An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“Shhh,” the female witch soothed, the demon child’s lower lip trembling with sadness and fear and exhaustion as she gently turned their head back toward her. “It’s okay. I can’t imagine what you must’ve been through today, who you have lost… you’re so brave to have made it out of there, so strong to have run as far and as fast as you did,” she said, rubbing the child’s back as they felt fresh tears forming from the corners of their eyes. “They’re all gone, aren’t they…? They… why would they save me? They never liked me, never, but as soon as those witches… as soon as… they…” “What’s your name, little one?” the woman asked, pulling the demon back from their impending spiral. “My… name…?” the demon asked, “I… I’m Seven,” they said shakily, “my name is Seven.” The witches behind them shared an odd look with one another, but the female witch did not let the demon see such a thing, keeping their focus on her as she smiled at them with, in their eyes, all the radiance of the sun. “What a wonderful name,” she said, rustling the messy blonde hair atop Seven’s head as they simply stared at her bewildered, tears once again streaming silently down their face. “My name is Rana.”
