When I woke up on Tuesday morning, just a few minutes before seven, I realized something.
My healing abilities were still here, but they were only active when I was asleep, which means they had mutated to nocturnal powers after my father returned them. Supernatural mutations like this weren't uncommon in the underworld. But they were mostly interpreted as a sign that the demon undergoing the mutation was falling from the grace of Argranos. It was more or less of a bad omen.
Had I fallen from my father's grace?
I glanced around my room; at the soft sunlight that bathed the furniture orange, and the emptiness of it. It was nothing compared to Elijah's room which was agreeably messy, but human and lived-in nonetheless.
Suddenly I felt cold.
I had forgotten to close the windows after Elij
