Chapter 1: A New Hell at Home
"Loona. Hey, Loony-Toons—mind sparing me a sec?"
Loona didn't even look up from her phone, slouched sideways in the worn-out couch of their apartment with her feet kicked up and earbuds blaring static-laced death metal. She gave Blitzø a sharp side-eye over the screen.
"Make it quick, Blitz. I'm not in the mood for your latest 'family bonding' speech."
The imp scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Yeah, not that. Listen… uh, so you know how things have been kinda... y'know, great with me and Stolas lately?"
Loona's expression darkened slightly. "What, you finally getting bent over a royal bed instead of the office desk?"
"Ha! That's the spirit," Blitzø forced a chuckle, waving off her usual acerbic tongue. "Point is—I'm moving out. Me and Stolas are taking the next big, horny step."
Loona blinked. Slowly sat up. "Wait, what?"
"I'm outta here in a week." He gestured around the room like he was showing off a condo on some demonic real estate show. "Which means... yeah, this place is all yours. Kinda."
"Kinda?" Her voice went flat, heavy with suspicion.
"Yeah, so... uh. Rent's still due. And the utilities. And, uh… y'know, the giant dent in the wall from that time you threw your phone. Landlord says that's a structural hazard now." Blitzø listed off casually. "You can't afford this place on your own."
Loona's lip curled. "You want me to find a roommate?"
Blitzø took a half step back, his smile nervous. "It's either that or get another job, and stop drinking away half your paycheck."
"Die in a dumpster," she replied, deadpan.
"That's the spirit!" he chirped, already halfway toward the door. "Good luck!"
A week later, the apartment was quieter. Too quiet.
Loona lay sprawled across her bed, headphones in, glaring at the cracks in the ceiling. Blitzø's absence had been noticeable in the worst ways—no spontaneous yelling, no badly cooked breakfasts, no chaos. Just silence. And a whole lot of bills.
She was halfway through another warm beer when a sharp knock echoed from the front door.
She considered ignoring it. But the rent was late. Curiosity and debt were hellish motivators.
Dragging herself up, she yanked the door open—and froze.
The man standing there didn't look like he belonged in Hell.
Tall, clean, and ridiculously... normal-looking, he wore a simple dark coat over a gray tunic that shimmered faintly in the dim light. His eyes were piercing gold, though they were softened by something Loona wasn't used to seeing down here—genuine kindness.
"Hi," he said with a warm smile. "I am Mikael. I heard you were looking for a roommate?"
She blinked. "You lost, or just stupid?"
"Neither, I hope." He looked past her shoulder into the apartment, noticing the mess. "May I come in?"
"No," she snapped instinctively.
Behind her, another familiar voice chimed in. "Yo! Mikael! You made it!"
Loona turned to see Blitzø strolling in from behind the stranger, carrying a small box of miscellaneous crap. He gave her a grin. "Told ya I'd find someone."
"You know this guy?" she growled.
"Yup. He helped me help Stolas with some magic stuff a while back. He's cool."
"Cool doesn't mean I want some glowing-eyed freak in my house."
"I can pay rent up front," Mikael offered calmly, holding out a wad of cash.
"Go to hell," Loona snapped.
"Loony," Blitzø warned, "Be reasonable"
"I don't want a roommate!" Loona shouted in his face.
"Two months up front," Mikael said, a picture of calm, doubling the amount of cash he was dangling in front of Loona's face.
"See! The man's loaded!" Blitzø exclaimed triumphantly.
Loona stared. Blinked again. Her instinct was to say no. To push them both out and lock the door forever. But the rent was overdue. And she hadn't worked a full shift in days.
"You touch anything in my room," she said slowly, "and I'll tear your kidneys out through your nose."
Mikael bowed his head slightly. "Understood."
She narrowed her eyes and snatched the money, pocketing it. "And don't talk to me. Or look at me. Or—breathe too loudly."
"I'll try not to."
Blitzø clapped his hands. "Perfect! You two are gonna get along great. I'm out."
Later that night, Loona stood in the living room, glaring around the small space.
It was clean.
Not just "picked up"—clean. The couch cushions were fluffed. The floor was swept. The sink, which had been a war zone of rotting leftovers and grimy glasses, now sparkled.
Something smelled… good.
She turned the corner and saw Mikael at the stove, stirring something in a pot. The table was set. There was beer on it. Cold.
He noticed her and gave a small nod. "Dinner, if you want."
She stared at him.
Then at the plate.
Then back at him.
"Don't try to impress me," she snapped.
"I'm not," he said simply. "You had a long day. You need to eat."
Loona clenched her jaw. "You don't know anything about my day."
"I'm sure it was difficult."
Something in his tone wasn't condescending. It wasn't pity, either. It was just... true.
"I didn't ask for your help," she muttered.
"I know."
He turned back to the stove, gently ladling soup into a bowl. She hovered a moment longer, then grabbed the beer and retreated to her room without another word.
In her room, Loona flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling again. Only now, the silence felt different.
She hated that.
Outside her door, she could hear the soft scrape of a chair. The clink of dishes being washed. The hum of a man who didn't belong here—and didn't seem to care.
Later in the night when Mikael retreated into his room he knelt beside his bed, his head bowed. No words spoken aloud—just silent thought, silent ritual he was accustomed to. From beneath his shirt, a faint light pulsed against his skin, like a heartbeat made of stars.
The room was humble. Sparse. But not cold.
Mikael placed something on the dresser. An orb of glass, shimmering softly like the argent moonlight had been trapped in its centre.
Loona lay on her side, clutching her pillow.
"I don't need anyone," she whispered into the dark.
But even she didn't quite believe it.