When the whiteness recedes and makes way for the familiar sight of my own world, I blink. I can't shake the feeling of detachment. Sounds seem both more shrill and muted, colors strange and out of focus. I decide to continue walking, but my body feels slow to respond. One claw in front of the other, I continue my way to Harijia. The gravel, stone and moss underfoot, tiny surges of energy here and there. It's still the same. Reaching the entrance to Harijia's area, I hesitate. What did I come here for? The decision is taken from me as Harijia appears from her room at the far end.

“Hello! Is it that time again? Or are you just bored?” she calls to me.

I don't feel like answering. Moving a body forward is one thing, speaking is much harder. Moving past the cells, I come to a stop a meter or two away from her. I have to crane my neck a bit to look up at her. She's considerate enough to lower herself somewhat, lessening the strain on my neck. There's something new there that makes it uncomfortable. When I don't say anything, she leans forward, studying my face. I wonder what she sees there? I study her in return. I never noticed how her iris makes her pupils look a bit more round instead of vertical ovals. Another trick to interact with other species? She's taken it too far, I think. Being different has its own attraction, Ara's world has shown me that.

“What's going on with you?”

I continue to study her without answering. Her tongue moves out, tasting who knows what on the air.

In the corner of my eyes I see movement. On my left side Harijia has pulled her arm back. Almost in slow motion she swings it forward. She's swinging for a hit on the body, but it doesn't look like there's much force behind it. I know I should dodge. I don't know why I don't. Just before her limb connects, she twists her body to add additional power. With a dull thump she hits me in the side, throwing me against the wall with enough force to knock my breath out of me.

Anger brings the world back into focus. Automatically my claws spread for a better grip as I cling to the wall. No time to think. If Harijia is trying to kill me, I can't stay still. A quick glance her way makes me pause. She isn't moving, there is no follow-up. Confusion fills my mind. Why? What happened? It's all a bit vague, but I didn't do anything wrong, did I?

“I'll ask you again, Kragol, if you're still using that name, What is going on? What happened? You were totally out of it.”

She's on guard, waiting to see how I'll act. Looking back now, I was indeed 'out of it'. It all felt so unreal after coming back from that summon. That's not something I want to tell her, though.

“Nothing," I tell her, "nothing happened. It's none of your business.”

“It is,” she hisses back. “If there is a chance you'll snap and go on a killing spree, it certainly is my business.”

I'm unable to say anything against that. I don't think I was about to go wild. I don't think that's going to be enough of an answer, though. Better would be to change the subject.

“Say, Harijia, what was your worst summon?”

It's something that's been in the back of my mind. I keep hearing that I'm lucky, but I don't feel lucky.

Harijia looks at me quietly for a moment, then gestures behind her. “Come, this is not a good place to talk about that sort of thing.” She slithers down a corridor, not to her workspace but to where I think her own personal quarters are.

Her personal space is different from what I imagined. I imagined furniture and items, things like the devils use. That is true for the first room. She keeps her own projects here and the tools of her trade. Engraving tools, some things that I assume are torture devices, furniture, the works. There are even different sets of clothing hanging on pegs. Looking at the scorch marks on them, they're more for protection than for anything else.

Her own space can't be described as a room. Instead, it's a cave. More natural than the big cavern, too. The air is dry and warm. Some very small glowing stones provide a bare minimum of illumination. I turn my head to look at Harijia. She shrugs.

“Whatever you may think I am,” she explains, “I'm still a snake by birth.”

It makes sense. I know I would never get used to living in a house like Ara does. I just did not think of Harijia as a demon any more. As Harijia settles down in a sandy corner, I find a comfortable place of my own.

“Talking about it still makes me upset, so I prefer a quiet corner where I feel comfortable,” Harijia explains. “Besides, the ones in the cells don't need to hear this, they have enough to worry about with their small minds.”

“And it's fine to tell me?” I ask. Disputing that most other demons have small minds isn't worth it, I've come to the same conclusion. They're not interested in anything but where their next meal comes from, no matter if they are smart or not.

“You worry enough already,” she laughs “a bit more won't do you any harm.”

I'm not sure if she's complimenting me or making fun of me, or both. Probably both. I flick my tail in agitation and Harijia seems to pick up on the hint.

“My story, as you asked.” She pauses. Her body language stills. “It was when I was still quite young. These things always happen when we're young and weak. People take advantage of it.”

