Hand in hand, guided by Annie with lullaby-soft patience, Lilith felt her way to the government office closest to Hero Street. She checked her horns and tail lay like sleeping serpents under the cloth, then pushed the frosted, half-lit glass door and slipped inside.
“By the way, doesn’t a pure glass door look weird for Morris’s architecture?” she blurted, a stray thought like a pebble in a stream.
Annie rapped her on the head, a crisp knock that sent the thought scattering, then turned back toward her inn and precious daytime sleep.
The Little White Dragon shuffled to a staffed window, small against the counter like a sparrow under a cliff. No line. She dropped onto the stool, craned her face up, trying to catch the employee’s eyes through the slot.
Annie, an innkeeper who worked the night like a moonlit tide, was gone. She’d led Lilith to the shore; the rest was on Lilith.
“Uh, excuse me, ma’am—could you stand up? I can’t quite see your face.” The Vampire behind the counter was nibbling a tiny blood pouch—candy-sized, a Vampire-only snack glinting like a ruby sweet. He looked up, saw no one, glanced down, and found a pale little head like a pearl on the sill. He cleared his throat, put on his service voice, and smoothed the moment like a hand over silk.
“Hmph. Your counters are way too tall!” Lilith stood, cheeks puffed like storm clouds. She glared at the Vampire and muttered, “What’s with the height? It’s not friendly to those of us whose inches got redistributed elsewhere.”
“My apologies. You’re absolutely right. I’ll report it.” He bowed and bent like bamboo in the wind, nearly going full kneel-and-apology with an imaginary katana. What he really thought was: whose kid came to raise a ruckus at City Hall? Where’s the guardian? Save me.
“So, ma’am, what can we help you with? ID application? Issue report? Aid request?” He didn’t want the hassle, but he kept his professionalism steady like a lantern.
“This. I need to hand it to whoever’s in charge.” Lilith pulled a document from her satchel, the seal like a coiled dragon pressed into wax. The city lord of Kalimdo had told her this proved her status as a messenger; the big shots would understand.
“Uh? Sorry, I need to confirm your clearance level. Otherwise the document must be reviewed…” He took the file. He’d assumed some noble brat had burned through their blood rations and sent a child to beg for snacks. He meant to shelve it and stall like dust on a ledger. Then he met her eyes—sapphire bright, bluer than the Star Canvas, with a vertical pupil not born of Vampires; dangerous, yet noble like a blade under moonlight. “You are…?”
“Kalimdo’s city lord told me to hand this to your person in charge.” Lilith let a thread of draconic pressure curl from her like smoke. “I don’t know which tier handles this. I’ve passed the message. How fast it gets done depends on who you call. Kalimdo’s in a hurry. If it gets delayed, that’s on you.”
“Please wait. I’ll contact the higher-ups now.” He clutched the file and half-ran, three steps into two, vanishing behind the counter like a shadow in a slit.
Lilith dropped back on the stool. The counter towered over her like a stone cliff, and heat pricked under her skin. The Little White Dragon had had enough; she lifted a small leg and kicked the stone lip.
Her smooth shin smacked the edge; pain bloomed like a thistle. She grabbed her calf, tumbled off the chair, and bonked her head on the counter with a hollow thud—stars like fireflies burst behind her eyes. Hugging her head, she curled beneath the counter, a sobbing lump of night.
A black, squirming dumpling under the window—Hero Street found a new legend that day.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” The Vampire didn’t take long—only minutes. He returned to see his guest’s face clouded like a brewing storm. Remembering how small she looked and how high her status stood, he wiped cold sweat as if brushing rain from his brow and offered a cautious smile. “I’ve received approval from above. Please follow me. I’ll take you to meet the one in charge.”
“Mm. That’s more like it.” Lilith swiped a tear at her waist with a quick flick, her voice muffled like cloth.
Thinking she was still upset, he dared not dawdle. He opened the side door and led the Little White Dragon upstairs, steps quick as drumbeats.
They reached the second floor, passed a wooden statue whose features hid in grain and shadow, then stepped into a cramped elevator—bronzed iron bars and the smell of machine oil, like old gears chewing on time. Lilith’s mind flashed back to horror RPGs from another life; the man beside her felt less like a humble Vampire bowing and more like a butcher in red long johns swinging a scythe.
Worse than those thoughts, the elevator roared—an iron thunder that battered the ears like an air raid over Iwo Jima. Spuiset ran on magic like a river of light; where had they dredged up an engine this loud?
Maybe they’d built a diesel generator already?
Before she could unwind the mystery of the noise, the elevator clanked to its highest stop. She escaped the roar and followed the Vampire out.
Beyond the gate lay a luxurious corridor, rich as velvet. She felt yanked from a medieval chain lift to a 21st-century five-star hallway—oil lamps becoming chandeliers like starlight woven into gold. At the far end stood a wide, heavy door like a slab of night. Lilith glanced at the Vampire, her eyes asking what laired behind that wood.
“Behind that door is our person in charge. Sadly, I can only go this far. Please, go on.” He stopped by the elevator, palm extended like a leaf showing the path.
Lilith walked the soft wool carpet alone, mind snagging on the candle-lit chandelier above—would a spark fall like a firefly, kiss the rug, and turn this building into a bonfire?
The corridor was short. Her runaway blaze never left imagination; the door reached her first.
She pushed the heavy panel—disappointment a small sigh—and entered a room that dimmed to twilight.
Her eyes hadn’t adjusted when a figure taller than her drifted in from behind, swift as a shadow. A hand tugged down her hood, peeling night from her hair, and her horns gleamed like crescent blades.
The Little White Dragon lifted her head, dazed, and met a pair of crimson gems.
“Hello, young little dragon.”
The silver-haired woman smiled, a winter moon warming the frost.
