The inside of the temple is dark, so with a thought I summon a wisp of green light, floating high in the air above me. The dark volcanic rock of the temple swallows the light effortlessly, leaving the corners of the room shrouded in shadow despite the wisp. There are any number of solutions to the low visibility, but I'm content to wait for my eyes to adjust as they are wont to do. This body of mine makes such small changes automatically, my eyes adjusting for low light or fast moving targets, the strength in my arms ratcheting upwards when I attempt something physically demanding, and a million other such tiny details – a result of my peculiar brand of magic no doubt.

If I wanted, I could force the transformation instantly, or engulf the room in flames, or simply will light to fill the space around me. But there is no particular need. There is nothing dangerous here – to me at least – so the darkness is irrelevant. Going out of my way to alter it would be showing the beast that lurks here undue respect. The wisp just ensures I don't accidentally place so much as a shiny black heel in the disgusting muck that coats the floor. Behind me I can hear squelching noises – of many boots wetly detaching themselves from slime before being engulfed once more – a low clatter of armor and a nervously cleared throat.

All of which I ignore, observing the room before me. It's a simple chamber – the stone floor mostly obscured by muck – the walls to the left and right and behind unbroken but for the two portals that allow entry. Opposite where we entered, maybe thirty feet away and past a small rise of stone steps, another stone archway leads deeper into the temple. The antechamber we're standing in is barren, but for volleys of those organic spears lodged into the walls and a stone structure of some sort that has been toppled and crushed at the top of the stairs. No more humans, in this room at least, so I am spared the stench for a moment.

Behind us the two doors stand, one still shut tight and barred against the world, the other hanging loosely on its hinges – smashed into multiple pieces by the passage of the Unbound. From this side I can see the Rune Formations engraved into the wall, surrounding the two doors, a simple defensive magic – its strength cleverly redoubled when both halves of the Formation are intact. It's actually something of an ingenious design, the result of a clever mage with very limited tools, when the doors are closed the Rune Formation is completed and the magic activates – when they're open the magic is inert. Further, this is a temple, the Formations draw on the power of the God that is worshiped here, in theory the magic will not run dry and should be nearly impregnable. Unfortunately for the humans, their adversary managed to penetrate the walls in many places with its spears and their oozing corruption – no wonder the magic did not hold, no matter how much power was behind it.

Irrelevant. I focus my thoughts. I can sense Emily somewhere nearby but I don't turn to look at her. This is an important step, I have something of a plan after all now my anger has settled slightly. I roll that thought around in my head as I lead Emily and the tagalongs deeper into the temple. It's rare for me to have a plan. Rare for me to encounter a situation where such a thing is needed. Few problems cannot be solved with the proper application of simple brute force and those problems can generally be handled by subordinates. So what to do when there are a few things of value here in this temple, as my senses confirm, but no useful servants at hand?

Pink might be able to handle this, but she's currently busy and time is …somewhat pressed. The amount of leeway I have until the world has spiraled past the point of recovery is unclear, my senses are too easily duped by the Unbound to be relied on, but it has become increasingly clear that the matter is urgent. And was made more urgent today, by the fool doves …and by my inaction, I admit grudgingly. So, distasteful as it is, taking some personal action here is probably appropriate. Maybe I owe the world at large that much… even as the thought crosses my mind I have to suppress a small mirthless laugh – for me to owe anyone anything. Absurd. Laughable.

“Milord… what are we doing? The lady clearly has no want or need for us here…” An urgent whisper breaks the silence.

“Father tasked us with escorting her.” An unhappy voice replies tersely, as if that is explanation enough.

Truthfully I'm slightly confused that the humans have followed me. Emily I expected but they are factors I did not account for. Well any value they might add to an equation is so infinitely close to zero I don't really have to worry about factoring them in. Leading the little group further into the temple – through the stone arch – we step into some sort of secondary antechamber, that widens out and has a number of small doors dotting the walls and a single massive and ornate pair of double doors opposite where we entered. I can make out a solemn red carpet, largely obscured by the muck on the floor, that runs the length of the room.

