At long last, I gaze at the gates of what must surely be the Demon King’s stronghold.

All around chimeric creatures crawl on the ground, but my team and I put them down much more easily than the hundreds of demons that we’ve faced to get this far.

I split a slug-lion down the middle in one blow. Around me scorching light and blazing heat engulf the myriad nightmares made flesh, and arrows rip through their bodies. Surrounding us are mockeries of flowers made of meat, ribcages turned upwards as though to absorb the scant few rays that pierce the miasma high above. Fighting this permanent dusk is the light emanating from Aisha, our cleric, and the flames cast by Relegant, our mage. I don’t know if it is fortunate or not that we’re provided this illumination. The culling goes more quickly, but no one should have to look in the disturbingly human eyes of a centipede-chicken amalgam as you extinguish its pitiable life. But I did.

Shucking the viscera from my blade, I look for my next enemy, only to find the abominations scurrying from us in fear. A strange sense of guilt pervades me. Is this the equivalent for the demons of razing their towns as they do? Is it even possible to slaughter an innocent demon? This is, in my experience, the worst part of fighting demons. Of course, their physical attributes are formidable, they far exceed that of an average human, and it takes a well-oiled group to stand against anything more than a lesser demon. However, the psychological impact is much worse. Fighting day and night against freshly conceived horrors, some just smart enough to call out for mercy as you kill them… It quickly erodes the will of all but the most steadfast.

As the leader for this elite unit, there have been countless moments of crisis or breakdowns where one or more of my companions felt they couldn’t take even one step more into this tainted land. I’ve had to dispel their worry and doubt by always donning a face of absolute confidence and conviction. When I’m facing these same doubts though, there’s nobody for me to turn to. There used to be Alicia, but… It’s better not to think of what happened to her. Not right now. There will be time later, I try to believe. I have to steel myself.

As we cross the vacated courtyard toward the castle gate, an eye opens in the stone and a horrible scream peels out, echoing into the distance. Then, a slash of a grin forms below the eye and says, in a startlingly human, feminine voice—

“Oh, guests! I’ll be right there, just a minute!”

The cognitive dissonance this causes is par for the course when dealing with demons. Is this a psychological attack? A way to humanize the demons inside, further demoralizing us as we fight this just war? Or is their creator so twisted that these glimpses of humanity are all they remember of their own?

Regardless, I brace myself to break down this door, when suddenly it’s opened from the inside. A demon appears behind it with a wide smile on its face. It’s an elaborate, and no doubt highly ranked, demon. Largely humanoid with a feminine torso and face, and not a scrap of clothing. This is paired with goat legs, the fur terminating mid-thigh, a sleek dark tail that darts back and forth, and bat-like wings. Its facial features are nearly patrician but just slightly off in a way I can’t place. Given the idealized curves of its body and pert breasts, could this demon be meant to seduce? Does the Demon King think that anyone who came this far would be tricked by seduction or is this demon for his own sick pleasure?

“Please, come in. I’ll make tea. Whatever brings you here? Not that you’re not welcome! Just, I haven’t had guests in…” A puzzled expression crosses its face. “… I don’t know how long. But I guess it doesn’t matter.”

It smiles broadly and beckons us inside the heart of evil. I don’t know what game it’s playing at, but I refuse to go along. I point my sword to its throat and declare, “Enough games! Tell us where the Demon King is, or I’ll slay you where you stand!”

It blinks, looking affronted. Good.

“That’s rather bold of you. How am I supposed to show you to a demon king if I’ve never heard of him in my life? I thought demons were purely theoretical.” An excited gleam enters its eyes. It completely disregards my weapon as it leans forward eagerly. “Oh! Did someone reach the demonic realm? Did they use light or earth magic? Light magic is associated with the angels of myth who supposedly divided reality, but I’ve always theorized that if a talented earth mage were to crack the theory behind lodestones, they would be able to apply the properties of its spatial manipulation to dimensional travel!”

