“They don’t get along”, said his demon, as it stared with glowing eyes at the projection of the fight it kept up inside the throne room. “This could be your advantage in dealing with him.”

Rosomil remained silent. His eyes flickered every so often from the magical projection towards the demon. The black blood it had coughed up as the Dark Priests got killed was still on the wooden floor, sizzling like a fire while melting the wood into a tar like substance down to the stonework underneath. A small streak, like a charcoal line, was drawn down from the corner of the demon’s mouth to its chin.

“It appears that he can’t be killed, but blood-loss slows him down significantly”, the demon continued as Duodecum fought with Lodwin and the goat. “It also appears that the witch can’t heal the blood-loss, but she can reattach limbs.”

“Are you of the opinion that she must be killed?”, he asked his demon.

“Only if she proves to be a major problem”, it replied, after considering his question for a few moments. “I think she makes for a good hostage should we get a hold of her. But therein lies the issue. The moment she seems to be in significant danger, the fallen angel intervenes.”

“A demon who loves?”, he asked, disbelieving.

“Why shouldn’t one love?”, his demon replied and looked at him, which made Rosomil regret voicing this question. “Besides, aren’t you the one who taught the boy about the Selkies and all the other non-humans having more in common with mankind than many dare to admit?”

“Silence”, he ordered, halfhearted.

“Did I hit a nerve?”, it asked sugary sweet with a sly grin.

“Concentrate back on your projection. It flickered for a moment.”

“Yes, master.”

Rosomil also concentrated back on the projection and saw the last few moments of a particular heavy exchange of blows between Duodecum and his opponents. Despite him being outnumbered, he didn’t look too bothered by it. Rosomil had little to no worries that he was going to bring Lodwin to him.

But, somehow, he hated watching the fight.

He hated seeing Lodwin like this.

He hated the goat demon at his former friend’s side, who robbed him of his rest.

And foremost, he hated himself for having caused all of this.

Once more, his eyes wandered to his demon. He wanted to blame it for all of this, but couldn’t. Not just because he had been the one to say yes, it was also because of the pain it was in.

“Does something irk you, master?”, it asked, and fixed its glowing red eyes on his.

“No”, he answered after clearing his throat. “I just wish the whole situation could be dealt with faster.”

“You could've gone yourself instead of sending Duodecum”, it replied deadpan. “One could almost think you’re afraid of something. Perhaps facing the man you once called friend is too difficult a task, even for such a powerful man like you?”

“Mockery still only entails punishments, demon”, he replied stern.

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At this, his demon glared at him in a manner he had grown accustomed to. Still, something deep inside of him hurt, seeing the demon look at him this way. Especially since it was wearing its true face.

There was a sudden change in the magical projected fight. Rosomil saw just the last second of a profound attack against Duodecum, which knocked him once more than a few feet back into one of the few still intact stalls of the marketplace. The goat had again headbutted him, but this time it had done so with a strong burst of magic common for fallen angels. But Duodecum shook it off, stepped out of the debris and attacked faster and faster.

“Lodwin looks worse for wear”, commented Rosomil’s demon. “Look how he needs to steady himself with the help of his sword, and the demon is also showing signs of weakness. This won’t take much longer.”

“Send Duodecum immediately to Gabáuan”, he ordered, and stood up.

“What!?”, it asked without any attempt at hiding its disdain.

“You heard me! This stops now!”, he shouted and glared at the demon.

“But we almost have Lodwin where we-”

“Cease! I order you to cease! Leave him be!”

“But-”

“Don’t force me to punish you! I ordered you to make Duodecum stop and return to Castle Gabáuan!”

“Fine”, the demon growled.

A few moments later, Duodecum, who swung his axe against Lodwin’s head, stopped and vanished like the Ravendemon usually did. Rosomil just saw the confused gaze of the demon goat as wells as Lodwin’s. But before he could see what followed, the projection suddenly stopped.

“Hey! I haven’t allowed you to stop!”

“The fight’s over”, the demon replied in a distasteful tone. “There’s nothing worth watching anymore.”

“You will resume the projection!”

“No”, it said with a finality that made Rosomil regret his words and tone.

At the same time, the demon walked up to him slowly, without breaking eye contact, while also growing taller with every step until it was taller than him. Before Rosomil could step back or force it to remain where it was, it was at his side. Just like in the morning, he felt his muscles lock up, and his whole body almost turn to stone. All the while, the demon stared at him menacingly and extended its talons towards his throat. As its claws touched his skin like deadly cold blades, he felt cold sweat run down his temples. But there was also a different feeling there. One, which caused him shame.

“I told you all of this enough times, but it seems you rather don’t want to listen”, the demon said, colder than ice. “You can’t run from what you did, amend it or pretend it wasn’t you. You killed your comrades. You decided to follow the instructions. You deemed them a proper sacrifice for your success. You killed them. One. By. One. Their screams… Their blood… It’s all on you. Forever. So, cease this fool’s errand. Cease thinking, you could go to Lodwin and ask for his forgiveness and him join you and your cause as if nothing happened. He will never join you. He will never forgive you. The only way for you to proceed is to destroy him. Or let him find and gather the means to destroy you. Pick your poison wisely but pick you must.“

The demon stared at him as if expecting a rebuttal or a plea for mercy, but Rosomil couldn’t offer any words of protest or desperation. What it had said was true and he knew it. He knew he was foolish for believing his own lie. Foolish for throwing away his chance of an easy victory. But a part of him wanted, no, needed to continue to believe. The part, which had made him subconsciously pull out his rosary with the feather lodged into it.

His demon’s burning eyes suddenly focused on his right hand, in which he held the wooden beads. Faster than he could react, it grabbed his hand and pulled it up — its claws digging painful into his skin.

“Please, don’t”, he breathed weakly, while hating himself for even opening his mouth in the first place.

To his surprise, the demon let him go with a thoughtful expression on its face. Rosomil didn’t know what to make of this. One moment it looked like it wanted him dead. The other it looked at him with thoughtfulness and compassion. To him, it felt more and more like his demon was performing a stage play, to both their detriment.

“Choose your destiny wisely”, the demon said softer, with its eyes focused on its feather. “Come tomorrow, you will face death. Either to fall or to remain victorious. Until then… gather your wits and your strength.”

“What about you?”, he asked, and fought the urge to reach out to it as it let go of him and turned away.

The urge to touch the demon's hand.

To hold it.

To keep it at his side.

“I’ll be there, rest assured”, it replied without facing him. “To what end? Well, I’m just as curious about that as you are.”

Before Rosomil could say anything, the Ravendemon had vanished in a puff of smoke and feathers.