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The room had been cleaned and incense had burned in preparation of the passion which would consume the young noble's body and soul. It had been hours since the sun had set and Lana knew it must be late. Marion had not come since their last passionate encounter and there was an extreme lack of life from the already mostly empty building she called a home. The world was silent, but the mind of the restless artist still stirred.

From the shadows of the eternal quiet, her muse had begun to whisper. Quietly ... sleepily ... then louder and louder until she was screaming with deafening volume. Lana recognized the signs of her frustrations and knew the path which it would take her along. It began in her feet and worked its way into her hands ... a series of uneasy shakes which demanded movement and when the silent loneliness of her isolation could no longer be pushed away.

Mother had told Lana many times to wait in her room ... but as she pined in the dark for the arrival of some magnificent savior, the night pressed on. A restless beating brought pain to her chest, swirled possibilities in her mind, and the harder she tried to settle herself, the worse it got. There was only one way she knew to right this madness, and it involved canvass and paint.

Shedding the clothing her mother had carefully chosen, Lana gathered a servant's dress which she used when she feared a mess might be made. The rough fibers of the outfit shed the constant training which forced her to be a Lady. The course grating of poorly spun fibers tricked her mind, releasing the wild muse of her mind into action, allowing her to express her inner passion without constraint.

The paints and her brushes had to be gathered out of their containers, but her trembling had worsened and the bottles fumbled to the floor. There was no way she could paint in this condition, but then her eyes fell upon the charcoal which Marion had brought her earlier. It was not the proper type of device for a lady to create with, but she was not a proper kind of lady ... especially not now.

A shutter wracked through Lana's body, and she nearly toppled forward into the wall. Seizing the jagged rocks nearly broke the skin on her fingers, but once she brought the small pile to her desk, she scattered the useless brushes across the floor and began to draw.

First hard and then loosely, her hands cast lines across the canvas. Uneven edges ground rough-hew, with flawed boarders and warped features that were both organic and true to something deep inside. This was not the grace and flow of paint, which allowed anxieties to flow out of her, this was pure passion. Like the animalistic sex she had witnessed during her nocturnal roaming ... like the masturbation fantasies of her sleepless days ... this was the same feeling ... the same longing.

An inner fire forced droplets of sweat to bead upon her brow and straining muscles cramped her hands. The charcoal piece she had been using fell back into the pile and she flexed her fingers, sending a crackling sensation firing up through her wrists. Wiping away sweat smeared gray carbon across her meticulously cleaned skin, then without thinking, she snatched up another piece of black rock and continued her image.

This activity continued until she filled the canvas ... which she cast aside as she drew out another. This time, she took two pieces of the black rock and descended upon the canvas with more purpose than before. The lines were less crooked and the flaws were less defined ... but the image was the same. Wild hair, a pointed jaw, well defined muscles, and a jagged edge of dangerous talent which would allow him to destroy that which displeased him.

Though she knew not how or why ... the figure in her drawings was growing closer ... coming to her with the gift of her freedom and a night of passion which would change her forever. It was not a matter of how or why, but when ... when would he arrive? When would he enter her room? When would she inhale his sharp charcoal? How long until he pressed himself upon her until she yielded to the advances of his lust?

A break in the charcoal scattered pieces across the floor. Lana leaned back and breathed ... wrapping her darkened hands around herself and drawing the ground stones across her arms. "Where are you?" she muttered, then repeated the phrase until she was shouting herself horse while tears began to streak trails through the gray smears on her face. Moving to the window, she flung the shutters open. Her bosom heaved as she breathed in the chilly night air ... and she knew something was wrong. The sky was clear ... the moon was full ... and the air was unseasonably cold.

A frigid claw of anxiety gripped her chest then poured ice through her veins. Something was terribly wrong. There was no reason for this warning, but it was there, screaming in her mind ... warning her that something awful had happened. How else could she have lost control in this fashion? Why else would she clean herself so carefully and then cover her porcelain flesh with the grit of the Earth. Something was coming ... and as she breathed deeply, and fought down her panic, a sudden commotion could be heard in the hall ... and then she heard the guards.

The clatter of armored feet had only sounded that way a few times before, but this time they were followed by the clash of steal and a severing of flesh. Lana knew at once that the guards had not stood a chance against their opponent. Without cries of aggression or pain, they silently entered into violence and were cut to pieces for their loyalty. The armor which encased them crumpled before the power of their opponent and they were sundered without remorse. Then ... there was a polite knock at her chamber door.