Well, I gave it a choice, and it chose to lie about knowing the Demon King. I step forward and thrust my sword through its chest where its heart should be, you can never tell with these things where it actually is without dissection. I hear the familiar sizzle and pop of boiling blood on my enchanted blade. Its face contorts in mild discomfort as it spits blood.

Reedily, it lectures, “I don’t think I’ve ever had such rude guests. That hurts, you know? If you want to know where the demon king is I can try to do some scrying, but impatience is a poor reason for you to be stabbing me.”

I retract my blade, then attempt to behead it, only for my blade to be caught and ripped from me by that damnable tail.

“Okay, I try to be a gracious hostess but there are some lines that simply should not be crossed by a guest. How would you feel if I showed up unannounced to your home and tried to murder you? And poorly, at that.”

Its voice gets clearer and clearer as the wound through its chest seals, leaving not a scar. I draw my short sword and shout, “Attack!”

I charge in. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Legios loosing his arrows and I can hear the chants of Aisha and Relegant as they cast their spells. Already I can see holes straight through its body where the arrows traveled, and its left arm is burnt off completely by a firebolt. Still, it looks placidly unconcerned, yet to take even a step. As I near the demon, it brings its hand to my forehead and flicks, then everything fades to black.

O O O

I open my eyes dazedly, searching for where we are. It’s unusual to wake on my own; ever since we stepped foot on demonic land we’ve slept in shifts, waking each other as needed. I should be getting roused—rudely may I add—by Aisha.

There’s a demon pouring tea and fussing over the arrangement of a sweets tray. The events leading to my blackout come rushing back. On further examination, this is the same demon who opened the door, now wearing what looks to be some sort of bath robe.

I jolt to full awareness, taking account of my equipment. I find my weapons missing and my armor stripped from me. Reaching into my boot, I find my hold out dagger and fling it at the creature’s eyes. Effortlessly, it catches my dagger between its fingers and sets it aside.

“Oh! You’re awake! I brought refreshments. Don’t worry, your companions should be waking up soon as well. I hope you’re okay with chamomile, it’s all I had. And don’t worry those are oatmeal raisin cookies, not—" it shivers— “chocolate chip.”

“What are you?”, I spit.

It claps its hands, delighted for reasons impossible to divine.

“Just as I thought, your aggression comes from a case of mistaken identity! What am I?”, it tilts its head, “Why, human of course. If you were asking who I am I would tell you to call me Sophia. I was previously known by another name, but I doubt you would have known it.

“Now! Correct me if I’m wrong but there must be someone who works for this demon king who looks an awful lot like me, yes?” It leans forward, excitement clear in its eyes, “Did they pick similar enhancements as me?” It gestures at its legs and tail. “I thought I had optimized my body but if someone else independently optimized theirs in the same way that would be further proof of my genius! Do you know if they ever considered gills? If so how did they implement them? I’ve tried but it never seems to work!”

Disregarding its nonsense, my eyes flit over my surroundings. We seem to be in a normal, if dated, living room. There’s a central coffee table and three sofas ringing it. On two are me and my companions, slumped and similarly disarmed. Alone, on the third sofa sits the demon with a guileless smile. In the dim light from the windows, I can see floral-patterned drapes and an unlit fireplace. There’s one exit, a wooden door behind the demon. The windows are barred.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I reach out and take a deep swig of the teacup nearest me. If I’m lucky it’ll be poisoned, and I won’t have to deal with whatever this is supposed to be. If it is, though, it’s not a poison I recognize.

This demon clearly showed its ability to defeat all of us effortlessly, so why keep us alive? Information? I’ve never heard of demons relying on interrogation. They tend to prefer direct assaults and overwhelming force, killing and devouring people on sight. I try to think how to respond to this absurdity. What game is it playing? Perhaps I should stall until my companions awaken, then beat a hasty retreat? It was clearly too early for us to take on the Demon King if what I suspect is his concubine can defeat us single-handedly. The best thing to do is regroup and live to fight another day. There’s just one question I can’t help but ask.

“Are you really going to pretend to be a human when you look like that?”

It tilts its head and furrows its brow as if this is a difficult question to parse.