Along with a number of doors, tightly shut and barred each one, the sides of this room are home to a number of open displays of wealth and religious symbolism. Murals and paintings on the walls themselves, low stone columns with trinkets – some magical – sitting atop them nestled in little recesses in those walls. A massive chandelier of black crystal hangs in the middle of the room, as if the person who decorated it felt it was important to impress their vast wealth on any visitors but also their piousness – faced with these warring directives they wrestled with choosing something large and expensive, or something more small and tasteful, until unable to decide they just settled on “large and expensive but with a subdued color”.

I hope there was nothing terribly important to the humans here though, because its all been destroyed. The purple slime trail is everywhere in this room, even up on the walls in some places, as if some beast with a large bulk had gone about purposefully stepping on every expensive human trinket it could find. The trail of rubble is almost as obvious as the trail of slime and the volleys of spears that deface every vaguely artistic touch in the room make it clear that this was no accident. The only thing still mostly intact is the gaudy black crystal chandelier, spared because it wasn't noticed so high off the ground maybe.

A mural of a human hunched over a forge is irreparably defaced by the addition of a half dozen dark spears. There are a number of stone limbs scattered to and fro about the room – the remains of an uncertain number of statues that probably lined the walls until recently. To my left half a human face stares up at me from the floor, the other half reduced to so much stone dust and rubble after being exposed to pressures well beyond its ability to withstand. The walls weep the disgusting purple ooze, leaking from the spears embedded all along their length. The twenty foot high double doors opposite us were likely a work of art until recently – now they are stained dark with the muck and embedded with a huge number of spears – left hanging askew, the trail of slime disappears behind them. A scene of rapid and deliberate destruction, it somewhat confirms my suspicions.

“According to the scarred one, we were only half an hour behind the beast – it has worked very quickly hasn't it?” I speak aloud to no one in particular. Keeping my eyes forward, peeled for the slightest sign of movement from beyond those doors – I don't want ooze on my skin thank you very much – has the added benefit of sparing me the effort of trying to read the annoying human body language and facial expressions of the tagalongs.

“…scarred one?” Karr's voice mutters.

“She's right. This is unnatural. Why is it here? Why did it beeline for this place?” Gordan's voice is considering.

“Does it matter? Why do the Unbound do anything? It probably just smelled more …food here than anywhere else. The real question is why we are in here after it… We could be at Headquarters by now – passed this task to more capable hands.” Karr says.

“What an absurd and imbecilic theory. In the first place monsters – and by extension your 'Unbound' – subsist on mana, they have no need for human flesh, or flesh of any variety.” Ignoring Karr's indignant sputtering that follows that statement I press on. “Why do you think the creature has made its way here Emily?”

“Hah? What does it matter? Who knows why the Unbound do what they do? They're indiscriminate killing machines. More importantly, there might be survivors in these side rooms. It looks like the slime trail doesn't extend beyond their doorways. We have to check!” Emily says and I hear the sloppy squelching noises of someone moving through the slime - presumably she is heading across the room toward the closest door. The girl seems to have snapped out of her moping at least.

And she's right, a part of my mind notes distantly. The small man-sized doors don't show any evidence of anything having passed through them lately – probably the Unbound beastie was too large, if I were to hazard a guess. A larger part of me is roaring, indignant, thirsty for blood – that she would ignore me? After I went to the trouble of vocalizing in her pathetic human tongue, subduing the overwhelming magical pressure that imbues my voice… Distantly I can hear a rattling and I turn to see the impertinent girl fiddling with the handle of a door shes made her way over to.

“…locked.” She mutters dispiritedly.

“Just…” A dozen impolite things nearly escape me but with effort I contain myself, an unfamiliar experience I assure you. “Just open it if you want to girl.”

“Emily.” She corrects absently, before turning a subtle expression my way. “I would open it, but it's locked.”

“Just grip and pull girl, I imagine you are capable of that much?” Acid is creeping into my voice, so after dispensing that sage advice I turn away once more, resolving not to look back for these fools again.

