of the road, with its crumpled paper wings shining in the bright autumn sun.

“No!” Mathilde kicked and squirmed in Nana’s grip. There was a crowd of people standing around now. A row of stopped cars backed up on either side of the street.

“Cover him up!” Mathilde screamed. She tore her own robe trying to get away. “He needs dark! He needs the dark!”

“Mathilde!” Nana shouted. Mathilde ran to the little body and kneeled over it, trying to give him some shade.

“Ix’thor!” Mathilde sobbed. “Please!”

NO! The little Dark Lord reached one hand toward Mathilde’s tears. THIS … CANNOT … BE. I AM … IN … VINCIBLE …

*   *   *

“But demons are pretty strong, right?” Father said. “You said they’re almost impossible to kill.”

“Dark Lords are weaker in direct sunlight.” That was the old man from the demon store, with his checked shirt and big, round glasses. “Much weaker. I’m sorry. I did all I could.”

Mathilde sat in the dark of her room. She wondered when they would realize she could hear them through the door.

She wondered if she’d be that stupid when she was a grown-up.

“I’ll talk to her,” Nana said. “It’s my fault that this happened.”

“No,” Mother said. “I’ll do it.”

The door cracked open. It was the only light in the room.

“Matty?” Mother looked around. “Are you in there?”

“You can turn the light on,” Mathilde said from her bed. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Mother closed the door behind her and turned up the lights just a little bit.

“His tower fell down,” Mathilde said. “In his cage. I tried to prop it back up, but it just kept crumbling.”

“Oh, sweetie!” Mother sat down on the bed and pulled Mathilde into her lap. Mathilde squeezed her eyes shut. All the tears she had left were hiding in her throat, making a lump.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Mother said. “There was nothing anyone could have done.”

Mathilde thought of Becky, but if it made Mother feel better to think so, then she wasn’t going to argue.

“If…” Mother trailed off and tried again. “Father and I were talking to Nana. When you’re ready, if you still want one…”

“I don’t want a pony,” Mathilde said. “I want Ix’thor. But I can’t have him back, can I?”

Mother looked like she was about to cry. “No. I’m sorry.”

Mathilde snuggled into her mother’s arms. Mother did cry then, a little. After a while, Mathilde looked up.

“Then … can I get a pony with glowing red eyes, and crush the skulls of my enemies beneath his flaming hooves?”

Mother laughed a little and kissed Mathilde’s forehead. “We can find one with glowing eyes, if you want.”

Mathilde sighed into her mother’s embrace, listening to her heartbeat. “It’s a start.”

Copyright (C) 2013 by Aaron Corwin

Art copyright (C) 2013 by Chris Buzelli

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