“What about me looks inhuman?”

I have no idea how to answer such a question. Typically, if you end up arguing nonsense like this with the town fool, you have already lost.

Apparently, Aisha roused and heard some of that because she cuts in. “Bitch, do I really have to spell it out for you? You have goat legs, horns, and wings. You’re a demon. You’re obviously a demon. Are you stupid or what?”

“Well! Excuse me. I’ve never seen a demon, so how was I supposed to know they looked like me? Here, just a moment.”

It pulls out a hand mirror from a pocket on the robe and gazes into it. Quickly its features melt away, leaving it entirely human in appearance. The implications of this are obviously horrifying, but I can worry about it if I survive this encounter.

“Does the tail have to go, too?”

Aisha visibly takes a moment to figure out how to explain just how wrong the situation is. Then simply scowls and says, “Sure.” She leans back into the couch. Knowing her, she’s completely disengaged at this point other than waiting to see if a fight breaks out. Leaving me to do the talking. Joy.

It sticks its feet out and wiggles the toes experimentally.

Grimacing, it says, “Ugh, that feels weird after spending a few millennia with hooves.” It sets its feet down on the hardwood and yelps. “Wow, the floor is cold like this!” It pulls its feet onto the couch and tucks them under itself. “Rosetta!”, it shouts into the air, “Do I have any footwear?”

The castle around us shifts and groans ominously.

“A shame, though not unexpected.”

It turns its attention to us once again.

“You tend to forget these things after spending so long not needing them. I didn’t remember about clothes until you all showed up! It seems obvious now, I know, but well it’s been so long since anyone has visited that I forgot important rules for hosting guests. Thank goodness I had the sense to write down some of the guidelines a while back, though it did take some time to track where I put the notes. Oh! I should ask. Are these cookies to your liking?”

It happens sometimes that something occurs so far outside of the expected, or even the possible, that the mind cannot grasp it until some familiar detail sticks out to hold on to. No such familiarity was to be found in this case however, and Aisha and I were stupefied into silence. A few minutes pass like this. The demon’s expression of earnest hope doesn’t change except for a small furrow in its brow as though it is figuring out a puzzle.

Then, groaning, Relegant opens his eyes and looks around. He sees the demon, and then his eyes drift down toward its cleavage and settle there. The lecher.

“Who is this?” He drawls, “Did you rescue us from that demon?” He scans our surroundings quickly, then apparently satisfied reaches for a cookie and promptly takes a bite. In this moment he’s the picture of relaxation.

I quietly resolve, if we make it out of this, to boot him from the team. I don’t care if he’s the ‘most talented mage on this side of the Irondacks’, if he can’t even register the danger we’re in now he’s useless.

“Ah”, it claps. “I am the one you lot apparently mistook for a demon when I opened my door. I have since changed my form to suit your tastes and avoid further misunderstanding, though surely you recognize my face?” It gives a knowing wink.

Relegant swallows, looks up, then says what we’re all thinking.

“Shit.”

It laughs melodically in response.

“I’m flattered by the way, but not interested. I prefer female lovers so unless there’s a women in there for me to liberate—“ it wiggle its fingers— “then I’ll have to refuse. By the way, how are the cookies? I don’t often eat so I can’t guarantee high quality, but they should be serviceable.”

Relegant hollowly says, “Delicious,” then takes another bite. By his expression it’s clear that the knowledge of who, or what, is hosting him turned the morsel to ash in his mouth. It’s really the least he deserves.

It frowns, then with a note of irritation complains, “Why are you all so afraid of me? Have I been anything but a kind and generous hostess? Not many people would invite you in their sitting room for tea after you stab them you know? When I stabbed the King of Remorsia, I was sent to the dungeons and given thin gruel! How have I been rude to you then? Is there some new social convention I’m unaware of?”

Legios chose this moment to interject. Apparently, he was awake for some time and feigned sleep.

