An old man wearing a tattered cloth over his eyes cried out as he awoke from a deep slumber. “Guard!” A soldier stepped out of the shadowy corner. “Tell the king I have news of the Hell-Child.”

  Without a word, the guard sprinted off. When he reached the throne room, he took a knee. A deep, rough voice, scarred from years of yelling, barked out from the shadows. “Speak!”

  “Botis had a vision of the Hell-Child. He did not give details, my king.

  A low rumble came from the shadows. "Bring Botis to me. I shall hear him.”

  “Yes, my king.” The soldier bowed deeply and left.

  Adramelech stared into his goblet of deep red blood-wine. One of the gemstones adorning his horns caught a speck of light reflected by the goblet. He shifted his weight as his groin began to ache; the ghost pains of amputation. Downing his wine, he threw the goblet against the wall and cursed the awful wench who maimed him.

  When the soldier returned, he threw the frail old man to his knees in front of Adramelech's throne. “Perhaps you’ll tell the king why it took so long to retrieve you!” The soldier threw Botis onto his knees as he spoke.

  “My humblest of apologies, your majesty. I was using the bathroom when your soldier came back for me.”

  “He can’t even use his powers to make himself presentable for you in a timely manner. How are we supposed to trust his prophecies?”

  “The man is old, perhaps he is even past his due expiration, but his prophecies, though not as vivid as they once were, are of use to me.”

  The soldier sneered at Botis, disgusted by the sorry excuse for a demon. “Bow before your king, Prophet.” He stepped on the old man's head to lower it further. Botis's long white beard grazed the floor. Though he was not any older than the average demon, the overuse of his aura had caused his body to age severely - something most powerful demons never had to experience.

  Wanting a better view of Botis's treatment, Adramelech stepped away from the shadows into the well-lit center of the room. At more than ten feet tall and built like an ox, the Chimera-Daemon held a fearsome presence. Ten crooked horns rose from his head at varying angles, each with a unique gemstone embedded in it at the base. His bright peacock tail feathers fanned out as he stomped a cloven hoof in annoyance. “Tell me what you have seen. If I’m satisfied with the answer, I’ll consider letting you live. Though I have a feeling it is time to obtain a fresher prophet." Adramelech smiled. He wondered how Uvall's powers were developing. 'His brother turned out to be useless, but Uvall's powers manifested early. He should be ready to harvest within the century.'

  “I have seen the face and heard the name of the Hell-Child that will attempt to overthrow you.” Botis's voice tremored.

  Adramelech's lion-ears twitched with the information. “Go on.”

  “What’s more, I know where she is. and if you bring me a sprite, I can have her delivered to you tonight."

  The king smiled, baring his razor-sharp fangs. “Guard, retrieve a messenger sprite, and then prepare a cell.”

  “Yes, my King.” The soldier bowed deeply before backing away and leaving the room.

  The king smiled wickedly. “Tell me everything, Botis.”

  ***

  “Damien!” Keshiema ran to his side as she cried out. “Damien, I’m here for you.”

  Squeezing his eyes shut, Ipos did his best to ignore the hallucination. “You’re not real…”

  “I’m sorry it took so long, but I’m here now.” She looked him over for wounds, healing a laceration on his back at the base of his wings. Lifting his face, she found several cuts. Making quick work of those, she moved to his ankles. “These shackles…” She calmed her mind and focused her aura over the metal chains. Imagining an icy blizzard, she tried to freeze the restraints. A few specs of frost appeared on the metal but swiftly melted. “Damnit. If I’d trained more…”

  Peaking outside, she found the orc had vanished. “Fuck!” Holding her hand over her right eye, she tried to think of a way to break the chains. “I’m running out of time. Someone is going to come up here looking for Sonneillon.”

  She tried to freeze the chains again to no avail. “There has to be another way.” She thought about her lock-picking set and groaned. “I’m an idiot!” Pulling out her lock picks, she started on his feet. Letting her aura flow outward from her hands, she created just enough light to see what she was doing. After several minutes, the first lock gave way. A small amount of pride built up. After quickly healing the shackle wounds, she moved to the other foot. A few moments in, one of her picks snapped, leaving a shard jammed inside the keyhole.

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  Growling in frustration, she moved to his hands. “Don’t worry, Damien. I’m getting you out of here. As soon as I get your hands free, you can have some of my energy to take care of the last chain.” As her necklace dangled, it brushed against his arm. The small crescent stone glowed as it made contact with his skin.

  The small light caught her eye as she fumbled with her lock picks. “What the hell?” Holding up the pendant, she examined it closely. “Moonstone.” The thought came through like an epiphany. She removed her necklace and slipped it over Ipos's head. “Please, please, please work.” A small breath of relief escaped her when Ipos started to stir. The movements were small, like he was waking from a dream. Elated, she began working on the shackles again.

