The overbright phosphorescence of Azoria’s chamber hurt Alfredo’s eyes. A smokey after image with flecks of violet sparks dissipated. White sneakers with yellow accents laid on their sides. Socks with the slightest bit of frill on the edges laid like dead snake skins. He peered at the sleeping doctor, then at the footwear, then up at the diminishing purple smoke.

But there was something else, broken glass. Wait, it moved! The jagged pieces moved together as if by magnetism and reformed into a clump which slowly took a human shape. Strands of glass wire plumed outward. Red eyes burned to melt through the face like coal through ice. Horns pushed upward as the tail coiled behind her. Azoria stretched her limbs as a black dress burned over her contours.

Alfredo pressed calloused palms against the floor, then craned his neck back to stare at the gawking crowd before stumbling to his feet. A crop of short Jet-black hair graced his dome as if he dyed it. He faced Azoria.

“Where’s Circe?”

She clutched her shoulder like a wounded animal, hissed at him, and vanished. All the other Azoria doppelgangers disappeared with her. Alfredo slumped as he gave the empty sneakers a slight nudge with his work shoes. Gentle breaths of a woman in deep sleep haunted his ears. The last he’d seen Circe, that demon had a branding iron or some such nonsense and he’d been sucker punched trying to save her from certain torture. What was even going on here? He turned around and saw the officer laughing.

The officer laughed. That ground his gears. He couldn’t take it anymore. He approached the others with a bit of a stride. It wasn’t like he had his charge to protect anymore. His face glowed as he stomped over to the officer’s group. His finger went up as he circled his hand in an animated gesture and pointed at them, all of them.

“Where tuh heck is Circe!?”

The officer clutched his gut laughing and gave Banko a pat on the shoulder.

“So that’s the wiz kid’s name,” he stopped laughing a moment, “Banko, look her up.”

Teeth grew into fangs as small horns broke skin. Alfredo growled while curling extending black claws that gleamed with an almost crystal sharpness.

“I’m not playin’ wit yuh no more. Where’s Circe!?”

Mark grabbed his baton and stretched his arms out as he walked around Alfredo, “You want to fight demon man. Now, I realize your one shot just got taken from you, but if you think that gives you the excuse to cause us trouble, well, then you have another thing coming.”

Alfredo held his stance as he eyed the officer.

“Everyone saw it,” Mark said with his outdoor voice, “Your girlfriend decided to have a big mouth. Have you ever heard the expression: ‘writing a check with your mouth that your body can’t cash’? That’s what she did. She threatened to kill our queen. Then, she got thrown through air like a little doll and sent packing. Everyone here saw it, did you not?”

Carson leaned into Nickey and whispered, “I think he’s missing the part where Azoria shattered. You did see that part, or am I just hallucinating? This place is messing with my mind.”

Nickey exposed her green braces as she bit off a piece of a nutrition block and chewed carefully. She simply nodded very slightly in response.

Banko shared his floating information holograph. There were lots of numbers. Lots of red numbers. Lots of very low numbers. Six curses of pain were listed from half-moon marks. Mark began to laugh, almost hysterically.

“Are you kidding me. Locked stats. She’s a zero in just about every category. One skill! One skill! And it’s for doing nails and hair! She even gave the old man a dye job!”

Banko couldn’t help laughing loud, almost snorting as he looked at the screen more carefully, “Look at the injuries. She already broke herself! She broke her face!”

Fists clenched as smoke bellowed from out Alfredo’s nose. He hadn’t thought to check the whole screen thingy. It wasn’t like he could figure out how to make it appear. That thing took a lot of effort to keep around, at least for him. Just managing to get it appear made his head hurt worse than that jack hammer fastener that went through it.

Mark bellowed with mocking laugh, “She can give a person a make over once a day! How cute! What an incredible skill. She’s our dungeon beautician! What do you think Carson, do you think my nails would look good in a shade of fuchsia or should I go with mint?”

Banko laughed so hard he almost fell over. His laughter joined the screams of those rolling about as they tried to adjust to a single half-moon mark on their forehead.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Laughing continued while Alfredo stood spouting smoke through his nose. They at least showed him that Circe was alive. That’s all that mattered. He would find her and save her because that was his job. He’d save his woman. His friend. Whatever. Slowly he encouraged his oni form to retract. He’d need to save it for a better purpose than teaching these clowns a thing or two.

Their continued laughing echoed through the cavern discordantly mixed with the even less pleasant sounds.

Mark waved off Alfredo dismissively, “Look buddy, you’re lucky the fat man wants you to have that food. So, here’s the deal. When it comes your time to get out of this place, you can gallivant around like a mystical hero in search of Cinderella. But you and I both know what your really after. If you want to chase it down that badly, hey, it’s your funeral. Just stay out of our way!”

Fist went down and a shockwave followed.

“Take it back,” Alfredo shouted, “Take it back or I’m gonna tear your face off?”