“Apologies, but it’s hard to change one’s opinion of someone so quickly, even with the evidence you’ve provided us. Did you know that your quaint home is surrounded by miles with legions of demons, each more horrifying than the last? Demons who have been razing human settlements and taking lives indiscriminately? We have journeyed through these lands fighting tooth and nail to reach this point so that we could find and terminate the creator of these, the Demon King. Considering this, you’ll have to forgive us for our initial mistrust.”

It perks up. “Demons? Here? The only living beings within about five miles should be my children. Since when have these demons been here?”

My blood runs cold. A glance at my companions shows the creeping chill spreading along with the realization of what this means. All this time I operated on the assumption that we were dealing with some sort of eccentric concubine to the Demon King. The reality is that the demented creator, the source of global massacres is sitting across from us politely fussing over the quality of her baked goods. Once human, all that remains is this mockery. All of us except Legios don a fearful grimace. He always was a good actor, though I can see a few tells of the turmoil under the surface. A tightness in his knuckles, as though he’d really rather be holding his bow right now. I can relate with the sentiment, for all the good it would do.

Legios clears his throat awkwardly, “Almost as long as our recorded history. Two thousand years at the minimum.”

“Two thousand? But I surveyed my land just the other day, couldn’t be more than a week ago, and didn’t see any sign of trespass…”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh! You said that your recorded history only goes back two millennia?”

“I did, yes.”

“Stay here just one moment!”

She jumps up and darts out of the room, muttering “Cold! Stupid fleshy feet.”

I turn to Legios and whisper, “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

He gives me a grim smile.

“Sure thing, Duke. Whatever you’re thinking, this is probably worse.”

There isn’t anything more to say, so we all wait in silence for some time. It is nearly an hour before footsteps pound their way back to us. Barging in, the Demon Queen presents to us a snake with a goat head that has laconically wrapped around her arm.

“Is this a demon?”

Legios nods, “Yes, that is what we humans would call a demon.”

She squeals in excitement. I don’t know what is more terrifying, her genuine happiness at this news, or the way the goat-snake lovingly butts its head into its creator’s shoulder prompting her to pet the monstrosity. I have seen goat-snakes like this slowly devour children. Piece by piece.

“Oh, this is so incredible! I never expected to become a myth myself. Of course, it makes sense upon reflection. Records are created and destroyed over time, and maintaining their condition takes long effort. Effort that is typically only spared for those deemed most essential. I should know, considering the size of my library and the sheer quantity of my personal notes. And yet those tales deemed unessential, like those of myself presumably, get passed down by word of mouth and pass into legend. Or something like that. It demands further study!

“Ahem. I seem to be getting ahead of myself though. First, it seems I need to apologize. I had no idea my babies were getting into trouble. I started flesh-sculpting some time ago… Probably about two millennia now that I think about it, as a way to pass the time. I never thought my creations would stray so far or be so hostile to you. So. Sorry.”

She bows. Silence reigns for but a moment before she jumps back into animation. Sitting down and leaning forward, she smiles in unrestrained glee, still petting the goat-snake.

“But this is so cool! I bet you got plenty of interesting information from killing them! Have you ever seen a green-scaled flying lizard? About ten feet tall, thirty long? He should be nearly impervious to magic and his name is Asphodel. He went missing some years back, and I figured well, easy come easy go is the expression, yes? If he was killed though, could you tell me how? That would have stumped even me!

“Oh, oh, and it took me so long to get back because I wanted to show you all my centipede, Steve, but I couldn’t find him. He has chicken feet and the capacity to feel pain! If you killed him, could you tell me? Did he scream? He was supposed to have human vocal cords but I never got him to talk, I wanted to know what a giant centipede with chicken feet would say—

“Oh! I’m rambling. Sorry, this always happens. I get so swept up with the thrill of discovery that I forget my manners. Does anybody need their tea refilled?”

The tea had long gone cold. I gaze into the ecstatic grin of madness itself, bouncing slightly up and down on her sofa cushion. I feel that I now know the answer to the question: if there’s really a benevolent God then why do we and our loved ones all have to die? I don’t know how many millennia of madness it takes for someone to become like this, but I hope I’ll never know.