Now that I've secured an oath of loyalty from Pink – something that in hindsight I should really have secured from all my Chosen – I feel much more comfortable with the idea of teaching her a bit about this and that regarding how the world works. Still too much effort to actually do it but the sentiment is there! Much less chance of betrayal and other various problems that crop up due to soured interpersonal relationships when such an oath is in play. Honestly Pink should be more careful throwing things like that around – she's given me an inordinate amount of power over her in exchange for nothing at all. Something of a failing of character for a demon really – but it's to my benefit so I'll let it slide I suppose. Perhaps she doesn't even know what she's done? It's possible – she seems frightfully ignorant about magic truth be told but since I'm in a good mood I can let that slide too.

Thus our journey continues, leaving blasted craters in the landscape behind us – where Pink dutifully exterminates whatever nasties are laying around down there before trundling down herself to gather up all their corrupted hearts so I can toss them into storage. Because of these detours we are only now actually reaching the ocean – the edge of Artas. Even though we'd been able to see it for several days, well the land is flat and our vantage was high so it was still considerably distant. With my detours – and Pink's detours that she requested to confirm her suspicious about the indigenous wildlife being corrupted rather than born – its been nearly two weeks since I sallied forth from my throne. Pink's detours were somewhat inconclusive, incidentally, though profitable in the sense that we confirmed that the ratio of corrupted to uncorrupted monsters was something like 1:50 – which is something of a relief. And we managed to scavenge something for Pink to eat – water could be conjured and food could be gathered from the few remaining types of beasts that roamed the land, notably large four legged bovines with massive horns and bladed tails she called Veniks. Not fighting in a state of literal starvation has improved Pink's performance considerably and she's often able to volley the smaller groups of corrupted monsters to death without drawing on my power at all. With this most of my servants bodily needs have been seen to, anything more she's on her own for.

Here we stand, on the edge of Artas. Or actually about a hundred feet above the rocky gray shoreline below if we're being accurate. I'm slightly moved – it has been …a long time… since I've left Artas, demons rarely venture beyond our borders – there is conflict enough to be had within them without tangling with the rest of the world. Long ago I – as all young demons are wont – was sent beyond our borders in search of blood and glory; countless raids during which demonic youth to cut their teeth against the world beyond. But that is truly ancient history. My forays beyond the border are such a distant memory now, a dream within a dream, I could almost think they never happened at all. So to set out now again, so late in life, it fills me with a certain trepidation. Mostly trepidation we're going to get horribly lost at sea.

“And you are absolutely sure this is the correct direction Pink?”

“Yes mistress, can you see that triangle of stars?” She's pointing up into the night sky and pretending three of those pinpricks of light are distinguishable from the rest. “That is the constellation 'Suprema' – I imagine you can guess from whence it drew its name – and it always points to the homeland of wayward humans.”

I'm not entirely convinced by her words. Because of her oath it's unlikely she's lying but she could be honestly mistaken. And getting lost at sea would be truly intolerable. The seas of Korridar are massive to the point it beggars belief and filled with all sorts of monstrous sea creatures. If we flew off in the wrong direction it would be a terrible waste of time and incredibly difficult to get back, for the seas are magical in many places and difficult to navigate. The mana of powerful sea monsters is throwing off my senses even from here on the shore – simply due to the sheer number of the things. The sea is a massive untamed wilderness after all – and when monsters are left to their own devices they can only produce ever more powerful monsters. Losing our way is simply unacceptable at this junction.

So I'm standing on my cloud, Pink beside me, with my neck craned back trying to spot the constellation she mentioned. But all I can see is a strange night sky covered with innumerable identical stars – no ash in the air to protect us from their light, it's quite peculiar. For me who can hardly ever remember seeing the sky in such a state – blanketed in stars instead of the familiar ash – blearily trying to pick out and three of those ethereal pinpricks is more or less impossible. Not that I won't try.

“It's quite pretty isn't it Mistress?” Pink speaks from my side.

“Pretty?” I repeat the word absently, still squinting up at the sky.

“The night sky I mean. I've only actually seen it in person once before on an expedition to the outlands with my sister. I was raised in Lumineux so such opportunities were rare as you can imagine. But it is quite breathtaking.”

“Opportunities were rare? If you want to go somewhere just go – it's simple is it not?”

“Would that we were all so strong as you are Mistress.” She says wryly. “But it really is pretty...” Her voice trails off.

“There is a certain beauty I suppose – but mostly it just hurts my eyes.”

Pink lets out a sigh. “Mistress I have serious doubts that the light of distant stars is in any way capable of hurting you.”

