Everything about my quarters is generous. The height of ceilings, size of the room, softness of the bed, and especially the beauty of the garden.

If this counts as humble I wonder what the palace rooms are like.

At night I use the fire pit to start a sizable flame. I sip fruit juice and munch on the last scraps of a bird leg brought to me by an enthusiastic servant. It’s so good I almost feel like royalty myself out here.

Hard to argue with the food or service, that’s for sure.

Still, I can’t say I’m relaxed, and in truth I’d have preferred a roommate. I even miss my horse who got hauled away with the rest of the animals. I shouldn’t gripe of course, as I could have nearly died like Charles, but I still feel lonely as I sit on the bench and stare into the flames.

“And I can’t even kiss my elf princess,” I say to the fire. “She has no idea who I am.”

“I’m an elf,” says a voice. “I’ll kiss you all night if you like.”

I startle at the noise. Where a moment earlier there was nought but air now sits an incredibly hot elf. She’s a type I’ve never seen before – in-game or out. She has dark gray skin with red eyes and black lips. Her shoulder-length hair is all white except for a red splash in the front that connects beautifully with her hypnotic pupils. Her body is slighter than I’m used to, but she also appears more approachable and less threatening because of it. She wears a strapless white top that goes perfectly with her hair and accentuates her chest.

She slides closer to me along the bench. “Whenever you’re ready, Ethan.”

“Who are you?” I manage and reach down for the dagger I have nestled in my belt.

Better safe than sorry.

The elf winces like I’ve struck her. “There’s no need for weapons, my lord. I’m just offering you what you asked for.”

“I’m no Lord,” I respond, still feeling defensive.

She smiles innocently back. “You are to me.”

There is an aura about this elf. Something different, something I can’t quite place.

“Who are you?” I ask again.

The elf shrugs. “I’m a helpmate. A friend if you’ll let me.” She nestles closer. “Maybe more.”

This is getting too weird.

“Guard!” I yell.

I’ll not have strange elves stalking me after dark. No matter how hot they are.

The elf does not react and continues to look at me with a friendly smile. She is trying to lock eyes with me but I avoid her. I don’t like those red orbs.

“Sir?” The elven guard says upon entering. “Is something the matter?”

I point to the elven intruder. “This elf broke into my quarters somehow. I’d like her jailed immediately.”

The guard turns to the dark elf, then back at me, confused. “Where is the intruder, sir?”

I gawk. I look at the guard, look at the elf – who is clearly enjoying herself – and then back at the guard again. “I don’t understand. Can’t you see her.”

The guard looks again, looks back at me, and now his face is concerned. “Are you feeling alright, sir? Are you sure someone was there?”

Was? She’s standing right there!

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I shake my head, trying to gather my thoughts. “I’m sorry,” I manage. “Perhaps it’s just been a long day. Maybe it was a shadow.”

The guard nods, his brow is still rumpled though. “Or course, sir. Let me know if you need anything else.” He pauses. “Or if you feel a healer would be helpful.”

The guard exits and I just stand there while the dark elf waits patiently with a playful expression on her face. I feel a tightness in my chest as another thought forms in my head. A thought that seems more likely the longer it rests with me.

Could it be?

My lips are dry and I lick them. It’s such a scary thought I have trouble expressing it.

“Are you a demon?” I whisper, almost inaudibly.

She cringes at the question. “Such a cruel word, ‘demon’. A word constructed by the enemy, by our enemy, and loaded with such hatred of us.”

“There is no ‘us’,” I say, and take a step toward the door.

She looks plaintively at me. “You’re leaving? Already? But there’s so much to talk about.”

“I don’t like talking.”

She smiles seductively. “Well, there are other options.”

I race out the door.

The guard is surprised, again, but I don’t care. He stops me and asks where I’m going: I tell him the temple. It’s a sudden decision; one I make the moment he asks me. If there’s any place safe from demons it should be there. I don’t know much about Astrian religion, or demons generally, but I’ve seen The Exorcist and I have no interest in ending up like that. Also, the demons in-game always served the sorceress. Always.

“Do you require an escort, sir?” The guard offers, but I decline and get on my way.

“Swords are no more use here.” I recall Gandalf’s words as I exit the building and take my first step into the night air.

“I’m not a balrog,” a sweet voice says and I startle again, nearly tumbling over my own feets. The demon has appeared at my side out of nowhere. “Though I would like a fiery whip. Do you know where I can get one?”

Now I just want to punch her. Instead, I clamp my mouth shut and walk with purpose toward the temple that rests along the left side of the royal square. There are still some elves out at night – heck in parts of the forest it damn near feels like night year-round anyway – I even nod at a couple as they walk past me. No one acknowledges my companion though; I’m still the only one that can see her. Lucky me.

“Why are you so opposed to just talking to me?” the demon asks.

I continue to walk. The square exudes a hallowed feeling at night: the torchlight bouncing off beautiful stones; the mighty buildings gazing down on me.

“I only want the best for you. Unlike the temple cleric you’re hoping to find. Clerics only want the best for themselves.”

Am I hoping to find a cleric? I haven’t thought that far ahead really. Maybe in my subconscious I guess. Mostly I’m just interested in ditching my traveler.

The temple is a rather small building in this square, and it’s not as pretty as the others either. The banners out front are old and weary. Some of the stones are cracked and in clear need of a mason’s attention. It almost feels…

Neglected.

“See,” the demon says. “Your precious elves don’t even care for this place. Why are you so insistent on being here?”

I walk to the door and look back at her expectantly.

“What?” the demon says, “You think I won’t enter? That I’m scared?” The last word is higher pitched than the rest and for an instant there’s a crack in her smooth façade. But it’s only for an instant. “No, you think I can’t enter, that’s it. That your precious Maker will strike me down, just like a primitive Greek hoping Zues will reign down lightning against his enemies.”

I shrug, acting as cool and nonchalant as I can. “Well, a man can hope.”

The demon gawks, then laughs. Again there is an edge to the voice that is just not quite right. Not quite normal. She leans back and shouts skyward. “Here I am oh Maker, corrupting your precious warrior, your precious chosen. If you love him so then strike me down. Send your lightning against me.” She spins as she speaks, almost dancing with glee. Then she stops, looks at the sky, and looks back at me.

“Ah, silence. So common with the Maker.” She inches closer. “But all the better for us.”

I step away. She hasn’t touched me yet, and since she isn’t corporeal she shouldn’t be able to, but I’ve no idea how these things work exactly and don’t feel the need to test my hypothesis.

“I guess you’re the sort of man who needs to figure things out by himself.” She does a sexy little twirl and puts her hands on her hips. “Fortunately for you,” she gives me a wink, “I’m willing to wait.”

And then she’s gone. No smoke, no flashing light, no indication she was ever there at all. I stand alone, before the doors of the temple, relieved. I’ve walked less than a quarter mile, but it feels like I’ve been on a journey.

A journey I've no interest in repeating.

I try the temple door and it creaks open. I don’t even know why I’m entering anymore, but I came all this way and don’t want to go home. Besides, it might be nice to talk to a cleric.

A cleric who knows about demons.