Connor paused in his gathering of the meager energy provided by his remaining prisoners. All his hunters had died in rapid succession. He rubbed the Soul Burn Crystal as he thought and it gave off a few desultory sparks as if to show its disappointment with the meal he was providing. Clearly the demon wolves had found their prey, or more accurately their prey had found them. What Connor didn’t understand was how the boy had recovered so quickly. The crystal’s effects should have left him incapacitated for weeks. Perhaps the demon sword had recovered and he was using its power. Connor had no idea how the crystal would affect a spirit.

“Troubles, oh mighty warlock?” The imp in the mirror cackled.

Speaking of difficult to deal with spirits. He would have dearly loved to test the crystal on the mirror demon, but it was only a window into hell not a proper portal, and demonic energy wouldn’t serve his purposes anyway. He doubted he could draw so much as a drop of useful soul force out of the stupid creature.

“No, my prisoner is returning to surrender.”

“Ha! If that’s true I’ll never speak another word.”

That statement was enough to make Connor wish his jest had been true. But a jest it remained. There was no way Damien would allow himself to be captured again, and since Connor only had one urn he wouldn’t be able to overwhelm the boy. Pity to kill him; Connor would never find a power source as potent as Damien. Still, at least dead he would no longer be a threat, and there were sorcerers aplenty in the world. He’d just have to replace quality with quantity.

He tested the energy gathered in the crystal, almost enough for a final summoning before the battle. What shape should his final ally take? Connor smiled when the obvious answer came.

He concentrated and crystal grew out of the floor, flowing into an armored figure wielding a large sword. Pity it wasn’t black, but the construct was a fair likeness of the late Mikhail Santen. The crystal demon wouldn’t have nearly the power of the true black knight, but maybe its appearance would give Damien a moment’s pause; the two of them had fought often enough after all.

The collected soul force reached sufficient levels and he sent it pouring into the portal over his head. Black lightning struck the crystal Mikhail. The crystal shifted as the demon spirit made itself at home. It didn’t alter the basic shape too much which pleased Connor.

When the corrupt energy had fully integrated with the crystal lattice he ordered it to take up position at the entrance of the cavern. A rather feeble first line of defense, but it was something. Connor flew down to the bottom level, retrieved his urn from a narrow niche he’d carved in the cavern wall, and flew back up to the prisoners’ level. The soft-hearted boy would certainly pause to rescue them. That would be the perfect time for Connor to strike.

He drew dark power from his core and shaped a little trap for Damien. The boy would never see it coming.