Quill kept his body between the demon and Cinder. It was almost disappointing looking at it. A creature of legend from a race vanquished a decade before he was born. Said to hold the power to tear down mountains with a thought and boil oceans, reduced to a huddled mass in chains. Bits of moldy straw poked out from between clumps of blood and grime in its long silver hair. Emaciated muscles tensed under skin caked in dried blood. Is this really a demon? It looks so… frail.

Cinder walked around the room with a slight glow in her eyes. “Well whatever was linking here with there seems to be gone. Phineas would know better though.”

“I’m more concerned with the immediate problem of a demon in this house.” Quill nudged the demon’s arm with his foot. He felt no small amount of relief that there wasn’t a response.

“Do you really expect someone in this state to be a threat? I doubt she could stand on her own, let alone kill us. And move, I need to treat her injuries.”

Quill shook his head. “I’m not letting you get closer to that thing. I don’t care how injured it looks. How do you know it’s not a trap?”

“Because one of us has trained her entire life as a healer and can recognize when another creature is suffering? Move. Now.”

Quill wavered in front of her for a moment, trying to think of anything to convince her of the potential danger. Firelight flickered in Cinder’s eyes, like the determination he could already see in her eyes was literally set ablaze.

The moment of distraction gave her time to push him out of the way. It was honestly impressive how quickly Cinder worked. The bruises on the arms were covered with a blend of arnica and comfrey before wrapped in spare linen. Bits of cloth soaked in aloe were stuffed underneath the manacles on its wrists.

Throughout all the commotion it didn’t stir. Cinder wiped her hand on its arm and frowned. She held out her hand palm up to Quill. He stared at it.

“Um?”

“Oh right, sorry. Go grab a bowl of water and a towel. I think she has a fever.”

Quill did his best to keep an eye on it while he backed away. Third drawer on the right had the towels, bowls in the cupboard, and a quick dip into the water pail. It was out of sight for less than eight seconds. Still too long. Quill placed the bowl down by Cinder’s legs.

“Thank you. What do you think happened to her?”

“Well, judging by the manacles and the clothing, I’d say it’s probably a prisoner of some kind. It must have done something terrible to be locked up like this though. Where exactly did it come from?”

Cinder laid the now damp towel over its forehead. “Definitely a dungeon. Other than that, no idea. From the residual magic I could find, it looks like it might have been long range, but for all I know it might have been from directly underneath this house.”

Quill raised an eyebrow. “Really? You think I’d believe there was a dungeon full of demons beneath us? The point of laying out bait is that you don't want your prey to know that it’s bait.”

“That wasn’t a joke. Mostly.” Cinder stuck her tongue out. “I can’t recognize the mana signature of the place this was connected to. That means it's somewhere far away or somewhere that has powerful natural magic nearby, so that could be anything from a volcano to a really old spring.”

“Well that’s really helpful.”

“Says you. This is supposed to be my area of expertise.” Cinder bit the tip of her thumb. “Master Phineas would have felt me expending that much mana, and I’m sure every single ward he has is going off at once. He’ll know what to do.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “What can I do right now? Her wounds are taken care of, and I don’t want to take the chance that breaking the manacles on her wrists would hurt her. Is there risk of shock?” Cinder felt around the demon’s neck, quickly locating the jugular. “The pulse seems strong and steady. No blue in the lips or fingernails either. Passing out should just be fatigue.”

Cinder sat mumbling for a few more moments before finally opening her eyes. “Ok. Quill, help me move her to a bed. We’re going to elevate her feet a little just to be safe. One pillow should be enough. I’ll grab her some food she can digest once she’s settled.”

Quill sighed. There’s no stopping her now.

Comfort. A sensation Sezzle hadn’t felt in weeks. One she thought she might never feel again. And yet here she lay, trying to stay as still as possible in the hopes that whoever these new people were wouldn’t realize she was awake. Then this warmth could last just a little bit longer. The bed she was in was remarkably soft, and the damp towels placed over her forehead were nearly enough to put her back to sleep.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when something clattered to the floor.

“That’s odd,” said the girl’s voice, “I’ve never seen this knife before. Hey Quill, is this yours?”

“Not mine. I think I’d remember something this detailed. The engravings on the hilt alone would take days of work I’d think. The way they capture the image of a thornbush so perfectly is incredible.”

Sezzle’s blood froze. Impossible. She recognized that knife. Memories of scars began to itch on her back. There was a moment of hesitation, a small part of her soul that quivered at the thought of leaving this little section of paradise. Then she was pushing at the blankets on her. With all the strength she could muster she spoke, but it came out as nothing more than a whisper. “Run. Please, run.”

Quill looked over at the mess of now moving blankets. What was it saying? He moved closer. Run? The room began to shimmer. Four stone walls stood where none had before, just opaque enough to ensure you they were there. Standing in the middle of the cell was another demon. His long horns curved around behind his head. A pitch black tail that flicked around like a whip. Small cruel eyes darted back and forth before finally locking on the blankets.

“I found you Little Princess.” He moved his hand forward, feeling at the edge of the wall. “Such a clever girl. You think hiding with them can save you? I can’t have you be late for the ceremony. Arazel would be absolutely furious.”

Quill moved without thinking. Hands trained by years of hunting drew back, sighted, and released. The knife in his hands flew straight and true, embedding itself inside the wall. It sunk halfway through before stopping. The demon seemed to finally look at the rest of the room. His eyes traced the path the knife had taken, following it back to Quill.

“You will make a wonderful sacrifice to mark this occasion. Pray to your gods, maybe one will notice your dissapearance.”

The door to the cabin burst open and Master Phineas walked in.