The demon thrashed around in the flesh-bound prison of Pecca, contorting his limbs and neck and head.

The realization washed over me like a chilling wave—Pecca’s time was running out and the demon was going to kill him just to escape. I could not let that happen, and still holding onto his shirt in my iron grip, I dragged him forward like a lifeless sack of sand.

I meant to take him away from the marketplace to somewhere that was out of the way. The man-monster duo wriggled and writhed painfully, wailing cries of pain and misery, and the dozens of onlookers who dared to stay, all shouting this or that—to let the Caffrian guardsman go, or cursing him for threatening to kill the poor baker. But none of them knew the truth, and it was better that way.

“Let us go!” it yelled out desperately. “You filthy bastard! You sack of shit! Go fuck yourself!”

They kept yelling obscenities at me as I dragged them away to where I saw a cluster of buildings tightly huddled together. Wedged between them was a network of narrow streets that were darker and unwelcoming, unlike the wide and well-lit streets close by.

Then the demon’s tone changed. “If you let us go, we’ll leave Caffria! We’ll go away, just let us free!” I didn’t know whether the creature understood what my plans were with it, but it filled my heart with a sick joy to see its confidence erode in this short amount of time.

I wondered if the demon had ever experienced pain and fear?

Iskander followed closely behind me, his face stern in determination, and I felt a sense of confidence at having him with me. And Jaxine came too, trailing behind Iskander.

To deal with the angered guards, Jace and Florencia stayed behind. I heard them exchange words among themselves, moving their arms around wildly, and holding a few young and excitable guards back. But what they said, I heard not. I kept my focus and intent on keeping the demon in place, and whenever I had the strength, I burn it with a jolt of focused psychic golden fire.

I had reached the narrow sidestreet, but it was not as private as I hoped it would be. It was crisscrossed by many smaller or wider streets and still had some passersby coming and going. Then, I heard steps running by my side, and an angered voice shouting.

“Jonas!” It was Florencia, who had caught up to me and grabbed my sleeve. “Have you gone mad? What are you doing?”

“Flo,” I said impatiently. “We need to interrogate him now! The demon is trying to escape. I can’t hold it here for much longer.”

“The marketplace—” said Florencia until it finally dawned on her what was going on. She turned around and noticed the twenty or so guards that followed us, but kept a distance between us and them. “I’ll deal with them! Jace, come on.”

She and Jace turned and went back to the guards, and began to explain the situation, though I hoped she would not reveal the dark secret.

“Iskander,” I said through my strained throat, as even talking was becoming unbearable. “We need a place where we can be in private!”

Iskander looked to his right, then his left, nodded, and jogged ahead to look for anything suitable, followed closely by Jaxine. While he went ahead, I kept my grip on the collar of Pecca, who was still trying to throw his body around wildly. The demon had stopped talking for a moment, and the real voice of the guard came through. Judging by his soft and high voice, Pecca was actually much younger than his demonically distorted features made him be.

The commotion with the guards grew, as Florencia and Jace tried to give us time and space. Then I heard Iskander shouting from a side street further ahead.

“Over here! I found an empty cellar. We can use that.”

An empty cellar was as close to perfect as it could get. He ran back to me and grabbed the arm of Pecca, and helped me drag his body down some old wooden stairs that were stained with green mold and moss. The low and rickety door was already opened, and Jaxine already was inside, rolling a dark-brown barrel in the middle.

The ceiling was low, maybe a foot taller than I was, but it was curved and domed, and its sides were much shorter, which made the cellar more cramped. A green and blue mold grew on the stone walls, and there was only a single oil lantern burning on the cold floor. And the very air itself in there was damp and cold and I felt as if I was infected by something by being in there.

What a lovely place to be, I thought.

I threw Pecca’s body onto the barrel and made him face me. Then I extended my arms, fingers bent, to focus my intent better. Whether it helped, I didn’t know.

“Hold him!” I barked at Iskander and Jaxine, aware that my tone came across as insulting. But to my surprise, both of them obeyed without question. Jaxine swiftly grabbed hold of his wrists, while Iskander wrapped his arm around Pecca’s neck. For any other man, this would’ve been sufficient to subdue them, but Pecca continued to resist with a strength greater than any ordinary man.

The three of us were struggling. Sweat beaded on my forehead. Jaxine kept grunting as she tried standing so Pecca’s wrists were between her knees and Iskander’s face was strained and contorted. And while I stood a few paces away, the demon’s corruptive presence was wearing upon my mental defenses. I felt my very skin tingle, then itch, then it was like it was on fire. My vision went blurry and white, and I heard all voices in a reverberating echo.