“It started off hectic. I appeared on a ship in a storm. There was nothing to fight, nothing to do. Just big waves, dark sky, and the shouting of people. But fighting wasn't why I was summoned. Suddenly someone grabbed me from behind. I was pressed on the wood and someone started slicing into me. I heard someone shout, 'where is that bloody rope'. You see, they didn't need a demon, they needed rope. They couldn't magically create rope, but they could summon a demon.” Harijia pauses. “They skinned me alive. Mostly skinned me. If my skin was actually cut off of me, it would disappear over time, so they had to leave it connected to me. They also needed me alive, but I was bleeding out from the rough treatment. A burst of heat cauterized my wounds, further adding to the pain. Salt water washed over me. Do you know how salt feels in an open wound? It hurts. A lot. And my whole body was one big open wound. It lasted for days.”

I let this sink in for a moment. Honestly, it makes even my worst experience pale in comparison. “How did you deal with that,” I ask her quietly.

She laughs, a strange sound considering the situation. “I didn't. Somewhere on the first day of the ordeal my mind sort of switched off. It was as if it was happening to someone else. I was just watching. When it ended and I was back from where I was summoned, my mind didn't turn back to normal.” She looks at me now. “I've seen it in others, and now in you. I'm sure I was the same for a while. When I snapped out of it, though, I really did go on a rampage. I was just too weak to do any real damage.”

That makes me snort in amusement. A weak Harijia. Sure, her arms aren't worth a swat, but when she's in her actual form she's a monstrously powerful serpent.

“None of us are born strong, you know.” She pauses. “Well, some are, but most aren't. Now, why don't you tell me what happened to you? You're taking it much better than I did, so it can't have been that bad.”

My first desire is to deny that it wasn't bad, but in the light of her story I stop myself. It wasn't as bad. As I think back on what was done to me, the feeling of helplessness steals over me again. For once, I decide to tell Harijia all of what happened. And once I start, I tell her everything.

My weakness, powerlessness and disgust as my organs were removed one by one. How I felt used, abused, Violated. After I finish talking, there is silence. It's Harijia who speaks first.

“I appreciate you opening up to me, Kragol. At least it explains your new growth.” At my questioning glance she elaborates. “Armored plates or scales of some kind down your spine. It's only the start of them, so it's hard to tell. The question I have for you now is, what was it that set you off so much? And after that, what next?”

I take my time giving an answer. Telling about the experience woke an anger in me. I just want to claw something to pieces. “It wasn't the pain, because there wasn't any. It was being powerless. Not just powerless, I was powerless before. Helpless. Before, even if I was helpless, I always knew there was something I could do to influence what happened. Even if it was 'don't stand at the front', or 'don't draw attention'.” I pulverize a small rock with my claws and lick the dust off my claws, longing for the taste of blood. “I don't mind being used. Everyone is used. I don't mind pain, I can stand a lot of pain. What I hated most was being a thing. They didn't look at me and see a demon. They saw a thing to be studied.”

“Next time I don't like my summoner, I'll take an eye, arm, leg or life.” I state, staring at Harijia in defiance. The admonishment I expect doesn't come, though, as Harijia nods in approval.

“I'd have told you off if you'd said you were going to kill them all,” she says to my surprised expression, “but making them fear and respect demons is certainly acceptable. I've seen too many spirits and minds broken to be able to tell you to be 'nice',” she continues to explain.

Focusing on the conversation helps contain my anger. I'm still reflexively clawing the rocky ground. Breaking pieces of stone feels good, but I really want to sink my claws into something else. To distract myself I try to get Harijia to talk again. “What happened after your rampage?”

She shrugs, or at least shrugs as much as a serpent without any real shoulders can. “I came to my senses in an isolation cell, very similar to the one you were in. Out of boredom I started studying the runes that calm the mana in the air. When I started studying the summon circles too, the keepers back then noticed. One day a devil approached me. Said he would teach me, but that all my summons would be for him from then on. He guaranteed me good, or at least decent, treatment during them. I didn't even need to think.”

“And that is why devils are better than demons.” I don't even try to hide the sarcasm.

Harijia nods, ignoring the sarcasm. “That is why devils are better than demons.”

“You realize he only did it because it was to his advantage, right?” I throw back at her.

