That night, Alsi dreamt that something was watching her. She dreamt that a voice hissed in contempt, as it rummaged through her recent memories, and she dreamt that eventually, it faded into her consciousness.

The next morning, when Alsi woke up, she thought nothing of it.

As she lay in bed, with her eyes just barely open, her eyes in slits, she looked upon the closed door to her room.

Alsi wondered half-heartedly if the events of last night had just been a dream, a nightmare, even. But she knew that was not the truth.

Alsi looked at the closed door, and knew a demon lay behind it.

No, not any demon, Alsi corrected herself. Casari is Koranor, Lord of the Fallen Host, He-Who-Suffers-Within-Crystal. Alsi paused. Of course, that last title doesn’t apply anymore, she realized. Somehow, Casari had broken free, and now, she was caught in the middle of his glorious vengeance.

It truly was odd to think that a monster from a story could somehow be pertinent to Alsi’s life. It was hard to believe that the legendary Casari had an interest in her. And yet, both statements were facts, and thus true.

Alsi rose from her bed, and looked about her small closet for something to wear. The closet was stocked with Makini uniform after Makini uniform, but the last thing Alsi wanted to do was wear something that reminded Casari of who she had been, before he had placed her life in his hands.

She put on a moderately revealing grey dress, which had been forced to the very back of the closet from lack of use. She brushed out her red hair, and then…she was done.

She did not know if Casari wanted her to leave the room. He had said nothing, one way, or the other. Alsi considered.

If Casari wanted me to stay in the room, he would have said so, Alsi decided. I’ll leave.

And so, she opened the door. At first, she opened it only a tiny crack, for she was nervous, but soon enough, it was all the way open, and an empty hallway beyond was completely visible.

Alsi wondered where all the murderers and scoundrels had gone. She stepped out into the hallway, closing the door to her room behind her.

Alsi’s heeled shoes made tiny clatters on the floor, that, due to the peculiar lack of noise, sounded like shouts.

She pierced the silence, and she had no desire to pierce anything. Indeed, Alsi just wanted to crawl into a little hole, and never come out again. But that was not an option.

And even as she stood in that hall, Casari came around the corner. “You look good,” he said.

The words seemed odd to be coming from a demon’s mouth, but Alsi accepted them, nevertheless.

And then, as she looked at Casari, she blinked, for he seemed different. The night before he had worn sea-drenched prison clothes, and had two bloodstained swords awkwardly buckled to his belt.

Now, he was attired differently.

He wore clean black leather armor he had found somewhere, and a single sword was buckled to the belt at his waist. He had brushed his hair back, and it arced down the back of his neck in a single, banded lock.

In short, he now looked less a demon from a nightmare, and more an honorable warrior.

The transformation seemed to be true, and yet, Alsi knew Casari’s appearance to be a sham. And yet, she could not help but feel a little more at ease by it.

Casari continued to walk forward, and outstretched a hand to her, the very image of a gentleman. “Come,” he said.

Alsi awkwardly stepped forward, and they interlocked arms, his left, to her right. And then, together, they walked down the abandoned hall.

They came up onto the deck. Though it was day, the sun was covered by cloud, and fog.

Here, it seemed, was where all the convicts had gone. To the direction of Darksail, men hoisted sails, checked inventories, and generally made the Wretched more and more their own with each passing moment.

As he saw Casari emerge from below deck, Darksail came over.

“Are all the bodies disposed of?” asked the demon.

“Tossed to the waves,” said Darksail. “Just as you asked, my lord.”

At this, Alsi wondered if my lord was truly the correct honorific for a demon. One of Casari’s other names, in legend, was Lord of the Fallen Host, but that, again, seemed to more of a name than a title.

But, in any case, Casari seemed to accept what Darksail called him, without complaint.

“Good,” he said. “Is the crew bending to your whim?”

“For the most part,” said Darksail. “However, as you well know, almost all of them are scum. I…”

But he trailed off, as a man with several missing teeth, and a pronounced hump, joined the discussion.

“How be things here?” the man asked, with an Amzu accent. He looked at Casari. “My lord.”

Again with the my lord? wondered Alsi. Did he tell them to call him that?

“Things are fine Gritch,” said Casari. “Get back to work.”

“I will, my lord,” said the humped man, inclining his head. “But I wonder, what of her?”

And Alsi realized that Gritch was referring to her.

“What do you mean?” asked Casari, injecting a small bit of venom into his voice.

“You let us kill all the others,” complained Gritch. “All the others. But that girl here, was the cause of more than a little personal pain. I want her dead, and so do many others.”

