Ciliren would never have imagined she'd end up living in a place like the Refuge. Even after months of living there, she still didn't quite know how to describe it. It was a strange and mysterious place, almost unnatural, and at the same time, profoundly fascinating. A place where freedom was, undoubtedly, limited by clear rules and defined spaces… but where, paradoxically, everyone seemed to lead a life overflowing with comforts that most could only dream of.

  The food was delicious, plentiful, and incredibly varied. The overall temperature was always perfect, neither the harshness of the cold nor the oppressive heat. Hot water flowed with just the turn of a handle, light appeared at the touch of a button, and even the toilets were obediently cleaned by a simple lever.

  To her, all of this seemed more fitting for a palace belonging to very powerful and wealthy nobles… and that's not even mentioning the countless fantastical gadgets that made daily life absurdly easy.

  When Ciliren learned that she and the other four demihuman women would be responsible for cleaning and childcare, she immediately assumed the work would be exhausting, repetitive, and unrewarding. Although that was something they had prepared for.

  The reality, however, was quite different. While dealing with a huge number of children could be chaotic at times—especially when they all seemed to conspire to run, shout, or make a mess at the same time—the truth was that most of the heavy lifting didn't fall on them. Many of the more intensive tasks were performed by curious contraptions called appliances, capable of washing, drying, and cleaning with almost magical efficiency. The hardest part, in fact, was learning how to use them without breaking them.

  As time went on, Ciliren even began attending several of the classes for children. There she started learning that strange language called English, a language completely unknown to her, but absolutely necessary to access the best the Refuge had to offer: entertainment.

  Every night, a couple of hours before bedtime, all the inhabitants could gather in the enormous main hall located in the center of the complex. There stood the spectacular magic screens, smooth surfaces that came to life and displayed fantastic stories.

  They were similar to the plays she had once enjoyed in her homeland… but taken to an impossible level of realism, as if one weren't watching a performance, but witnessing the events with their own eyes. The only drawback was that everyone spoke English.

  The first time Ciliren looked through those screens, she was so impressed that she didn't even care that she didn't understand a single word. She simply watched, completely absorbed, marveling at the colors, the movements, and the fantastical nature of each scene.

  It didn't take Ciliren and the other demihumans long to adapt to the pace of life at the Refuge. The routine, though strange at first, was constant and predictable, and that alone was reassuring. Little by little, they also began to familiarize themselves with its former inhabitants, all seemingly from a world very different from Gaea. From that place where all those demons who had represented the world's greatest enemies for hundreds of years originated. Something she still couldn't quite reconcile with the refuge filled with such kind people.

  Although one exception was the living statue named Nana, who made the hair on Ciliren's body stand on end every time she crossed paths with her. No matter how many times she saw her, or how calm she seemed, there was something deeply unsettling about her presence. Something that didn't belong to this world… or any other she could comprehend.

  Aside from that, Ciliren adapted with surprising speed to the other three adults at the Refuge, all of them, she heard from them, apprentices of Joel, the real name of the man who had bought her and the other slaves.

  Alicia was the eldest. She possessed a refined presence and a serene composure that commanded respect without her ever raising her voice. To Ciliren, she behaved exactly as she imagined a true noble lady should: polite, firm when necessary, and always aware of her surroundings. Her manner was kind, never condescending, and that made her easy to respect.

  Liam, on the other hand, was a serious and reserved man, with a natural aura of leadership. Ciliren soon noticed that his attention was almost always focused on others, concerned for the well-being of all the inhabitants of the Refuge. He took his task of training the children in the art of combat with absolute seriousness, as if he were preparing for something far more important than mere lessons.

  Ariel was… different. From the first day, she was an enigma to Ciliren. She had never before met anyone with such a profound level of empathy. Ariel seemed to understand others without needing words, as if she could see right through them. Ciliren witnessed on more than one occasion how Ariel managed to calm demihuman children who were crying inconsolably over the memory of their parents, speaking to them with a closeness that seemed like that of a long-lost relative.

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  For Ciliren, this made Ariel seem very enigmatic… and a little eccentric. Especially when she was accompanied by that enormous owl that always followed her, an imposing creature whose presence was almost as strange as that of its owner.

  Another important character was Abigail, a rather interesting young woman. Ciliren took a liking to her almost immediately, especially since she was the one in charge of teaching English to all the slaves. Her personality sometimes felt a little forced, as if she were trying to appear more mature and confident than she actually was. There was something slightly artificial about the way she spoke and behaved.

  It was Ariel who revealed to her that Abigail was only about twelve years old, something the young woman didn't look at all. From Ciliren's perspective, that effort to appear older only made her even more adorable. This motivated her to seek Abigail's company frequently, both to learn the language and to hear her talk more about life inside the Shelter.