“'Grip and pull'? Thank you so much, I don't know what I would do without-”

*crack*

Finally the inevitable happens, as one would expect when you pit the physical strength of one of my Chosen – even one created in such haphazard and shall we say unique circumstances as hers – against a plank of wood and a bit of stone and mortar. I don't know which bit in that equation gave way first – but I'm confident it wasn't her arm. And since she's surprised herself into silence I'm blessedly spared more of her – I don't even know what to call what she's doing – I almost liked her better mute and moping.

I saved the girls life you know? Without my intervention that pathetic little burned sack of flesh Martin brought before me was surely not long for this world. You would think that would endear me to her a little. People have sworn oaths of eternal fealty to me for much less. And even though I'm spending this moment recalling all the harsh training I endured with Pink before we came to this city that I might be better able to deal with the insolence of idiotic lesser creatures – my ire has been rising unchecked the longer I spend in this Emily's company, despite my valiant efforts towards first acceptance, then indifference.

I've never had someone react this way after receiving my Blessing. She doesn't act like a servant at all! Infuriating. Well, mildly annoying at least.

Which is why I ignore her antics. An exclamation of disappointment from her direction is heard and immediately discarded. Stalking forward, deeper into this disgusting cesspit created by some wretched corrupted monster, green fire ignites at my fingertips, sparking and dancing at my sides – a tiny reflection of the frustration I'm feeling. The knowledge that the constant exposure to the corruption is likely responsible to some degree for this disturbance in my emotions …does not help at all actually.

“Do you know why the Knight Class came here Lady Alexandria?” Gordan asks from behind me, oblivious to my anger.

“Perhaps human. I have …a theory. Hopefully by following the foul thing here it might be proved or disproved, we shall see.” I reply, the fire creeping larger around my hands. “If you have some method to survive in extreme heat – I suggest you deploy it now.”

Having reached halfway through this second antechamber I judge this to be far enough and even courteously extend a warning to the fools who followed me here. Sleep is good for stress relief. But since that's not on the table, a bit of magic might work – at the very least it should do something about the stench. I don't do anything fancy, just concentrate, form the image in my head, imagine heat of the kind that has no place in this world. The patch of stone in front of me is illuminated a brighter green, as the magic strains against the vessel that is my body, spilling out that lovely emerald light through the Rune Tattoos inscribed on my flesh for just that purpose, intricate and beautiful murals appearing on my skin for just a moment to direct my power – make my will reality – before the magic is released.

“What?! What of the ceasefire?” A panicked voice sounds behind me.

“…worry not human. This is… merely cleaning…” I say, distracted by the flames dancing to life all around me. The crackling inferno blazing alive in my head granting me a moment of clarity, of peace from the buzzing annoyances that have been troubling me for years beyond counting – as they are burned from my thoughts, if only for an instant. A neat trick I stumbled across whilst combating an overlarge tree.

And that's when things get a bit hectic, as my mana surges around me – heat radiates outwards. I lose my words a bit, focusing too much on ensuring precision because it is absolutely vital here, if I don't want this pathetic temple collapsing around my ears. Keeping the heat contained – spreading through the slime at my feet and then expanding outwards through the foul liquid, localized so it doesn't go beyond the building. Immediately it steams and bubbles, a wave of superheated vapor rising, heating beyond the point where it can maintain even as a gas, being further broken down into its component parts – dissipating into the air as I activate the Rune that's formed on my palm, an important step that prevents errant explosions from this sort of magic.

There are better ways, of course. But it feels good to just burn something into nothing – I've always had an affinity for fire, if I were some sort of shamanistic elementalist I would certainly be a firecaller. For an instant the air all around us – all throughout the building – is ominously hot, distantly I hear a creak of strained stone, before I activate my second spell; redirecting this expected spillover into the double doors in front of me. They hold for nearly a whole second, before incinerating into nothing – so much ash in the wind – and my magic is complete. The green fire disappears from my hands while the room cools in step with my temper, as expected mass incineration is slightly cathartic.

