Perhaps it was from a newfound confidence, or perhaps the magic had reinvigorated his tired body, but Willem nevertheless found himself striding through the sprawling encampment quite happily. The wind-tousled grass was far emptier now that many of the humans had gone. Joy had ordered them off to the nearby villages, from what he had heard, in search of lumber and other supplies that would be needed. Just one look at the ravenous army of demons scattered through the hills, and Willem knew that they would need supplies abound. Just food alone could prove to be a problem; an army marching on an empty stomach was problem indeed, particularly when half of them were more beast than man.

Many of the demons were wrestling in the dirt, their movements quickly churning it into a mixture of mud and torn grasses. Blood dripped from the occasional wound, blending into a sticky consistency that clung to the hide. The air itself was thick with sweat and heat, the exerted sounds of grunts and snorts punctuating their movements. Every so often there would be a break in the impasse—a sudden lunge, teeth darting out and snapping at the throat—and one side would fall back. A scuffle of limbs and claws swiftly ensued as the parties writhed and struggled in the dirt, each one sliding and clambering in a fight for dominance. In the end, one would stand above the other with teeth at his throat, claws digging into his hide deep enough to draw blood. The pause that followed would be broken by a hiss of subordinance, both demons relaxing in acquiescence. They would bear their scars proudly; the wounds would always heal swiftly with their stout constitution.

As Willem neared, several of the new pups perked their ears at his arrival. With the inept curiosity of the youthful, they ran towards him in a bounding jumble of hide and stubby limbs. Their teeth were short and sharp, more like needles than daggers, and their claws were not nearly long enough to be curved knives. Yet there was a danger in their careless enthusiasm; Willem had seen those newborns split trees in their playful frenzy.

Their hides were covered in runic markings, their wide bodies covered in still-growing muscle. Yet before he could firmly make out any other of their features, they were already upon him with high-pitched yaps. Not quite old enough to talk properly, three of them tackled his legs a surprising weight for their size. One even jumped with stumpy legs, clinging onto Willem’s arm with a squeal of excitement. Willem struggled to shake them off of him, yet the sudden assault left him winded and off-balance. With a sudden weightless sensation, he felt the world around him spin on a strange axis before he struck the ground with a thud.

The pups were only further excited by this, yelping incessantly as they hurriedly clambered over him as if to weigh him down. One of them launched itself at his throat, its short teeth not enough to break through Willem’s hide yet just long enough to cling on like a leech. Willem pushed down his irritation, knowing that he would not be able to stifle their enthusiasm. Instead, he wrapped his claws around the throat of the closest one, nipping at its ears and skin with sharp teeth. It was not enough to draw blood; it was merely a playful gesture that elicited yet another round of high-pitched squeals.

Ignoring the two that clung to his legs, Willem flipped over onto his chest in a deft movement. Pinning the pup to the ground, he peeled off its clawed grip, settling his jaws around its jumping throat. Almost instantly, its body went tense and still, even its breathing halted as it became a thing of stone. With one pup down, Willem then turned his attention towards the other two, catching them one by one as they ran about in hysterical madness. When they were all pinned and accounted for, he was panting hard with exertion. Even with this new body of his, physical intensity had never been his strong suit. Even these pups had more endurance than him; even after their brief bout, they were up and bounding with an unchecked energy, as if nothing had even happened. With little else to worry over except play, they took to that task with a religious devotion, proceeding to tussle in the mud and slather all manner of muck over their hide.

In that manner, Willem mused as he stood up and brushed the grasses and dirt off of his skin, they were no different from the human children that he knew. In spite of their saurian appearance, with rough, mottled hide and studded scutes, their scaly hearts beat just the same as any fleshy counterpart. So different in body, and yet so similar in mind and soul. Just like you, some distant voice in the corner of his mind whispered, and he felt an unbidden shiver run down his spine. Aye, he was human on the inside, no matter what strange company he chose to keep. Is that what you tell yourself? The voice spoke again, but he pushed it down as he walked. He had no time for pointless musings and distractions; there was war on the horizon, and there was work to be done.