“It's the principle of the thing Pink. Even if they can't what matters is they tried.” I smile a little as I speak – glad Pink seems to have finally become comfortable enough to banter to this degree. It seems counter-intuitive, to want someone comfortable speaking with me, but circumstances being what they are I've decided to make a special exception to my usual policy of non-communication with servants. I'll need someone to do all the talking for me in Suprema and that person will need to understand my goals to some extent. So far Pink is the best candidate for the job.

“Then Mistres-”

“Gsv qly mvevi vmw, wlvh rg?” A new voice enters our conversation, speaking in gibberish. Or a language I don't speak – one of the two.

I let my gaze drop from the stars and there in front of us stands a Celestial. Well, he's actually flying held aloft by a pair of pure white wings, about thirty feet away from us, out over the sea we've been debating attempting to cross. A male, I think. He is tall and powerfully built – unusual for a dove, they generally don't have very bulky frames. His hair is silver in the moonlight, matching the full suit of gleaming silver armor he wears. Gripped loosely in his left hand is a trident, also silver, held with no particular intent at his side. Under his right arm he holds his silver helmet. I can sense some minor enchantments adorn his armor and weapon – and he himself has some pitiful amount of magical power, about equal to Pink's unaugmented capacity – actually maybe a bit more. Over the silver armor a pure white tabard emblazoned with a crest depicting a feathered wing. He has a pale face which seems unnaturally delicate in comparison to his stocky body and a pair of golden eyes, narrowed, staring at Pink.

Pink has spotted him as well. I can see her whole body tensed ready to spring forward. Her hatred for the doves is really quite debilitating isn't it I muse. But it seems she remembers her oath, because she stays with her feet firmly planted on the cloud, standing slightly in front of me as if to interpose her body between me and the dove. Her tail is swaying behind her while her hand repeatedly clenches and releases a fist. Along with a million other tiny expressions of nervous energy begging for release. The dove notices as well – if his slightly contemptuous smirk is anything to go by.

“Pink.” I warn.

“I will not fail you Mistress.” Comes her reply.

The dove, hearing that exchange tilts his head, an expression of confusion crossing his face momentarily. When he speaks again it is in the same bastardized low demonic Pink and I are using.

“An old tongue you two are using.” His voice, which is as deep as a dove's voice can be, sounds slightly hoarse and thoughtful. Though perhaps that is just unfamiliarity with the language. “It has been many years since I met another who could speak as such. Not since The Sundering and for a few decades after.”

The silence spins out between us. I do not particularly want to speak to the man, it seems this situation is going to be troublesome no matter what we do – so why add to that? And while Pink should be by all rights eager to step forward and interrogate him, she's just standing there like a statue, working to get her various nervous ticks under control. Why is some damnable dove hanging around the edges of Artas anyway? Before Pink regains her wits – suddenly confronted by one of her hated doves and all – the man speaks again.

“At any rate, greetings to you two wayward demons.” His smirk grows into a smile as he speaks. “My name is Quin Kaefirth – a sentinel of the first Chorus. It has been long since I last laid eyes on another thinking being so perhaps we might exchange words?”

Exchanging words sounds good. Sounds right in line with our goals. I can see Pink knows it to because she steps forward on the cloud – physically interposing herself between me and the Celestial called Quin – and returns the greeting.

“To you as well, greetings.” The barely suppressed snarl is audible in her voice – but if anything it just seems to make the dove more amused. “I am called Pink – first retainer of the Demon King. I should very much like to speak with you as well. We require ...information.”

“...Pink, is it? Perhaps I was overly optimistic in my initial assessment of you – but I suppose I can entertain you a bit nonetheless.” His voice oozes the kind of faux politeness that even a child would not be deceived by. “My vigil has been long with only the sea and the shore and the occasional mindless monster or beast for company. It has been many many years since I have seen another of your kind and I now slightly regret my haste at that time. Such a waste to have killed him so quickly.

To think today I would get to meet two! Looking for information! Though you'll get no help from me there I'm afraid – it would be a betrayal of the highest order to aid a demon I'm afraid – I can only apologize for that. The Chorus has strict rules – and I cannot break them, even for a Demon King.” He spits the words. “I'm surprised any would call themselves as such. How fanciful. Such fierce competition you must have faced for that title. That would be you would it – milady?” He directs that last bit to me. Bored I pay him no mind – calling me Demon King was Pink's plan, hoping to give the two of us a bit more authority in our interactions. And it isn't as if it is an inaccurate title. From in front of me Pink speaks again.

“The Demon King does not have words for the likes of you Celestial. By what right do you interlope in her sovereign lands?”

Uh Pink. That's not really the important question here is it? The Celestial is obviously offended by her attitude too, I can see his eyes narrowing and his whole body slightly tensing. I consider subtly chastising her in some way but before I can the man replies.