  “Kesh? You’re….”

  She glanced up, meeting his barely open eyes. “It’s okay, Damien, we're going to get out of here.” Needing to concentrate, she looked back at the shackle. A wave of relief washed over her as she freed his hand. “I just have to get your other hand now.”

  “You're not real…” he mumbled the words as he had thousands of times over the last several days.

  Getting used to the locks, she made quick work of his second hand. “Damien, you’re up.” Putting her hand on his forehead, she gave him as much of her energy as she could without making herself useless. “You just need a jumpstart.” She put her other hand on his chest and guided the aura to his soul.

  “Go away,” he grunted, louder now, more alert,

  “I’m not leaving without you. We're going home.” Standing, she pulled him to his feet.

  “Get away from me!” Ipos shouted as he swiped at her with his fully grown-back claws. “You’re not real!” Clutching his skull and fighting back tears, he shrank to the floor. “You’re not real!”

  Stumbling back, Keshiema held her shoulder. Blood soaked through her uniform. “Damien…” she cringed as the pain set in. Her healing powers activated, but her lack of food and sleep, accompanied by the overuse of power keeping Cresil alive, proved too much for her power to keep up. Her star flickered, and a bitter chill overwhelmed her.

  The bouquet of blood-soaked lilacs drifted to him. “Keshiema…” he looked up to see her still standing there. “You’re not real! Why can't you just leave me alone?”

  His heart ached as he watched her fight to stay upright. He clutched his chest, fighting the urge to go to her. Something felt hot against his cold hand. “What?” He picked up the burning pendant, recognizing it immediately. “Keshiema!” He took a step towards her, but the last chain trapped him. With one swipe of his claws, with little regard for his own skin, the shackle fell to the floor in pieces.

  As he rushed to Keshiema's side, he felt lightheaded. After pausing to regain his balance, Ipos lifted her into his arms and carried her into the hall. “Kesh, why aren’t you healing?” Stumbling through the construction, he found his way to the stairwell door. “Hang on, Kesh.” When he unbolted the door, his reflection met him in the doorway.

  Still groggy from the sunstones, Ipos stood confused until Ayperos spoke. “What the hell did you do to her?”

  “Can do to stop the bleeding? She won't last like this!” Tears streamed from Ipos's black eyes down his ashen face.

  Ayperos rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a small notepad of spell papers. Flipping through the notes, he tore off a page. “I can seal the wound; she’ll still be in pain, but with any luck, she won't die.” Ipos looked away as Ayperos tore her shirt to better access the wound. Setting the spell on her bare skin, Ayperos hovered his hands over the injury and let his dark aura flow into her. As the gashes closed, Keshiema started to scream and writhe in pain. Ipos carefully tightened his grip as she struggled. “That’s as much as I can do,” As soon as Ayperos moved his hands away, Keshiema calmed down.

  “Take her home.” Ipos carefully handed Keshiema to Ayperos, making sure not to tear open the fresh scab.

  “Transform.” Ipos stared at Ayperos with uncertainty. “I know you don’t trust me, you’re too weak to make the journey back. It’s the only way to get both of you home. You know if you don’t make it, she’ll blame herself.”

  “Thank you, Kesh.” Ipos removed Keshiema's moonstone pendant and slipped it over her head. As Keshiema moaned in pain, fighting for consciousness, the doppelgangers shared a look.

  “We need to hurry.” Ayperos urged.

  Ipos sighed heavily and took a step back. His black and silver aura swirled around him, consuming his entire being. Speckles of Keshiema's iridescent purple aura dance chaotically within the dark, wispy plume. When the aura faded away, a large raven stood in Ipos’s place. Without a sound, the bird flittered up, landing on Ayperos's shoulder.

  Adjusting his hold on Keshiema, Ayperos started down the stairs. Several stories down, Alarms sounded. The building's lights shut down, and a red glow took their place. “Looks like things are getting interesting.” Someone slammed open a door below them, and several armed demons entered the stairwell. One caught sight of Ayperos and launched a fireball. He cursed, ducking behind the railing. The projectile flew by, narrowly missing him. “Great, now we’ve been discovered.” He quickly checked Keshiema's wound, making sure it was still closed. “You'll be ok, Kesh,” He told her, or maybe he was telling himself.

  Leaving the stairwell, he began searching the building for a window, trying every door he passed. Locked. every single one. Ipos squawked, pecking at Ayperos's head. Ayperos glared at him before continuing to check for unlocked doors. Ipos squawked again before launching into the air and fluttering to a stop a few feet away. “I take it you know your way around.” The words were as accusatory as they sounded. “Well, lead the way.” He led them down a different hallway, stopping at a door that appeared the same as every other. He pecked the door and croaked, emphasizing his choice. When Ayperos found the door unlocked, a wave of relief washed over him.