She nods again, undisturbed. “And a demon wouldn't have helped me even if it was in their advantage. Helping someone on the premise that you'll be repaid over time? Would you do that? Even the cooperation between the swarmlings erodes over time without the influence of a queen.”

There is little I can say against that, especially since I'm evidence of that very process. Would I have helped a fellow demon if it wasn't to my immediate advantage? Probably not. Maybe if it didn't involve much effort. As reply, I shrug, not bothering to answer.

“So how do I get someone like that? At those selection days, I assume?” The situation leaves a bad taste behind. I'll depend on someone else again. Maybe it's worth looking into becoming an 'agent' so I can represent myself.

“That's one way,” Harijia nods. “We weren't going to tell you yet, but now is as good a time as any. Wait here a bit.”

With that Harijia slithers out of her personal space to the store- and workspace. She quickly returns holding out something like a piece of paper. It has writing on it. I look from the letter, which is surely what this is, to Harijia. She's not saying anything, waiting for me to ask her and clearly enjoying the situation. I groan inwardly. I'm going to have to learn to read. Reading isn't covered by whatever helps me learn spoken language, so it will be all my own effort. The thought perks me up a bit. Something achieved by my own effort doesn't sound bad at all.

Sensing my changing mood, Harijia turns the letter around and quickly scans the contents. “It's a strange thing to receive this. Maybe it's more common closer to the core settlements. Someone is simply asking to verify that a demon that closely matches your description is present here.”

It takes time to process the information. It takes even longer to link it to a memory. What felt like ages ago, a devil summoning me to a world of humans and giving me a compliment. Was it more or less than a year ago? It feels like much longer. The question is, what purpose does this letter serve? I'm still way too weak and small to be taken out of here, if I'm to believe Harijia and the other keepers. I study Harijia and notice that she's waiting for me to take the lead again.

“This could have been sent a few months before I was ready to leave.” I cock my head and wait for Harijia's nod to continue. “The purpose is not to ask for information, but to inform. It was to inform the keepers that someone is interested in me. Why? What difference does it make? No, wait. There was more in the letter, wasn't there?”

“See for yourself.”

Harijia turns the letter around so I can see the script. I know she's trying to provoke me, but I am not in the mood for it. Born of frustration, something between a hiss and a growl escapes me. A pleased twitch from Harijia's tail is my only response. The stalemate continues a bit longer before Harijia relents.

“We are to stimulate you. Nothing else is said about how, why or to which end. I can make a guess, though.”

She looks at me after that, and I nod. When that doesn't work, I push myself to talk again. “What is your guess?” Silence is all that I get. I grumble a bit before continuing. “To make me talk more. Or at least interact. To try and improve myself.” An imperceptible nod. I think back to what sets me apart from most of my fellow demons. Demons entirely satisfied with lounging around and doing nothing, eating when fed, sleeping whenever they felt like it. “To keep me doing, wanting and striving.”

A realization hit me. “You're all in on it. You, Joacham, all the keepers! You sent me on a wild chase to find and talk with them all, but the end result was already decided! By you!”

A familiar feeling creeps over me. Whatever I do, it's no use. They'll do with me as they will. What's worse is that this isn't a summon. A faint tremble goes through my body and I feel the strength leave my limbs. The sensation of detachment steals over me again and I begin to crouch in submission. What does it matter what I do?

Bile rises to my throat. No, I refuse! I will not give up and let them do as they please with me. Not both here and in other worlds. One I can suffer through, but not the other. I can feel the acidic tingle in my mouth as my spit turns more vitriolic in response to my mood. The limbs on my back unfold, ready to fight. Slowly I start to move sideways, trying to find a better angle for my strike.

“Why are you so agitated?” she asks. “Didn't you say you were fine with being used?”

“In a summon, Harijia.” I fire back. “You should know the difference.”

Harijia loses the amused posture and subtly flows into something more dangerous. Her scales glisten for a moment. The limbs, so closely resembling a human or devil's limbs before, are more like muscled spikes. As she positions herself in response to my threat her upper body rotates to face me. “Don't you see we were just trying to help?”

I don't let her distract me. The end doesn't justify the means. “Find some other way to help. Like talking to me.”

She scoffs at the suggestion. “As if you would have listened. So, is today the day you're going to try taking a swing at me? You're centuries too young to be a threat to me.”

Her short-sightedness disappoints me. “It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I try.”