"Who?" was all the words she could utter and for a moment there was only silence.

"I am the knight of your dreams," replied a voice which sounded like it was forced from an amateur actor in a play. "May I enter your lair, fair lady?"

"I ... I'm not properly dressed!" she called back, suddenly not wanting the stranger to come anywhere near her.

"Your state of dress matters little," the voice said as it seemed now more believably sure of itself. "Your desires have been heard and I shall shed you of false modesty. Your longing has brought me here and your salacity shall be met in kind." The ache in her chest told her that his voice was not right and she was suddenly certain she should not open the door. "Let me in, young lady, and I shall quench your fire with the waters of my skills."

I asked for this, she told herself, but it did not seem to help her fears. If I open that door ... I will see him ... he will bring a gift ... he will bring ... then she remembered. "Have you brought my gift?"

"Of course," he replied in the manner of a noble who had been slightly insulted.

"Stand fast a moment," she told him and then she looked at her hands. Taking up the hem of her scruffy dress she tried to wipe clean the charcoal ... but all she managed was spreading it. Marion ... why did you give me this stuff?

"Let me in, fare lady," called the suitor.

"I'm ... I'm not presentable!" she said lamely, but she knew the reason would not be accepted.

"I will judge that," the voice insisted, "let me in ... let me see!"

"No!" she shouted as an ember of anger began to press back the ice of her fear. "I will not let you in! I find your behavior simple, cliché, and unmanly! If you were a real man you would already be standing before me!"

As soon as she uttered the words, she knew they were the wrong ones. With the force of a battering ram the wood and metal which formed her very sturdy door blasted inward. Fragments of the destroyed barrier smashed into furniture and paintings, and the force of it all knocked her to the floor. When the debris cleared enough for her to see, the creature who had been calling at her door stepped past the threshold and stood menacingly before her.

The skin of the knight was too smooth to belong to a real man, and the way he had shattered her door proved that his intensions were no hers. Within the red eyes of the intruder there was contempt, and without another moment of hesitation, he reached forward, grabbed her dress, and tore it open.

Lana screamed for help and then grabbed his face in an effort to push him away. An unbearable heat flared to life along her skin as the charcoal suddenly flared to life. The embers glowed intensely, protecting her as they burst into blue flames that caused the intruder to scream in pain and rage.

"Wretched mortal," the creature screamed as he grasped at the burning face and stumbled back. "I'll flay the flesh from your bones!"

"Rezok," a stern voice spoke calmly from the hall. A sudden hush fell over the unwelcome demon and his red eyes spun to face the newcomer. "The lady would like you to leave now."

"Who dares?" shouted Rezok.

"I dare," the newcomer said, and though Lana could not spot his face, she could see that he carried a sizable sword, which he wielded with one handed ease. "Step into the hall with me, Rezok."

"I ... I ..." sputtered the red eyed demon.

"Rezok," the newcomer spoke a little more sternly, "step away from her." As if the decision were out of his control, the invader stumbled forward and then was back in the hall.

What happened next, Lana could only speculate. With a roar, Rezok launched himself at the newcomer. There was another clash of steel, and then a dozen others as the pair of them battled. Part of Lana wanted to watch, but she was paralyzed with fright ... unable to move from where she stood.

The carnage continued until the sound of a dozen demons screaming released all at once. The anger of their frustration was no longer contained by the substance of their bodies. The roaring of hellish indignation spread like hellfire through the stone walls and then were suddenly silenced by a final, gut-wrenching, cut.

All at once, Lana fell to her knees, and was finally able to pull the tattered remains of her dress around her trembling body. The terror of what had just happened washed over her ... but like the tide it did not stay.

"My lady," spoke the voice of the victor, and Lana found herself looking up at her champion. Unlike the other demon, this one was barely human. The muscles in his arms bulged greatly, and the gray of his skin matched the charcoal she had scribbled onto the canvass moments ago. Black hair parted in the center of his crown and settled upon his shoulders. Great bat-like wings twitched behind him as if they were still fluttering with the beat of his heart. But most noticeably of all were his glowing yellow eyes, which watched her from a distance with hopeful expectation.

A sudden idea gripped the noble girl, and she grabbed one of the portraits she had created. "It's you," she said softly, turning the canvas slowly toward him so that he could see.