“By right of arms my foolish demonic friend. The First Chorus has controlled these shores for nearly five hundred years now – ever since the main host withdrew from this dismal land. Long before your time fledgling. Though our presence has dwindled in recent years due to more pressing matters – these shores are and will remain firmly under our command. Regardless of the wishes of any would-be Demon King.

To not even know that much, you two must be young indeed. How unfortunate for you, right now it is a terrible time to be born a demon.” His smile is filled with seemingly genuine compassion at those words; his eyes terribly gentle. “It reassures me though – to know such fools as you are still being born – the High Council is convinced that demonkind has been all but wiped out. So it is good some of you proved a bit resilient – if only to give me something to do.”

As he says that his grip tightens on his trident and with an unnecessarily flashy flourish he takes a more serious stance. Spinning it above his head for a moment before dropping it down – pointing it at me. The compassion has vanished from his eyes like mist before the dawn, leaving only barely restrained bloodlust.

“So name yourself Demon King, that we may begin in earnest. Surely even you two are not so young as to not understand what happens when a demon meets a member of the Chorus?”

“We are not so young. But it was our hope that given the circumstances you Celestials might be more amiable to conversation. After all that has happened – all you have done – is your lust for death still not sated? You yourself initiated this dialogue did you not?”

Pink is going off-message again. Though maybe her restraint should be praised? The dove has been needlessly antagonistic throughout our little interaction. Even now he's pointing a weapon at me. Is that a crime deserving of death? Usually I would unquestioningly say it was but I've judged that this Celestial is incapable of harming me and with that being the case this little charade is just posturing. Does he deserve to die for posturing? I'm still leaning towards “Yes” but he may have valuable information so–

“I did didn't I? But I was quickly reminded how little respect even the weakest of demons have for their betters – reminded why the only conversation the Chorus has with you demons comes at the end of this spear. But if you insist perhaps after I've beaten the both of you down, I might be inclined to have you answer a few of my questions in exchange for being spared some of what follows.” The smile he gives us at those words is positively ghoulish. “Its been a long time since I last saw a demon – killing you too quickly would be a terrible waste. Now declare yourself – that we might be done with this farce!” He sends me a piercing glare as he shouts.

It's a trident I retort internally. And it's a bit funny how much he seems to want my name – due to some aspect of honorable Celestial combat no doubt. My knowledge of Celestial culture is more or less nonexistent though so I can't say for sure – maybe he's just a serial killer and for him names are trophies? He certainly looks a bit unhinged, brandishing his weapon and shouting like that. Old hatreds run deep, on both sides of the Blood Cycle it seems. But I've been restraining myself properly you know? Thinking I would set a terrible example for Pink if I killed the first Celestial we met – but he's literally asking for it. So, feeling not at all sad about this turn of events, I step forward in front of Pink so I can look at the wretch.

He looks back at me, his lips twisting in a contemptuous snarl, eyes tracing the horns on my head. And then above the horns on my head to something else – what is he looking at? Ah. Judging by his reddening face he's taking offense to my circlet for some reason.

“I have decided I will kill you. I will get the answers I require from your little friend.” His voice is flat – the anger has vanished, controlled by the iron will of an experienced warrior. “But before that Demon King have you a na–”

“Alexandria.” And how I smile.

The response is immediate. First his armor flares with dozens of brilliant white lines for an instant – the shoddily drawn defensive enchantments entirely overwhelmed and burned to nothing. The contemptuous look on his face disappears – replaced by an expression of agony – and his entire body stiffens like a fresh corpse. And then, his body rigid his face twisted in pain, he tumbles backwards out of the sky and away from my cloud. A moment passes and I hear a splash below – the Celestial apparently swallowed by the waves – unable to withstand the sound of my voice. Or more the unchecked mana that permeates every aspect of my being – including my voice – but that's just splitting hairs.

“Such a disrespectful creature. To go so far in seeking out my words – only to immediately run away?” I muse aloud.

“It only shows just how unworthy of your words he was Mistress. If you would like I can follow and deliver to him a swift death?” Pink's voice is deadly serious.

“I think... we've already had this conversation Pink.” I regard the succubus from the corner of my eyes. And at my words she looks properly abashed. “We were in agreement, were we not, that it would be best to not needlessly open hostilities with the Celestials until we understand what – if any – countermeasures they are taking?”

It would be horrible to find the doves already had the problem in hand only after massacring them. And – in the more likely scenario – they will undoubtedly be able to be made useful in whatever solution we come up with. I've already proven that the scope of this problem is most likely beyond my own individual power – thus we will need allies. And while Celestials seem unlikely candidates for that position, they are the race most closely tied to the problem aside my own – and they must have noticed by now the side-effects cropping up. You would think that everyone would have a vested interest in saving the world even if it meant laying aside some old grudges. But then now and again you'll meet lunatics – the world is full of them.

