natural. My body grew and developed under the influence of magic."
Malvor tapped a finger against his mug, watching her carefully.
Then, she added, "I went to each god's temple to get each set of runes. Apparently, they represent each of you."
His brow arched. "Oh really?"
"Yes." She took a sip of coffee before glancing at him. "Did any of them feel like you?"
Malvor debated his response.
He could refuse to answer.
He could spin some ridiculous, overly elaborate story that would tell her nothing but sound incredibly impressive.
Or…
He could tell the truth.
His eyes dropped to her ribs, the memory of those delicate, swirling runes carved into her skin flashing in his mind.
"The ones on your ribs," he said finally, his voice lower, thoughtful. "They were chaotic and beautiful."
Anastasia held his gaze. Silent.
For once, Malvor wasn't sure if she was waiting for him to say more.
Or if she already knew.
"Of course those are yours," Anastasia said, her tone almost amused.
Malvor tilted his head, studying her. "Oh? That certain, are we?"
She shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. "Did they feel different?"
Malvor drummed his fingers against the table, considering her question.
Had they felt different?
Yes.
No.
They felt like him.
The patterns had been wild, unpredictable yet deliberate. Chaos contained within something beautiful. A contradiction. A paradox.
"They felt..." he trailed off, then exhaled, eyes flicking back to hers. "Like home."
A strange silence settled between them.
Anastasia watched him carefully, as if reading between his words.
Malvor, for once, let her.
Malvor swirled his coffee absently, eyes locked on Anastasia with a predator's patience.
"So, Annie honey drop," he purred, "since we're in such a sharing mood, why don't you tell me more?"
She raised a brow, unimpressed. "About what?"
"Oh, I don't know… anything."* He leaned forward, grin sharp. "You keep so much to yourself, Annie pookie, and that's just tragic. I simply must fix it."
Anastasia sighed through her nose. "I already told you my favorite color, my favorite food, and about my runes. What else do you want?"
Malvor smirked. "Well, darling, what's something no one knows about you?"
Her fingers tapped idly against her coffee cup.
"No one?"
"No one," he confirmed.
She was quiet for a moment. Then, surprisingly, she answered.
"I like thunderstorms."
Malvor blinked.
"Really?"
She nodded, eyes distant. "The sound. The way the air changes. The way it feels… unpredictable."
Malvor grinned. "Oh, Annie starlight, are you telling me you enjoy chaos?"
She snorted softly, shaking her head. "I enjoy storms. You are not a storm."
"No, no, no, sweetheart, I beg to differ. I am exactly a storm—just far more charming and less wet."
Anastasia shot him a flat look. "You are exhausting."
"And yet," he mused, "you're still talking to me. Now, tell me more, Annie lovebug. Favorite season? Least favorite god? Weirdest dream?"
She gave him a look, but he only grinned wider, wiggling his fingers as if pulling the answers from her.
"Come now, Annie sugarplum, humor me."
"My least favorite god?" Anastasia considered for a moment. "Aerion. His runes hurt the most. They were deep. My entire right leg. They took a long time. That's my personal experience. His priests were all rude and arrogant."
She sighed, fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "From what I know, he is the same. Rude and arrogant."
Malvor burst into laughter, head tilting back as he slapped his knee.
"Oh gods, yes. He is insufferable," he cackled. "The man acts like he's been chiseled from divine marble and gifted to the world for all to admire. It's disgusting. He's all honor this and valor that—completely unbearable. He even polishes his own armor, Annie. His own armor."
Anastasia smirked slightly. "Sounds exhausting."
"It is," Malvor agreed, shaking his head dramatically before pointing at her. "See? You understand."
She rolled her eyes, but there was amusement in them.
"My favorite season? Summer. I love being outside in the evenings. But I do love spring and fall days."
She tilted her head slightly. "What about you?"
Malvor grinned, stretching like a lazy cat preparing for an elaborate answer.
"Ah, Annie-petal, that is a complicated question." He gestured vaguely, as if explaining the meaning of the universe. "You see, I prefer certain aspects of each season. I enjoy the chaos of winter storms, the unpredictability of ice and snow. But spring brings renewal, which can be amusing—watching mortals think they're getting a fresh start only to fall back into their same old patterns."
He tapped a finger against his chin, eyes bright with thought. "Summer? Overrated. But I will say, late summer nights? Perfect for trouble. And autumn? Well, autumn is a season of mystery. The air shifts, the days shorten, people grow more reckless—and recklessness, darling, is the perfect ingredient for chaos."
He took a sip of his coffee, looking far too pleased with himself.
Anastasia simply shook her head. "You could have just picked one."
"Ah, but where's the fun in that?"
She sighed and took another drink. "My weirdest dream? Like a sleeping dream or something I wish for?"
Malvor's smirk faltered at the unexpected question.
"Annie, my sweet, both dreams. What is the strangest one you've had while asleep… and your weirdest dream?"
Anastasia set her cup down. Her fingers rested lightly against the table, her posture as composed as ever. But there was something in her eyes—something older, something buried.
"When I was a little girl—about seven—I dreamed the exact same dream for months."
Malvor leaned forward slightly, intrigued despite the shift in the air.
"Every night, I would fall asleep. And in my dream, I would wake up in my bed."
Her voice was even. Too even.
"A shriveled, horrible monster would enter my room… and eat my legs. Starting with my feet."
Malvor's fingers tightened around his cup.
"I felt every single bite."
Her hands flexed once before going still again.
"He was slow. He chewed through my bones, gnawed the meat from my calves, stripped my thighs. It took hours. I would scream, cry, beg—but I could never move. My body wouldn't listen to me."
A shudder ran through her.
"The next morning, in my dream, I would wake up whole again. So I tried to tell my mother."
She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head.
"She would always smile and tell me he was our friend."
Malvor's stomach twisted.
"So one night, I hid behind the door. I waited."
Her fingers tapped lightly against the wood of the table, rhythmic, controlled.
"When he walked in, I jumped out."
A pause.
"He ran."
Malvor tilted his head.
"I was so excited. I ran to tell my mother what I had done, how I had scared him away."
Another breath.
"But when I walked into her room… he was there."*
Malvor stilled.
"Eating her legs."
Her voice didn't change, but something fractured beneath the words.
"I stood in the doorway. I watched as he crawled over her, eating his way up. Slowly. The same way he had eaten me. My mother turned her head toward me… and she smiled.
*"Her eyes were dead. Empty. She looked right at me and said, 'He is our friend.'"
Silence.
"Then she convulsed and died."