“You are bold,” said Casari, “to say such things. Do not begin to second guess me, or her fate. She will get what she deserves. But if you continue speaking to me as such, so will you.”

Gritch realized this was not an argument he would live to see the end of, if it continued, let alone win, and so he stalked off, back to work.

And so, Darksail continued. “He, and others like him, are what I am up with, my lord. They want women, they want vengeance, and they want other things that would make most people’s blood turn cold. I swear, I and the priest are the only ones with even a shred of decency, out of all the former prisoners.”

He seemed not to worry that Casari might take offense to that, and indeed, Casari did not. Instead, he asked, “If you have a shred of decency, Darksail, why do you work for me?”

Darksail laughed lightly. “Because, Lord of the Fallen Host, I see no better alternative. I am yours out of happenstance, out of fate, but nevertheless, I am yours.”

And Casari seemed satisfied with that answer.

“Can you give me our heading now?” asked Darksail, a moment later. “We’ve been plowing around in circles for some time. We have plenty of supplies, especially after so many died, and thus stopped needing to be fed, but we can’t remain out here forever.”

“I agree,” said Casari. “And so, I give you this ship’s destination. Nishae.”

“Nishae?” Darksail repeated, and for what Alsi thought to be good reason.

Nishae was the north port of the Makini. It was the center of all trade to and from the Frozen Lands, and had a heavy Makini garrison. As soon as the Wretched reached the port, it would be boarded, and all of the prisoners would be recaptured.

“Do not worry,” said Casari. “I have a plan. Now head there, and with all due speed.”

Darksail inclined his head, and then took leave of Casari, and Alsi.

During all this time, oddly enough, Casari and Alsi’s arms had still been interlocked.

Casari began to walk for the bow of the ship, and Alsi, thus chained, in a manner of speaking, had no choice but to follow him. Not that she had anywhere else to go.

At the bow of the ship, there was a figurehead of a gargoyle, wings outstretched. Isolated from the rest of the crew, which worked on the center, Casari and Alsi stopped.

Casari released Alsi, and then sat upon the back of the gargoyle, resting against the very prow of the ship, only a few inches from the far side of the railing, and the waiting sea below.

Alsi stood before him.

And as she watched, Casari closed his eyes. “You are not my first pupil,” he told her. “Mai was. I taught her much, but now, she is all alone. I will find her, but that is besides the point. My question is: what do you fear?”

Alsi was too intrigued by Casari’s other statements to answer the question. “What will you do when you find her?” she asked.

Casari’s words hardened a little. “As I said, that is besides the point,” he spoke. “Now, what do you fear?”

The first answer that came to Alsi’s mind was truly obvious. “You,” she said, looking at Casari, as he sat on the hind of the gargoyle, with its wings outstretched behind him. Due to a trick of the angle, and the lighting, it looked as if those backward wings belonged to Casari, and not the gargoyle. It looked as if those tormented wings were ripping out of his own back.

Alsi wondered what Casari would look like, if he shifted from the form of a man, to the demon form he had been born with. As horrible images leapt unbidden to her mind, she wished she had not thought of the question.

“You fear me?” asked Casari. “You do not need to. And yet, what one needs to do, and what one does, are two completely separate things entirely.” He paused. “What would I need to do, to make you not fear me?”

Alsi thought. “Die,” she said, surprised by her own boldness.

“That, I fear, is not something I will allow to happen any time soon,” said Casari. “Can you propose an alternative?” His eyes were still closed.

“No,” said Alsi.

“Then I believe we will have to let that particular fear fester within you for the time being,” said Casari. “Now, any others?”

“I am afraid of heights.”

Now, Casari opened his eyes. He got to his feet, and stepped up and backwards, upon the gargoyle’s back. He took another step back, and then another, until he balanced precariously upon the very stone head of the gargoyle. Casari looked perfectly balanced, but the sea, more than thirty feet below, at the prow, surrounded him on three sides.

“Do you fear for my safety?” he asked Alsi.

“No,” she responded.

“If I happen to die,” said Casari, “you would be left at the mercy of the freed prisoners. Now that I have forced your mind to make that connection, do you fear for my safety?”

“I don’t believe that if you fell, you would die, or even be in risk of the same. And I believe that you are in perfect control of your body right now,” said Alsi. “I don’t believe you would fall, even if a sudden wind rocked the ship.”

“You are specifying,” said Casari. “You are specifying, when you should be generalizing. Now that you realize that my end would bring yours as well, do you fear for my life?”

And Alsi realized that she did. She said as much.