Then I heard Florencia and Jace storm down the narrow stairs. Jace ran beside Jaxine and helped her hold Pecca’s arms, to which he received a momentary look of gratitude. This was more than she had done for the entire time we had known each other.

Florencia stood beside me and said: “I need to hold off the guards. I’m sorry, but I can’t help. I’ll try to buy you as much time as I can, but they’ve already called for the captain. He’ll be here any moment. You have to hurry.”

“It’s fine,” I said. Pulling every word out was like torture. “Please give… time.”

Florencia nodded, her eyes filled with sadness, and went back up. I hoped she would give us enough time. What would happen later, I didn’t concern myself with, because, as I later realized, we had just kidnapped and attacked a Caffrian guard.

“Iskander,” I said, feeling a growing pressure behind my eyes. “Do you see the shadow around his body? The claws and form like a spider? That is the demon, Iskander. Do you see?”

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“I—” Iskander stuttered. “Yes, I saw it! Only for a moment, but I saw it. The shadow all around him.”

And as Iskander victoriously explained how he had for the first time seen the otherworldly body of that demon, I heard the words of Goxhandar caution against what was going to happen.

“Be careful, master,” said Goxhandar in a deep tone, amplified by the strain I was under. “A caged demon is something of the utmost danger. It will try to tear the body apart if it cannot escape. You must keep it from doing that. Otherwise, there can be no interrogation.”

And though Goxhandar’s words were of some comfort, deep down, I already suspected that. What made matters worse was that with each passing moment, my own strength dwindled as the demon fiercely fought against my will. It wriggled within Pecca’s skin, trapped and unable to break free. His skin stretched taut, and underneath, I saw claw-like things crawl around. But, luckily, that was the extent of the demon’s power for now.

Though it could not work with the physical world, the demon was elusive, slipping away like a fish from my focus. With every passing moment, I grew weaker while it remained relentless. Even looking upon its shadow was draining my strength, and standing this close to it was painful, irritating, and infuriating.

The ground began to shake, and the air grew hot. Quickly my shirt and trousers were drenched in sweat, and a vein throbbed in my forehead, as my vision blurred.

The damned demon was fighting back with all its strength, but I would not submit. I retaliated by shooting a pulse of malicious thought at it, and for a moment, the demon jumped back, along with Pecca’s body. But unfortunately, my assault proved to be ineffective.

“We don’t have much time! Iskander—” I said through gritted teeth. “Ask… him about…”

Iskander understood that he had to ask the questions, and he said into the ear of Pecca with very little mercy or compassion: “Vranik! Grasd Vranik! Do you know him? Do you know where he is?”

With a sinister laugh that made Iskander look away, the demon laughed at his face. The features of a once-handsome man, twisted into something so malicious, that I wanted to rip it off as to never see something so vile ever again.

To add another victory to its tally, the demon spat a repulsive, viscous snot at Iskander. But Iskander, while disturbed, had lightning-quick reactions, dodged to the side, and slapped his face in retaliation. It came so fast and strong that it echoed between the damp stone walls of the cellar.

It was then I understood that I had to not only hold the demon in place, but persuade it to talk.

I saw in my mind’s eye the shadowy form of it around Pecca’s body, and with the strength that I had left, willed a golden light into being and guided it against the demon. It recoiled and jumped back as if burned, and though it uttered not a sound, the golden light caused it more pain than Iskander’s choke hold and punch.

The demon weakened, and Pecca relaxed.

Iskander sensed an opening.

“Where did Grasd Vranik go?”

Before the demon could answer, Iskander threw a wild punch deep into his stomach. The impact was so powerful that even I felt sickened by it. To complement, I shot another pulse of psychic fire against the shadowy form and felt immense satisfaction over the pain it caused it.

Under this relentless onslaught, the demon cried out in agony. The walls around us vibrated and cracked, while the air quickly filled with swirling stone dust and unbearable heat. My clothes were already soaked through from sweat, and a thin trickle ran down my nose, falling onto my chest.

I saw Pecca’s eyes roll upward, but there was no white there, only a strange dull grey, mixed with an expanding red from the burst blood vessels. Both Pecca and the demon were looking at the door, where they hoped for someone to save them, but none would come. Pecca would not leave this cellar alive.

“Tell us where Vranik is!” I yelled out. “Tell us why your kind is here! What do you want?”