  Through Abigail, Ciliren learned many things about the Shelter, including rumors… especially those related to the terrifying Nana and the true leader of the whole place: the enigmatic Joel.

  Abigail had nothing but good things to say about him. Every time she spoke of Joel, her voice involuntarily softened, and on more than one occasion Ciliren could see the young woman's eyes shine with a mixture of admiration and genuine gratitude. She told him how he had rescued her from a life on the streets, when she was nothing more than a child without direction or protection, destined to disappear without anyone noticing.

  It was clear that her story wasn't unique. And it was easy to see that almost everyone in the Refuge shared a similar past: broken lives, abandonment, loss. And in all those stories, Joel appeared as the turning point. The man who had taken them in when no one else would. It wasn't surprising, then, that their respect for him bordered on devotion.

  But for Ciliren, the situation was different. While she was grateful not to have been separated from Aldra when she was bought, that gratitude never quite settled in her heart. There was always a doubt, a lingering unease. Because there was the undeniable fact that Joel—like all the original inhabitants of the Refuge—was a "demon."

  In her past, Ciliren had never seen one up close. Everything she knew came from stories passed down by those who had lived through that dark time during the invasions. Tales filled with horror described demons as bloodthirsty beasts, creatures that rampaged through the land, laying waste to everything in their path, leaving only ruins and corpses in their wake.

  None of that quite matched what she saw at the Refuge… and yet, the fear lingered. From what little she'd managed to gather, Joel belonged to a rebel faction among the demons. A group that had apparently even fought against the ruling empire of their own world, driven by the idea of ??creating a new society. It was an idealistic, almost utopian discourse… but Ciliren had no way of verifying whether it was true or just a convenient story.

  The simple truth was that she was afraid of Joel. The man was strange, distant, and cold most of the time. He barely shared any moments with others and seemed trapped in his own thoughts. Abigail assured her that he hadn't always been like this, at least not to this extent, that the change had begun right after the slaves arrived at the Refuge. The young woman didn't try to hide her concern, and Ciliren soon realized she wasn't the only one who thought so.

  That was what worried her most. The idea that she and the other demihuman women were somehow responsible for this change in him terrified her. The fear of becoming an unwanted burden. Of being abruptly discarded… or worse, of being eliminated simply for knowing too much.

  Aldra assured her that this was unlikely. To her, Joel didn't seem at all the type of person capable of doing something like that, especially after everything he had done for the children of the Refuge. But even so, words failed to reassure Ciliren. The doubt remained, a thorn impossible to ignore.

  In a clumsy attempt to dispel her fears, Ciliren tried to approach Joel and talk to him. However, every time she managed to get close enough to see him, her body simply refused to respond. She froze before taking the first step, her mind blank, unsure of what to say or how to begin a conversation that felt so important.

  Joel, for his part, always observed her in a way she couldn't quite decipher. There was confusion in his gaze, an excessive, almost unsettling attention. He would usually scan her entire body with his gaze, as if he were evaluating something he didn't quite understand, before lingering for long seconds on her eyes. It wasn't a lascivious or violent look. It was something worse: an intense observation, as if he were confronted with an enigma too complex, or something that shouldn't exist.

  Ciliren began to notice his presence even when she wasn't looking directly at him. While working in the common areas, she sometimes felt his gaze fixed on her back. And on the rare occasions when Joel sat down to eat with the others in the main dining room, she could swear he was watching her from a distance, with the same absent and focused expression.

  When she told Aldra everything, Aldra quickly formulated a theory that had never crossed Ciliren's mind, and which, disturbingly, seemed to make sense: Joel desired her. Or at least, that's what it seemed like.

  Unlike Ciliren, Aldra had experience in this area. Demihuman societies were straightforward about relationships and sexuality, largely guided by the law of the strongest. Women chose partners capable of offering power, security, and clear advantages for their offspring. As a mystic warrior, Aldra had always been seen as a potential mate for strong leaders and dominant figures, and she was more than used to dealing with lustful glances.

  Ciliren hesitated immediately. That explanation seemed too simplistic… and yet, Aldra persisted. The woman even confessed that she herself had felt Joel's gaze upon her on more than one occasion. Not with the same intensity that Ciliren described, but enough to notice.

  And without the slightest hint of embarrassment, Aldra added something that left Ciliren completely taken aback. She said that she couldn't help but be attracted to a man like Joel. Someone so powerful, and at the same time capable of creating something as extraordinary as the Refuge, was, from her perspective, an exceptional prospect. She asserted that, were it not for the fact that they belonged to completely different races, both incapable of procreation, she would already be doing everything possible to capture his attention.

  That statement shocked the elf. Not only because of its explicitness, but because it revealed how different their worldviews were. For Ciliren, this was complicated and uncharted territory. For Aldra, it was simply a natural part of life.