Sighing I step backwards, narrowly avoiding the tip of the trident that explodes from the center of my cloud – dispersing it. My wings catch me and opposite I can see Pink's have done the same – in between us the silver-haired Celestial is hovering. He has his helmet on now – the only piece of his armor that survived contact with my mana unscathed, its protection apparently inert when not being worn. The rest of his previously unblemished silver armor is marred by countless black lines where the runes were destroyed. Through his visor I can see his face – staring at me, not in anger as I expected, but in slack-jawed disbelief.

“A corrupted ...Celestial? T-That is impossible...”

Oh. He's not looking at me – he's looking specifically at my wings, which are feathered like his own and not bat-like as is typical of demons; but mine are a much more handsome shade of black – compared to his silvery white. They are visible to him for the first time since this little encounter began, no longer folded behind my back. His eyes are wide with some variety of terror and his desire to fight seems to have all but flown.

“Sld xlfow gsrh szkkvm... R nfhg... gvoo gsv xlfmxro...”

He's lapsed back into his own language in his agitation and with a swift beat of his wings he flies up, away from me and Pink. We follow, Pink more enthusiastically than I if I'm being honest, and find him again high among the clouds – rapidly muttering under his breath. Sweating and breathing heavily he hovers there, body trembling from the strain of doing so much after almost certainly sustaining significant damage from my voice prior to his little fall. This I recognize, even if I can't understand the words – the mana congealing around his moonlit form is a dead giveaway of his intent to cast a spell of some sort. And while I'm a bit curious what he's planning to do, a part of me wanting to witness the reaction of this creature to this situation for the sheer novelty of it – would he fight? or flee? or call for help? try to summon something out of the sea? – I've also more or less run out of patience. This encounter has been nonsensical from start to finish, from his undisguised hostility to his frantic flight and now his desperate spellcasting. None of it makes any damn sense.

So I simply pulse my mana into my immediate surroundings, instantly crushing the spell he had been constructing, as I pull level with his height. As his magics are crushed he is forced to beat his wings a half dozen times to avoid dropping from the sky, bringing him once again slightly above us. But though he is looking down at us there is no arrogance in that gaze, his easy contempt and slightly lunatic energy has disappeared, replaced by the despairing look of a cornered beast.

“So you were agents of the Encroachment – I should have realized. Perhaps my long vigil has sapped my wariness? Even as the need for it has ever-increased.” His smile is bitter. “It seems I will die a fool. But do not think I will not fight you – do not think yo-”

“The Encroachment? What exactly is that?” Pink interrupts.

His eyes, still filled with that desperate resentment turn to Pink. “That you would mock me – even no-” And my hand is at his throat. My movement is swift and I'm on the winged man before his eyes can even register that I'm moving, it's completely at odds with my typical lethargy but this has gone on long enough. Intolerable for this wretch to be above me. My fingers tighten around his throat and with a flex of my arm I force his head below mine – holding him by the throat at arms length – looking down into his eyes. A maneuver only possible because we're all flying hundreds of feet above the ground.

“Enough.” With effort I restrain the mana in my voice – to avoid destroying him. “Creature. Service or death. Choose.” I deliver my ultimatum, having thoroughly tired of the polite charade.

I can feel him struggling against me, trying to flex his mana to break my grip, trying to invoke some chantless incantation that I crush as it forms, and finally just reaching up and trying to tear my fingers away from his throat with his hands. The worthless final struggles of a weakling. Once perhaps I would have been elated – to kill Celestials is what demons are built for, few things feel more right – but in my age I've found my interest waned, this is just …tedious. Finally the creature stops his futile resistance, hanging limply in my grasp, glaring his hatred between short labored breaths.

It would be nice if he were reasonable. He would be a useful servant. His knowledge would undoubtedly be valuable to me. But I can see in his eyes that it is not to be, his hatred and defiance shine like a beacon. Such things could be broken out of him – with time. There are many methods to control the heart of a man. But such things are beneath me – what use is a ruler that must first break and reshape their subjects after all? It smacks of incompetence, to take with force what should be freely offered, what should be presented gladly by willing fools. Thus, here there can be only one conclusion.

“...I will never serve you.” Quin Kaefirth whispers. Followed by a wet thud and his body going limp in my hand. The trident has reappeared, its tip now stained red, protruding from the Celestial man's back. Thrust up through his own heart in his final act of defiance. He is dead – at this range there can be no deception – so I drop him. His body slips out of my hand and plummets gracelessly into the water below. I track it with my eyes until it slips beneath the waves, a vague sense of disappointment washing over me.

“A fitting end for such as he.” Pink sounds elated at my side.

“A disappointing conclusion. More could have been learned. But enough. We press on.” I point out over the sea. “To Suprema.”