“Vranik! Yes, Vranik!” the body of Pecca spoke, but the voice was that of nails scraping against rough glass—irritating beyond describing. It cut deep into my bones, and I felt my teeth ache and my nerves pulse. “The Champion could no longer walk amongst us lesser beings, hiding under the disguise of flesh anymore! He escaped Caffria for his exaltation. He went…”

Each word uttered by the vile demon felt unnatural, a grotesque violation of the laws of nature. My very being shuddered as if insulted over every syllable, and as it spoke, every word was like an assault on my senses. “He went to the city… the city of flowers.”

The man-demon cried through gritted teeth and bit down hard. Something cracked inside his mouth, and he spit out broken teeth. Then, his back straightened and almost seemed to stretch out.

“The city of flowers?” asked Jaxine. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Lottie!” exclaimed Jace painfully and widened his stance for better balance. “That’s what Lottie is sometimes called.”

Out of frustration, Iskander punched Pecca in the jaw, breaking some more teeth. He then blabbered many questions in a row, barely able to speak coherently: “When did he go there? What is he doing there? What did Vranik do in Caffria?”

“You’re too late!” grunted the demon, and he suddenly twisted his neck impossibly to the side. A loud crack came from the joints stretching, and Jace grabbed his head to keep the demon from killing Pecca outright. “The Champion left months ago, after our victory in Veneiea.”

“What did he do here in Caffria? What will he do in Lottie?” asked Iskander, face glistening with sweat and hatred that overshadowed his exhaustion and growing despair.

“After the gifts of the Great Lord began to show, he left immediately. He did nothing in this pitiful city. And what he did in Lottie, we do not know!”

“The Great Lord? Who is that?” I asked, but to that, the demon laughed again and looked straight into my eyes. I felt diminished and small. Worthless and nothing. Like food. Cattle.

Then, it passed, and I was myself again. I asked again. “Who is the Great Lord? Is it Rufasmos?”

The demon roared in anger and hatred. My ears rang and whistled, and my sight flashed black. “How dare you utter the name of the Great Lord, you filthy, shit-covered cattle! Never speak it again!”

“Rufasmos?” I asked, feeling genuine pleasure over the demon’s weakness and anger. “Who is Rufasmos? Some pathetic demon-worm? I’ll kill Rufasmos, same as you!”

“The Great Lord will kill you all for this blasphemy!”

The demon within Pecca’s body spat a mixture of green mucus and blood, aiming it at my face, but it fell short. Then, the demon suddenly surged with power, like a flickering flame before it dies out.

Jaxine’s spirit broke and she wept loudly into her collar, eyes red and puffy, and tears rolling down her cheeks. Jace held firm his grip on Pecca’s arms, but he closed his eyes. Even Iskander strained under the weight of this new power.

“Master,” said Goxhandar carefully. “Brace yourself!”

There was a flash of black wind that erupted from the body of Pecca. One last wild cry shot out of his ruined mouth. The guard’s jaw bit down and ripped into his own tongue. A chunk fell down on the floor, and bright red blood flowed from his smirking lips, staining his steel cuirass.

Then… the body of Pecca burst apart in a red, misty spray of blood, flesh, and bone.

Jace and Jaxine fell backward into the unyielding wall that was already cracked from the interrogation. Iskander rolled aside, while I landed against the wall behind me.

A loud shockwave coursed through the cellar, breaking the little that was not yet broken. It obliterated stone and splintered the decaying beams that held up the roof. The very air was filled with dust of stone and wood and mold and blood and tiny fragments of blood.

The force that broke the body of Pecca was a wet ripping noise, and his blood landed all over me—across my chest and neck, and face. The warmth of it washed over me, and I felt there the lingering corruption left by the demon. Without thinking, my tongue darted out to taste the trickle that was on my lips.

It took only a tiny amount before I was sick over what I did, but I was immediately on my feet with a sudden surge of strength in my muscles. The splitting headache dissipated in an instant and I stood up while everyone else still reeled from the shockwave.

“Careful, master,” said Goxhandar. “Do not go down that path while you are yet so unlearned!”

Jaxine was screaming, and Iskander stormed to check up on her, but luckily, she was alright. It was just the shock of what happened that had shaken her so.

From outside I heard more shouting and arguing, and the lone voice of Florencia trying to defuse the situation. But by then, she had bought us all the time she could. Heavy boots stormed through the low door, down the narrow stairs, and into the moldy cellar.

The first man who came found himself in a place where a young Caffrian guard was dead, torn to pieces by a force that should not exist.

“By the Gods!” stuttered the guard who had a golden pin on his chest.

“Arrest them! Arrest them all!” he shouted and went to draw his sword.