The slime trail is gone – the slime is gone – and maybe the wretched beast leaving it behind was roasted along with it, though I'm doubtful. The cleansing fire has spread through the entire temple, leaving behind a musky scent of ash – a bit comforting actually, just like home. It wasn't visually impressive, just a sudden and extremely brief explosion of steam, but that's fine – it was efficient. And the way forward has been opened – incidentally so has every other way, my magic seems to have gotten away from me a bit and incinerated every door instead of just the ones I targeted. Further evidence of the slight deterioration of my ability to control my magic, annoying. More annoying is the drumbeat of corruption resettling upon me, more noticeable now after its brief absence.

Lightly letting my feet drop to the newly clean stone floor, I turn back to where my servant – where Emily – was and find something surprising. Instead of a surly servant and a collection of charred corpses, a shiny black cocoon has sprung up almost directly behind me. Looking closely it's actually three huge black feathers, improbably woven together to form a barrier. As I watch they slowly unravel, coming unlinked and slowly shrinking as the mana that was infusing them is withdrawn – revealing four annoying humans and one annoying servant, still standing in a small patch of muck that escaped destruction. All notably not blackened by fire.

Emily steps forward and her skin, normally an almost bronze color, has paled to an unusual parchment white – veins standing in stark relief against suddenly sallow skin. Her healthy luster, so recently regained, has flown and even her steps are stumbling and uncertain. The cause is obvious, her mana is nearly entirely depleted and as she walks towards me she looks shaken and weak and beautifully mortal. Her eyes are another matter entirely though, they are entirely uncowed, boring back into mine with feverish intensity – hard and accusatory.

“You…” She says, nearly a whisper.

“It seems you can draw out some rather impressive magic, given proper stimulation. It would be much more impressive if it weren't a shoddy replication of my magic – but I suppose with your level of ability and knowledge even shoddy replications are something to be proud of.” I praise her honestly – truthfully impressed by her adaptiveness and lightning reflexes.

“You just tried to kill us all!” She shouts back, ignoring my praise.

Very deliberately, I raise a hand to my mouth and stifle a theatrical yawn, wings flaring behind me as I face down the whelp.

“If I had tried to kill you, you would be dead. Do not doubt that truth.” I say, meeting her accusatory glare with my old practiced smile. “Your body is undoubtedly strong enough that even had you taken no action you would not have died – a bit singed around the edges at the worst.”

“Even if that's true, what of Gordan and his men?” She asks.

“What of them Emily? I dismissed them some time ago, I can't help if they wander into dangerous situations of their own accord. Especially that one.” I turn my slightly narrowed gaze on the man called Karr, who has survived despite the improbable odds.

The humans all seem slightly stupefied, gazing off dumbly into space – but at being singled out the man with the scar flinches away, terror filling his face. Our words seem to snap the other humans out of their stunned state as well, the two heavily armored men taking wary steps backwards and holding their spears aloft – not quite pointing them at me but obviously considering. Gordan doesn't move though, he just drops his hands – which had been midway through weaving some sort of defensive spell – and sends me a plaintive glance.

“There is the matter of the ceasefire, milady.” Gordan says carefully, diplomatic despite his recent brush with death.

“Ceasefire or whatever – you can't just kill people Alexandria!” Emily shouts angrily.

I shrug. “I thought that once too. However, humans are truthfully surprisingly fragile creatures – their regenerative abilities are nearly zero and they are filled to the brim with delicate components that are integral to their functioning, losing even one or two of those bits results in death more often than not. And they are actually quite vulnerable to all sorts of methods of attack, from complex soul magic rituals all the way down to just being bashed over the head with a rock – humans are almost entirely devoid of natural protections.

"Of course they occasionally produce powerful mages or warriors that are more durable but even-”

“That is …*cough*… not what I meant!” Emily interrupts, with a face that looks sickly and nauseous. “You have …some sort of alliance do you not? Would you betray your allies? Betray your word? And you claim to want to save the world.” She practically spits.

