Cervine Corruptions by Cambions

Cervine Corruptions

Cambions, Anal, Canine, Cervine, Corruption, Cum Inflation, Deer, Demon, Fantasy, Gay, Human, Long Story, M/M, Muscle Growth, Petrification, Rimjob, Rimming, Size Difference, Stag, Transformation, Violence (Not In Yiff), Wolf, excessive cum, plot

(~50k word story) Fort Anthem looms on the horizon, keeping watch over the barrier beyond. A lone paladin knows that this keep is the only thing protecting his shoreline from corruption. His men are diligent, yet he knows of the fear that grips them. The King of Corruption has made its mark upon the land, and struck at the hearts of his recruits. As a terrifying season rolls in on the Fort, the paladin is brought a rather unusual new resident of his keep. In the distance, across the border, a Prince watches patiently. This newcomer... Does he mark the end of Fort Anthem?

Forewarning: The story you are about to read has been made for the purpose of entertainment. As such, please take this work of fiction lightly! Your interpretation of the words I've written are likely very different from my own.

This story has lewd. If you'd just like to skip to the ending and dig into the meat, search for the phrase “I'm ready."

Table Of Contents

01 - In Which The Waning Comes

02 - In Which The Fool Is Forced Along

03 - In Which The Ice Settles

04 - In Which The Fool Is Dragged To His New Fate

05 - In Which A Scout Gives Out A Lecture

06 - In Which The Fool Opens Up To The Scout

07 - In Which A Prince Tests The Fools Resolve

08 - In Which The Prince Slumbers On

09 - In Which The Fool Sheds His Clothes

10 - In Which The Waning Ends

11- In Which The Paladin Protects His Keep

12- In Which A Prince Gets What He Wants

13 - In Which An Author Confronts Their Fate

14 - In Which The Stag Greets His Mate

15 - In Which The Motion Is Set

O N E -

In Which The Waning Comes

Shoreline of Wreathton | Fort Anthem | Lookout Post 4A

The Fifth of Onward. Fourth waning. First morning.

The sky overhead trickled with flakes of white snow. There was a soft cadence to the weather outside, wind occasionally pulling the gentle snowfall into a fast-paced flurry across the coastal plains. Tan squinted as one such gust pressed against his side, the paladin's stance squaring as he continued to survey the northern horizon.

A shimmering wall of magic obscured the vista of the land beyond. Each fleck of snow that passed through the barrier caused the border to flicker, a myriad of shimmering lights dancing across the horizon as the snowfall passed. The barrier loomed like an imposing gate, separating the northern lands from the rest of the continent. The corruption of demons lay beyond, the landscape blighted by its invasive and insidious magic. Little of the blackened vista could be viewed beyond the shimmering wall, the lights too intense to make out much of any shape. Many of his men's eyes were trained on that same horizon, struggling to keep watch for any shape that dared to break through. The grizzled man slowly turned his attention to the east, eyes following the border as it stretched out towards the coast. The glow of the barrier pushed out into the ocean before fading away completely, having fully separated the corrupted lands from its neighboring shoreline.

Tan's reports hadn't expected to see snow so soon into the fourth waning. His keep had projected this last rotation of wanings to be an innocuous one, but this snowfall had already begun to paint a much bleaker picture of the week to come. The paladin's breath wafted in the air as he let out a sigh of dismay. In truth it wasn't the dour weather that had Tan worried, but his station's morale. A frozen waning resulted in longer hours atop the watch posts, his scouts either grumbling on their off hours or out huddled in their coastal stations, half buried in snow. It did Tan no good to see his men in such disarray. They had enough things to complain about here without the terrible weather above their heads.

Tan made a mental note to order more fuel for the heat-lamps, lest he be forced to send his men out towards the frozen seaside unaided. It would take quite a few days for Fort Anthem to be resupplied, what with Wreathton's isolation from the rest of civilization. Life on the border was a dismal one, but if anyone had steeled themselves to this life it'd been Tan.

The warden quickly turned towards the trapdoor behind him as he adjusted the affixment of his cloak, the sound of boots coming up the creaking ladder signaling him to wipe the sour look off his face. His hand awkwardly fidgeted with the hem of his furred cape as a guard's helm popped up from below.

The owner of the helmet that came clambering up the ladder was none other than his newest recruit, a young man who had just recently been transferred out of the paladin initiative program. He was one of the many young squires who had joined his ranks willingly after the events that transpired near the Capital during the first quarter of the year. Tan had read over the first-hand reports of the incident plenty of times before the first of the recruits began to trickle in. Tan hadn't blamed them for their cowardice. The reports alone had shaken the warden, and he wasn't about to scold a few scarred recruits away from his understaffed fort. Guarding the great barrier was never pleasant work, but someone had to man the walls.

“S-Sir." The recruit began, his unfitted helmet rolling over his eyes as he slowly pulled himself onto his feet. Tan noted the lack of cloak. Whether the boy was inexperienced of Wreathton's waning seasons or if he'd simply never been handed one from Inventory was unknown to the warden.

“Out with it, Remmings." Tan began, his voice steeling as he quickly fell into practiced command. “Lest you freeze before my very eyes."