"So it is," he said with a smile that revealed a lair of gleaming fangs. "I believe that means something."

"Something," she agreed. Then she remembered summoning Marion with her mind, and wondered if this was the same. "I ... I guess I summoned you."

"I do not believe I could have found you any other way," he agreed with a nod.

"So ... that means ... you are mine?" Lana asked.

"I am your knight," he said with a bow, "if you will have me."

Lana breathed deeply a gasp which caused her to tremble. She was grateful to already be kneeling for she could feel her legs turn to water as he spoke. Breaking eye contact, she blushed and looked away. "I ... I'm not worthy."

"It is I who am not worthy," the knight told her. "But if we are willing to forgive each other for that ... then perhaps we can come together and find happiness."

"Happiness," Lana repeated as warm tears began streaking her face once more. In her mind, she saw him approach and wipe the tears from her cheek with his clawed hand ... and in the moments of these thoughts, it was so. When she opened her eyes, he was kneeling before her, and she could feel a great deal of heat when he touched her. Without thinking, she reached up to touch his arm, and the charcoal on her hands began glowing like embers.

"Oh," she whispered, but the demon knight did not flinch. "Does it hurt you?"

"Passion always hurts when it burns," he told her. "But when two people come together, that burning passion can be most pleasant."

"Yes," Lana said to him, and across her skin, she could feel the burning of all the tiny charcoal particles which had settled across her flesh. Leaning forward, she blazed a trail of embers across him as she pressed herself into his chest. The arms which encased her could have done to her what the former demon had done to the door ... but this dark knight would not harm her ... this she knew without a doubt.

"My lady," the demon spoke softly, "I would like to offer you a gift."

"A gift," Lana repeated as her heart began to beat harder, and she tried to remember what her mother always said in these moments. "What gift would you offer a lady?"

"I offer the gift of my people," he told her. "I offer the gift of my service. I offer the gift of a new life away from here. If you accept this gift, you will need to leave your name behind and become like me."

"Like ... you?"

"I am a demon in the service of the Dark Queen," he told her. "If you would join with me, you too can become a demon in the service of her court. But once you do this ... there is no turning back."

"I accept!" she said without hesitation. "I'll go with you!"

"You will need a new name," he told her.

For a moment she thought, and then she looked upon her glowing hands. "Ember," she said with a smile, "and you will be my charcoal knight ... Char."

"Char," he repeated as if trying it out. "I believe I can live with that."

Though she knew it was not the behavior of a lady, Lana sealed this deal by lunging up and planting a passionate kiss upon his lips. The act sent searing waves of heat through her body which caused every piece of her to tingle from the apprehension of years of waiting. Though it was not how she imagined, she still relished in the sensation of his clawed hands as they drew across her back, cutting away the bits of fabric which still covered her.

The gray lips parted and Lana's pink tongue licked the gleaming fang in her demon knight's mouth. Then prehensile nature of his tongue moved past her lips and she began to suck on its unnatural length as he slithered around the inside of her mouth. It took little time for this exchange to excite the both of them, and before she knew it, he was gathering her up in his arms and then a rush of air told her she was falling.

The cushioned down of her mattress broke her fall, but before she could gather her senses, she found herself assaulted by a sensation she had often inflicted upon herself. This time, however, when her hands moved between her legs, they discovered the head of her lover between them. The serpentine tongue lapped the skin around her thighs and then slithered inside of her in a way that sent sparks of sensation through her.

Gasps of desire were projected against the walls as she grabbed two fists full of her knight's hair and pulled him against her. Pleasure and pain burst from her nethers as he somehow gutted her hymen. The tearing of the skin and its release of rich blood were all consumed by his hunger, but the typical concern of such an act was obliterated as the culmination of euphoric sensations raised her over the edge and a flood crested and gushed through her.

The pillow she normally dampened the sound with was knocked off of the edge of the bed as her limbs flailed in ecstatic desperation. Vulgarities surged from her lips as she cursed at him ... but he did not relent. The lewd actions of his lips, teeth, and tongue continued, biting, caressing, licking, and savoring every bit of her lust drenched core. The place her teachers taught her to covet, the sacred zone of Eve's sins, the place of man's desire was now feasted upon by a demon whose powers had saved her from harm.

When at last he withdrew, Lana was afraid to look at the condition of her body. In her mind, he had torn her to pieces, and the aching of her raw flesh reinforced that image. Deep breaths allowed her to recover her strength, but as she looked up at him, the size of his manhood frightened her.