Mark laughed, twirled around, and pointed his baton. He had a large crew backing him up should Alfredo decide to choose violence. He laughed.

“You and what army beast gramps? Sleepy over there? Bring it. I dare you. Come on! Right here! Right now! What?! You don’t have the balls, do you? Have they shriveled up that badly?”

Alfredo took up a combat stance. Before him stood the officer, the suited Asian man, the fast girl, the magic boy, that guy with the shields, several others from multiple directions. The robed old man with the half-moon mark squirming tendrils over his forehead cautiously approached with his eyes closed. Muscles tensed as Alfredo made himself bigger, scarier, but he felt increasingly like a cornered animal.

“Where’s Circe!?” he cried at the top of his lungs

On the stage, where nobody bothered to look, Azoria sat on her throne of skulls. Her arms raised over the back with her wrists nailed together. Blood dripped from the giant nail. Head hung down limply as hair sprawled across her lap. Naked feet pushed up on the heel with toes on toes. A large wrought iron nail kept them in place under the seat. Deep slow breaths raised and lowered her chest as Alfredo cried for Circe.

A hoof split apart to clasp her shoulder hard. The face of a bull darted to her left side. It snorted and blew her hair aside. A sweetly enthusiastic childish voice whispered in her ear.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay? Wanna play with me. I’m Mogg-dell Beef Ear Pie. I’m your best friend. Let’s play together.”

“You’re seething,” Azoria said, “And you can’t keep me here forever. I will recover so long as this world exists. It’s my world. It belongs to me!”

“You look good like that though, it’s a nice look for you. The blood highlights the spectral goodness of my haunted lanterns.”

“Nonsense,” Azoria said, “Back to nonsense. Yet I don’t sense your usual enthusiasm. You’re afraid.”

Skulls shook, jittered, and clattered. Mogg-dell glared at them. They began to bite Azoria. Little chunks of flesh tore from her body, which bled and steamed as she healed.

Mogg-dell slithered, contracted, turned white. Its red eyes burned. The form of the giant bull melted and curved. Breasts bounced in a black dress as its long glistening white hair flowed. The horns and tail remained bovine as Azoria twirled before Azoria. A wine glass appeared in Mogg-dell’s hand.

“Oh, Ashooooria darling, are you not enjoying the tashtes of chaosh? Are you not ready to merge with my realm?” it mocked before pouring the red liquid over her hair, “Look at you, half destroyed by your own chosen weapon. So damaged that you’ll never be able to call another muster. Once this game burns out, it’s over. No resets. No hibernating for 10,000 years. This world will be consumed, burned into my realm. Check.”

Azoria looked up; eyes glowed red as she leaned back into her throne. The skull clattered and bit flesh off her thighs and shoulders, which steamed as it slowly regenerated. Blood poured over the bones.

“She's an impurity like us. You can't control her. She still holds a thread. And it’s driving you MAD!” Azoria said through clenched teeth, “You can’t absorb her even with six marks. I found her! The one of alteration is your antithesis. And you failed to kill her. You don’t have any more cards. She'll survive. I win! Check!”

Mogg-Azoria clamped Azoria’s cheeks hard and stared her eye to eye as their noses pressed together, “Oh, you poor confused child of destruction. Who ever said I need to absorb her?”

Mogg-Dell Beef Ear Pie disguised as Azoria, but still sporting the horns and tail of a bull instead of Demonian appendages, approached the edge of the stage as Azoria watched from her throne. The audience below could see two Azoria. They could not see anything off about the Azoria standing at the edge of the stage. A groan of protest escaped the one slumped over on the throne, but nobody heard it. Nails held her seated.

The standing Azoria stretched her arms out like a holy mother and spoke with a soft-spoken pleading that everyone could hear as it projected into their minds. A slight diminishing of general sanity would go unnoticed.

“Honorary Demonians, I have the great sorrow of giving you your first mission. One of your fellows is about to lose her sanity and become a dead berserker. My humble plea is to end her suffering. A few of you already have experience in this matter and have strengthened greatly in my service. The ones who succeed in this mission will become my closest advisors and receive great rewards beyond even my boon.”

Azoria listed on her throne; face hidden under her hair as she concentrated on breathing. That was the worst possible impression of her she could possibly imagine. Like anyone would fall for that.

Mogg-Dell Beef Ear Pie raised its hand and pointed into the air before shouting with a flourish, “Bring her head directly to me as my rightful prize! LET THE HUNT BEGIN!”

A cheer sounded through the chamber.

That was more like her, Azoria thought. Wait, what was it up to now? An eye peered through her hair as Azoria managed to lift her head and see Mogg turn to her with a wholesome smile.

“I’ve arranged a little welcoming present for your return home. Checkmate.”

Circe Oratia Sheffield: Divergent Bookworm: SANITY ZERO!

FATALITY!