With effort I restrain the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose – or some equally petulant and telling outward sign of my annoyance. Letting myself be baited into that sort of response is well beneath my dignity, it would undoubtedly be taken as a sign of weakness. Instead I reiterate to myself the intrinsic value of the creature before me – something very like a proper demon and more importantly something personally crafted by my hand. Destroying it would thus be doubly a waste of my energy.

“That's right Emily. It's an important point to remember, the ultimate goal here…” is regaining the ability to sleep, the thought flits across my mind morosely. “…is saving the world.” I say aloud. “It will not be a bloodless road but it is a road I must walk. We must walk. And I cannot – will not – be expected to mind every insect that crawls beneath my feet. I gave my dismissal, discharged my responsibility.” I toss out some placating words.

“Insects.” She spits, hacking up a mouthful of blood – apparently the toll she paid for her little magic trick was quite high. “They are human beings and you are a Gods damned monster!” Her nonsensical fury is palpable. For a moment longer she meets my eyes, her face pale drawn and etched with anger, before spinning on her heel to face Gordan.

“A fair enough as-” I begin but she's already begun speaking again. And again I'm forced to push down a rush of murderous intent that washes over me. It's not difficult really because what I'm feeling is more akin to annoyance than anger, the problem – as it were – is that for a great many years my go to, and indeed only, response to annoyance has been murder – liberally applied to the offending party and anyone standing in their immediate vicinity.

“Gor- …Lord Clearwater, let us begone from that. It is clear that here we are neither needed nor wanted and whatever that creature has promised you – it obviously has no intention of honoring its words.” She says before turning her attention to the doorway she recently opened, beyond lies a dark passageway that leads deeper into the building. “There might yet be people we can save.”

Unexpectedly, Gordan is shaking his head, his face unreadable. “I can't do that young lady, unless she's right Lady Alexandria? You intend to break off your agreement with my father?”

“What in the hells are you saying man, we have to get out of here, that thing is go-” A second voice hisses briefly before terminating abruptly with a muffled thud and an unnatural exhalation of breath. Out of the corner of my eye I see one of the guards has slammed the butt of his spear into Karr's gut. Pity he used the wrong end of the spear…

My smile feels awkward on my face, stiff, unnatural even. For this child to disrespect me so, for me to be forced to simply endure. It is a slightly novel sensation, but not one I'm terribly fond of. Hopefully that isn't showing on my face, in my stance, through the fluctuations of my mana – or in any of the other myriad of ways a person might try to read me. It wouldn't do for me to appear weak.

“Of course not. Since you are the Duke's broodling I accounted for the fact that I might be asked to make some further concession if your father found you died in my company – especially if it came as a direct or indirect result of my magic. That's the general purpose of entrusting a weakling that is directly linked to the Bloodline of your Clan to an ally is it not? So the Clan might benefit when …the tragic but inevitable happens.

“Rest assured, whatever value he attached to your life I would be able to pay in full. Or Pink would be able to in my stead more likely. I admit I was surprised he opened with such an obvious gambit after securing our tentative alliance but I suppose with the circumstances being what they are he has little to lose. I can respect that sort of ambition. Reminds me of home really. Though on Artas you'd likely have been felled by an assassin sent by your father by now, can't be too sure about these things after all. In fact, if I were you I'd keep a wide eye on those two he sent with you.” I reassure the man, and offer a bit of advice.

At my words they all go silent. The humans send strange and unreadable gazes in my direction. Even Emily, who has been working herself up to leave – has stopped before taking a step – and is still angrily glaring at me but now with an expression tainted by something I can only read as “confusion”. I don't really understand their reactions. This sort of politicking is the lifeblood of any society is it not? Even if the exact methods aren't the same, the general principles should be sound no matter where in the world you go or who you interact with. Any society is all about power and any alliance is the same. About extracting as much of it as you can from your allies while surrendering as little as possible to them in turn.

The game is finding the correct buttons to push, the correct cards to play, to gather as much power as possible. Those cards come in all shapes and sizes, in forms beyond counting. Marriages and the exploitation of familial bonds. Magical and physical techniques. Resources you have, or don't have, or might have that other people want. Individuals notable for their abilities or birthrights. There is value to be found in anything and everything – to be carefully bartered among allies, or taken by force from enemies.