"Will that fit?" she heard herself asking.

"Not at first," he said with a grin as he licked his lips. "But when it does, you will find the reward greater than any other."

As she contemplated these words, the mighty member dipped forward and pressed against her slick inner-thighs. Slowly, he dragged himself back and then forward, pressing only momentarily against her opening, bringing more of her moisture to the surface so that she could accept him.

Eventually, the first part of his body began pressing into her. Lana's fingers gripped the sheets of her bed, and tore them towards her as he pushed farther inside. An orchestra of mixed sensations played through her as the silky steel of the invader inched carefully inside. Pleasure and pain danced together in a symphony of opposite sensations.

Just as Lana felt she might break apart, Char stopped. For a moment the inexperienced noble tried to relax her quivering muscles. Loosening around him took care, but when she realized he was fully immersed, a smug feeling of accomplishment crept inside.

When her courage returned, Lana found herself wrapping her arms and legs around the demon knight's massive frame, squeezing him as tightly as she could manage while she marveled at the firm nature of his muscles.

Slowly, carefully, they began to move. Char was intimately aware of his lady's fragile state, and his care seemed to excite her even more. Another tremor rippled through Lana, and she drenched him with her excitement. The additional lubricant allowed him to move more freely with every exertion of friction.

The spicy scent of Char's fire caused Lana to water until she bit him hungrily. The rough texture of his skin tasted like a marinated glaze which caused her to move with even more excitement. Drops of his blood wet her lips and tantalized her taste buds, dazzling every one of her senses at once.

Lana was uncertain how many times her body shuttered in response to the massive invasion. Though she was certain the demon was counting silently to himself, her mind was spinning too quickly too keep track of such things. The movements of their union seemed to drag the strength from her body and then push it back inside. A series of empowering pulses rattle through her, unrelenting in their intensity. Each animalistic assault satisfied one craving and then created another.

Lana surrendered to the sensation, allowing Char deeper ... deeper ... past the possibility of a mere human insertion. An impossible amount of male spread her open, yet somehow he was still gliding forward ... then back ... then forward in a rhythm she had heard from her mother's chambers. Then, a forceful exertion impaled through to her core. A primal roar echoed out of the demon lover as unholy fire filled Lana's insides ... burning through her veins and hardening her body until it was ridged from strain.

Finally, he let her rest. Deep breaths filled Lana's lungs as her knight's seeds sowed deep inside. The liquid heat advanced forward, invaded her womb, marauded past borders to breach blood and bone. Every part of her began to swelter as if they were resting together in one of the cradles of Hell.

The sown seeds sprouted. Lana could feel them ravaging every piece of her humanity, stripping away sinew and tissue ... replacing them with unholy pieces ... rebuilding her in their image. The weakness of her old self was being cast away; an unrelenting conversion which warped the fabric of her being.

Again there was movement ... again there was warmth. The demon knight renewed his pleasing of her body with his own, but this was not the animalistic love making of before. Without removing himself from her body, he kissed her neck, stroked her back, and lavished her with strong yet gentle attentions.

The messaging motions caused Lana to realize how much of her was aching. His efforts helped relieve the pain. It felt like her insides were twisting ... changing ... pressing against the borders of her body as they tried to escape their confines. The old self could not hold all of the magnificence she was attaining, and thus she began to stretch.

Smooth teeth sharpened and her well groomed nails fell off of her fingers as powerful new claws pushed into place. Slick oil formed on her skin, bleaching her color and toughening her hide. The nest which passed for her hair fell away, replaced by manageable locks which were strong like woven metal.

Lana was barely aware when Char lifted her up and rolled over to place her atop of him. From there she writhed freely as new strength rippled through her. The essence of the dark lady made her powerful, and Lana could feel the lust of this queendom gaining in strength. The noble made love to her knight, rising and falling in response to the burning of her blood. Bat-like wings grew out of her back and her tailbone lengthened until that too moved freely in the night air.

As these changes ravaged her, so too did the demon knight whom she loved. There were no borders to contain them. No rules or laws forbidding this primal passion. Both let forth cries of savage joy when they peaked, howling into the night like the demons they had become. The fires of their creation finally settled, but the fledgling demoness knew that a constant ember glowed inside of her, and the name she had chosen fit her well.