substance anathema to you, and we knew you would undo yourself. And you did.
“But poison has no command over demons!” cried Juval.
“Indeed it does not,” replied Creeg. “But what you have ingested—what’s now become a part of you—is not poison at all, but a violation of multiversal law. You act as if you are poisoned because it is a biological process that is killing you. Or killing your mortal form, but that is good enough for our purposes, as your formless soul will die just as surely.”
“I—I do not understand,” Juval said through gritted teeth.
“When you started causing us trouble, the Lady Iranez ordered me to learn what I could about demons, in particular how to combat their ability to possess victims and steal their bodies. This led me to discover an order of celestial azatas known as the Golden Host, who made war against demons countless aeons ago. They had no natural protections against possession, so they bathed their skin in eldritch extracts anathema to demonkind. When a demon possessed the azata, its soul and the azata’s became the same being, trapped within the imprisoning golden skin.”
Both Korm and Aebos had regained their senses and approached Epostian Creeg and Juval. The alchemist continued his narration, as much to brag to his companions as to inform the demon of its impending fate. “This process violated the fundamental rules that govern the multiverse. A creature of utter good or utter evil is either one thing or the other. A demon cannot also be a celestial. So the multiverse compensates by erasing the contradiction. And thus did the azatas of the Golden Host discover a method to poison the unpoisonable. A fascinating study in alchemy I might never have discovered if not for you. Go to your oblivion knowing that you have my most sincere appreciation.”
“These creatures are not of the Golden Host,” declared Juval through the shapechanger’s gritted teeth.
“Of course not,” Creeg scoffed. “Such a creature would never accede to subterfuge, and would never agree to our plan. So I didn’t even bother asking it. I simply summoned the creature, murdered it, and dried its skin for later ingestion by our bait.” At that word, the alchemist smiled a blood-soaked grin at Aebos.
“Just think, Juval. If you had truly been one of those humans you hate so much, you would have been perfectly safe from our plan. I hope it makes your blood boil to know that in the end, it was one of us that finished you.”
The shapechanger’s image rippled and twisted, refining itself into the form of a beautiful human woman with luxurious long red hair to match the familiar crimson eyes. The indistinct body smoothed and took on the curves of a shapely human woman garbed in the clothes and gear of a traveling adventurer.
“I was human once,” Juval said in a soft, feminine tone wholly free from the muffled chorus that had previously accompanied everything the demon said. “I could learn to be again.” It turned to look Korm straight in his gray eyes. “This is how Durvin Gest saw me. How I truly am.”
Aebos hesitated. Korm reached into the pouch at his side and clutched the cylinder of glass containing the rest of Creeg’s golden flakes.
“Do not trust it,” Korm said. “I have touched its mind. There is nothing good left in it.”
Epostian Creeg gasped as he recognized the thin golden flakes contained within the jar in Korm’s fist. The swordsman stepped back to get the most of his swing and punched Juval in the face so hard that his hand shattered its teeth and penetrated its mouth. He withdrew his hand rapidly, wincing as the demon’s jagged mess of a mouth cut furious channels in his bare flesh. But he left the smashed jar within. Aebos closed both hands around Juval’s head and, for good measure, shook the demon violently to ensure even distribution of the flakes.
The creature’s form shifted urgently as it jerked around in the cyclops’s clutches. The fingers
“But poison has no command over demons!” cried Juval.
“Indeed it does not,” replied Creeg. “But what you have ingested—what’s now become a part of you—is not poison at all, but a violation of multiversal law. You act as if you are poisoned because it is a biological process that is killing you. Or killing your mortal form, but that is good enough for our purposes, as your formless soul will die just as surely.”
“I—I do not understand,” Juval said through gritted teeth.
“When you started causing us trouble, the Lady Iranez ordered me to learn what I could about demons, in particular how to combat their ability to possess victims and steal their bodies. This led me to discover an order of celestial azatas known as the Golden Host, who made war against demons countless aeons ago. They had no natural protections against possession, so they bathed their skin in eldritch extracts anathema to demonkind. When a demon possessed the azata, its soul and the azata’s became the same being, trapped within the imprisoning golden skin.”
Both Korm and Aebos had regained their senses and approached Epostian Creeg and Juval. The alchemist continued his narration, as much to brag to his companions as to inform the demon of its impending fate. “This process violated the fundamental rules that govern the multiverse. A creature of utter good or utter evil is either one thing or the other. A demon cannot also be a celestial. So the multiverse compensates by erasing the contradiction. And thus did the azatas of the Golden Host discover a method to poison the unpoisonable. A fascinating study in alchemy I might never have discovered if not for you. Go to your oblivion knowing that you have my most sincere appreciation.”
“These creatures are not of the Golden Host,” declared Juval through the shapechanger’s gritted teeth.
“Of course not,” Creeg scoffed. “Such a creature would never accede to subterfuge, and would never agree to our plan. So I didn’t even bother asking it. I simply summoned the creature, murdered it, and dried its skin for later ingestion by our bait.” At that word, the alchemist smiled a blood-soaked grin at Aebos.
“Just think, Juval. If you had truly been one of those humans you hate so much, you would have been perfectly safe from our plan. I hope it makes your blood boil to know that in the end, it was one of us that finished you.”
The shapechanger’s image rippled and twisted, refining itself into the form of a beautiful human woman with luxurious long red hair to match the familiar crimson eyes. The indistinct body smoothed and took on the curves of a shapely human woman garbed in the clothes and gear of a traveling adventurer.
“I was human once,” Juval said in a soft, feminine tone wholly free from the muffled chorus that had previously accompanied everything the demon said. “I could learn to be again.” It turned to look Korm straight in his gray eyes. “This is how Durvin Gest saw me. How I truly am.”
Aebos hesitated. Korm reached into the pouch at his side and clutched the cylinder of glass containing the rest of Creeg’s golden flakes.
“Do not trust it,” Korm said. “I have touched its mind. There is nothing good left in it.”
Epostian Creeg gasped as he recognized the thin golden flakes contained within the jar in Korm’s fist. The swordsman stepped back to get the most of his swing and punched Juval in the face so hard that his hand shattered its teeth and penetrated its mouth. He withdrew his hand rapidly, wincing as the demon’s jagged mess of a mouth cut furious channels in his bare flesh. But he left the smashed jar within. Aebos closed both hands around Juval’s head and, for good measure, shook the demon violently to ensure even distribution of the flakes.
The creature’s form shifted urgently as it jerked around in the cyclops’s clutches. The fingers
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