I, of course, do not typically dabble in such things. For a great many years a great many people simply delivered the things they considered valuable to my feet, so my skills at politicking have deteriorated. In truth its been long since there was something I wanted that I did not just demand with the promise of overwhelming force threatened at any failure to comply. But I'm not stupid, I know how these things work – even if I don't generally partake.

“…well I suppose it's good you don't intend to renege on your promise. I believe I'll need to have some words with my father though…” Clearwater the younger murmurs, looking decidedly not reassured.

“A Demon Lord does not break her word human. I assure you there is no one alive who will tell you differently.” I remind him of that old truth, the one every demon knows. Demons don't lie, or at the very least they don't get caught lying. The one's that do are failures of the worst kind – the incompetent kind.

“I'm going.” Emily cuts in. “I don't understand what game you two are playing and I don't care. The both of you sicken me.” And she stalks away, into the darkened side passage, leaving me with only humans for company.

No one reacts particularly, or moves to stop her, and she quickly disappears around a corner. Her low light vision must be superb to move around in those cramped and dark corridors outside the light of my wisp I note. That's fine, not exactly what I planned, but probably still workable. Thinking so I circulate my mana a bit, sending a jostle of energy along the conduit that links the two of us – nothing significant, just a reminder of its existence – a reminder that she is linked to me, like it or not.

“Don't die while you're crawling around back in there Emily, your mana is dangerously depleted. Feel free to lean on my strength though.” I call after her with a smile. She hasn't been drawing on my mana at all – well she only “cast” the one “spell” so that's understandable – but whether because she doesn't know how or because of some principled stand she's making is unclear. She gives no response to my words, despite the fact that she probably heard them. That's probably response enough.

“Is that …alright?” Gordan asks.

“Of course, there's nothing living in that direction. At worst she stumbles on a corrupted monster I'm not sensing but it's not like that will kill her. Even if she collapses entirely, her body should be durable enough that she won't die.” I respond, shaking my head and reorienting myself.

“Nothing living? But …isn't she searching for survivors?” Gordan presses.

“Seems she is. Maybe she knows something I don't? I haven't really gone out of my way to confirm one way or the other so that's possible – maybe her senses are keener than mine. I'm judging based on my mana sense – and that's telling me there's nothing alive, nothing with any amount of mana, in that direction – of course a proper spell would tell me much more surely but I don't really care and it's not as if the girl asked for my help.” I say, my eyes narrowing slightly in annoyance, despite my efforts.

“She's quite the inscrutable one. She's not even human herself, yet she has such strong feelings for them. For you even.” I throw Gordan a cool sidelong glance. “A curious passion. But that is her privilege I suppose, the privilege of the young. To be so suicidally driven by their incomprehensible emotional impulses. Even on Artas it was so – though the various demonic impulses are actually fairly easy to understand. Children are always so eager to prove something, so sure they know better.” Not that that makes it forgivable.

“I doubt she knows anything, she just looked dead on her feet and half-crazed with desperation.” Gordan murmurs.

I just shrug. Reminding myself of my priorities. It's true my most recent and most annoying servant has made herself scarce for now. But it's no matter. I'm confident things will work out favorably for me no matter what happens next. I can recognize the worth of that brand of recklessness, that bond of empathy she has that I do not – if it can be turned to my purposes… well only if I can convince myself to let something so disrespectful live. But for now I have a “Knight Class” I've resolved to deal with, since it seems intent on making an obstacle of itself. I limply lift my arm, pointing ahead at the demolished double doors. Something is stirring in the deep shadows of that next room. A glimmer of motion, a feeling of wrongness. And a deep throb of uncomfortable holy energy pulsing through the ground, cleverly concealed but unmistakable at this range.

“I'm going that way.” I declare for my entourage's benefit. Last chance to scurry away for the little humans. So I'm somewhat surprised when I cross the threshold and find the four humans still improbably in tow.