“Good,” said Casari. “The first of many bonds to come has been forged between us. We both will be displeased in the other’s death.”

“Why do you care if I die?” asked Alsi.

“Because I have already vested a substantial amount of effort in you,” said Casari. “I would be displeased if all that effort went to waste.”

The words were cool and calculating, just the sort Alsi would expect from a demon. And for that reason, she believed he was telling the truth. Apparently they did both have interest in keeping the other alive. That thought was odd, but it was true. Casari and Alsi, just as the demon had said, had a mutual connection.

“So now we have come to a conclusion, that you fear me, but there is nothing that can happen to make the fear abate. In short, there is no reason to fear me, in particular, for there is no happy eventuality for you, which ends in my death. So, coming back to the first fear you mentioned, has it been vanquished, now?”

Alsi was slightly confused, but Casari’s logic did make sense, to a certain degree. She nodded.

“Good,” said Casari. “I shall now return to your second fear. Heights. Which are you more afraid of, a long and torturous death, or to stand where I am standing now?”

“You wouldn’t,” said Alsi.

“Of course not,” Casari responded. “Do or die methods can help, but I wish to mold you, not give you a way out. But, in the abstract, the question remains. Answer it.”

“I would stand where you are, of course,” said Alsi.

“Then do so.”

“But you said you wouldn’t…”

“And so I will not, even if you decide to stand there, instead of coming to me and facing your fears. But I ask you to come here, and prove me that you can do a simple thing that, with my nearby presence, does not risk your life in the slightest.”

And so, Alsi stepped up onto the gargoyle, and took a quick step forward, until she was on its back, and above the far below sea.

Unused to being in such a precarious position, unused to the winds, Alsi took a misstep. She would have plunged to her doom, except--

Except Casari held to his promise, and grasped her around the waist, so she did not fall.

As Casari repositioned himself, as to more easily hold her weight, she looked at him, at those gray eyes.

Alsi didn’t try to jerk away from him. A part of her understood the rational explanation for this, that she didn’t want another near-doom encounter, but another part didn’t want to jerk away simply because Casari was there. Alsi knew how odd and irrational the thought was, but it was a gut instinct, and those came and went without any direction from the conscious mind.

It was odd then, but a part of her rationalized away Casari’s demon existence. All he did was break free, Alsi thought. Is there anything so wrong with that? But then she reminded herself that Casari had allowed the deaths of all the crew on the ship, save her. That could have been nothing more than simple vengeance, that any man wanted against his captors, if given the chance, but--

But, more than anything else, Alsi’s odd, delusional thought was odd, and delusional not just because of what she had seen Casari do, but, in addition, what he was. Casari was a demon. He was Lord of the Fallen Host, and a thousand years ago, he and his armies had almost brought down the Arathou Dynasty, almost brought down the natural order of things.

Alsi paused, in thought. She could think of nothing more evil than that. For his crimes, Casari had been locked in a crystal to spend eternity with nothing but his mind, contemplating his fate.

And Casari had endured that for a thousand years, and now he was free. After a millennia of nothingness, Alsi didn’t understand how he could still be sane. She doubted he was. Alsi knew Casari existed as a shell that wanted to bring down the world, and keep it down this time.

And yet, all that could not keep some sick, twisted part of her, from being attracted to the human form he wore as a guise.

“Have I begun to fix you?” Casari purred. “Have I begun to make you realize the irrationality of fear?”

“Perhaps you have,” said Alsi. “But to what purpose?”

“That,” said Casari, “is not something you need to worry about yet. As we are on a ship, I will use a related metaphor: I am at the helm.”

Alsi was suddenly frightened, and, in response, she said nothing.

But Casari knew the reason of her hesitation. “Don’t wait for me to tell you it is all right to speak your mind.”

“I…” said Alsi, trailing off, as she felt Casari’s oddly smooth hands supporting her. “I… Do you know where you are going?”

“I have a plan,” said Casari. “But, if life tells us anything, it tells us that only the past is etched in stone. I know what I wish to happen, but I do not know what will.” He paused. “Once, I thought I did. Once, I thought it was granted that I would succeed. But now I realize the truth. I am humble.”

He did not look humble. Except…

Alsi looked into Casari’s grey eyes, once more. They did not look angry. They did not look confident, or amused. They looked sad.

It could have been an act, Alsi supposed. In fact, it likely was. But looking into Casari’s eyes, she did not understand how the demon could fake such pure emotion.

“You diverted the question,” said Alsi. “Do you know where you are going?”

And at that moment, the demon seemed very much like a man.

“Of course not.”