He finally found Kha talking to a group of soldiers. The legionaries seemed rather hesitant, to say the least, from the pale looks of nervous terror that they wore on their faces. Yet the thing that stuck out the most to Willem was how young they all were; perhaps no older than him in spite of the steel they wore on their shoulders. War makes men out of us all, he remembered what some of the Swords had been saying in camp, and it seemed no truer than now.

Kha was treating a wound, from what it seemed. Water swirled around the demon’s claws, gently washing clean a rather large gash too ragged to have been from a blade, and yet too large to have been a mere graze. Had the man fallen on a tree? Willem could only snort and toss his head in disbelief, refusing to accept that these fools were expected to take a life.

As Kha finished bandaging the wound, Willem walked up beside. Seeing him approach, the other legionaries all gave tentative mutterings before hurriedly leaving, the one man clutching his arm with a strange mixture of horror and admiration. It was strange how often the two emotions accompanied one another—opposites of a spectrum, yet so often arriving in tandem.

“Why were you healing them?” Willem asked Kha casually, not expecting much of a reply. He was surprised when he got one.

“These men will fight… for us… ought to learn their names… their stories… “ the demon hissed, blinking those slitted eyes in a disturbingly slow motion before rising out of his crouched stance. That reptilian gaze rose to meet his, and Willem once more felt the strange nervousness that swallowed him whenever he spoke with the demon. “Why do you come?” Kha asked.

In response, Willem did not speak. Upturning a scaled palm, he pulled down into the pit of his stomach for the strands of mahji that dwelt within. Yet rather than trying to catch them, he merely tugged and guided them, feeling them flow of their own accord through his tired limbs like water from a redirected river. The purple ribbons hissed and crackled through his flesh under his skin before slowly unraveling out of his claws. Once they touched the air, they seemed to split and multiply, scattering into minute strands that in turn disappeared into dust. Yet rather than blowing in the wind, this dust seemed to bring wind of its own.

The air around Willem’s hand began to most ever faster, swiftly condensing around his palm in a small sphere of rotating wind that blew the dust at almost dangerous speeds. “I did it.” Willem whispered, his eyes gleaming with a barely repressed excitement as he felt the frenetic mahji coursing through his veins. It was a frantic power, a crackling energy that demanded to be used. This mere demonstration was not enough, he needed more. Now that the door was finally open to him, just how large could his magic grow?

“So you have… “ Kha murmured, a thin smile snaking across those lips, and Willem suppressed a shiver. Taking in a deep breath, he slowly tugged the mahji back inside of himself in a difficult gesture; the ribbons resisted losing their brief freedom, and a part of him was loathe to take it away from them. That exhilarating rush of strength and power was addicting, and pushing it away only seemed to leave him empty and feeble in comparison. He hurried to change the subject, to turn his mind away from the desire to channel magic once more.

“The pups, what brought them about?” he asked. The question had been nagging at him ever since the demons had all brooded eggs on the banks of the Yearning. Yet whenever he had asked one of the demons, they did not even seem to know what had brought it about. Willem had suspected that Kha might now—the strange demon seemed to have closer ties to godly beings that he ought to, from the snippets of conversations with the Demon King that Willem had overheard. Life, they had been discussing, and was it not life that had spawned on those muddy riverbanks?

Kha gave a pause before responding, tilting his head upwards towards the sky. “Ajah… lord of light and life… he gave a gift to those deemed… worthy… “ he finally spoke, no louder than a whisper. Kneeling down in the dirt, he carefully picked up a small clod of dirt no larger than a pebble, rolling it in his palm to become smaller still. “A seed of life… “ he murmured, raising the small ball of dirt between his claws. Perhaps it was a mere trick of the light, or perhaps his eyes were failing him, but Willem could have sworn that he saw that brown surface shimmer white for a brief instant before Kha tossed it through the air with a casual flick.

“A gift… “ Willem murmured, and his thoughts flickered to himself.