“I've been told to r-report to you." The guard's teeth clattered as he spoke, body hunching over as a strong trade wind blew through the lookout post. “We've rotated our surveillance teams early due to the change in weather, like you'd ordered. I-In addition, there's been an unexpected shipment at our gates."

“Shipment?" Tan frowned as he mentally wound through all of the letters he'd received in the past week. He'd heard no news of cargo, nor persons headed his way. “By whose authority?"

“Paladin Yore, from the south. His men left us with this letter. F-For your eyes only." The young squire pulled out a thick parchment from beneath his tucked-in elbow, its yellowed paper sealed with Yore's emblem. The package was quite heavy, as if something thick and bound had been bound up within.

“Wonderful." Tan grimaced, plucking the parchment from the squire. Paladins like Yore were responsible for making his job all-the-harder. He didn't bother to read the letter in front of his squire. No doubt Yore had left the warden with quite the lengthy write-up to explain why he had thought it necessary to send the troublesome 'shipment' his way. “How many are we dealing with this time?"

“This time?" The guard frowned, as if not fully understanding the question. “Um, just the one. We put him in the waiting cell. He doesn't really seem like the others, sir."

“Corrupted?" The captain asked, his curiosity piqued.

“No sir." The shivering male shook his head quickly. “We've double checked and everything. He's just… Some guy."

“Yes. Some guy who managed to piss off Paladin Yore." Tan grumbled as he gestured for the recruit to open the hatch back up. He watched as the male quickly scrambled to open the trapdoor, the squire's knuckles whitening as he tugged at the heavy latch.

“Pardon my assumptions sir, but-" Remmings paused as he yanked upwards, the thick wooden door slowly lifting beneath his grip. “From what I hear it's quite easy to piss off Yore."

“True." Tan let out a genuine chuckle as he offered to let his freezing recruit head down first. He watched as the guard quickly scampered down the ladder to escape the cold, the warden's own hands moving to tug at the collar of his cloak once more. “But getting his attention? Now that's the hard part."

The paladin paused as he moved to the edge of the trapdoor. His head turned upwards as he gave the vista one last glance. Even after all these years, this landscape never tired.

“Alright then." Tan let out one last resigned sigh as he bent towards the ladder. “Let's see what our prisoner has to say for himself."

Tan rubbed at his eyes as he let himself adjust to the dim light of the cell. It seemed his crew had yet to bother opening up the windows of the many-barred sills that ran through this cell block. Despite his troops efforts to bar the cold away, the human sitting in the far corner of his cell was shivering madly.

“Shame, really." Tan began, gesturing towards the frail human opposite him. “Most of our blankets were burned on account of a nasty bout of hopmites. And just in time for Fourth Waning, too."

The human looked up from where he kneeled, dark eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the half-armored paladin. His gaze lingered on the sigil of the Order etched, eyes narrowing.

“Oh good." The human droned, regret seeping from his tone. “A paladin has come to welcome me. Are you here to set me free or read out my 'alleged' crimes?"

“Alleged?" Tan asked, his brow arching in curiosity. “I'm sure you've noticed that this cell block is almost entirely empty. Surely you aren't suggesting that we'd bring you all the way here on 'alleged' crimes?"

“If you truly are a knight of the light you'd let me go." The scholar huffed, turning his head away from the paladin with a look of bitter resentment. “I'm no demon, and I've done nothing wrong."

The tired paladin sighed as he leered down at the scuffled bookworm. It was clear the man didn't get much in terms of fresh air. His body was soft, long black hair and scraggly beard only helping to further accentuate his unkemptness. Dried blood ran down the right side of the scholar's tunic, his collar stained a muddy brown.

“Who scuffed you like that?" Tan asked, gesturing at the man's battered and bruised nose.

“A gift from Yore." The dejected man huffed. “I'd never assumed your Order to be so quick to throw punches, especially on innocents."

“You wouldn't be here if Yore had found you innocent, kid." The paladin countered. “Surely a scholar like yourself would understand the severity of being sent to a prison like this. Fort Anthem. You heard of it? Home to-"

“-demons and traitors alike. I know your slogan, warden." The scholar sighed, nodding at the emblem on the paladin's half-armor with disdain. “You turn those who have sinned to stone. You starve demons of magic, without giving them a chance to whisk themselves away."

“Correct. Hellfire has no place on this side of the border. You should know this. In fact, I can't sense a lick of corruption on your soul." Tan pondered, giving the man a once-over. He knew the type. Thin. Lanky. Tired and sunken eyes that had seen more lantern light than sun.

“You could at least return them beyond the wall." The scholar muttered under his breath in response, knees curling up into his chest as he stared at the paladin before him.

“We do that to those who don't pose a threat. Those we deem innocent. Sinning without the intent to harm or spread is not reason enough to be sent my way." Tan responded, eyes narrowing.

“Then what of me?!" The scholar spat out in frustration, knees tucked against his chest as he spoke. “No due process. No justifications! Just a paladin barging into my home and-"

“-breaking your nose. Confiscating your printing press. And burning all sixty-eight versions of the same 'text' found within your home." Tan listed, his face still holding the same calm and collected expression.

The scholar bit his tongue in frustration as he realized that the man before him knew more than he'd initially bargained.

“I'm just a distributor." The scrawny man began, quickly backpedalling. “I've never-"

“-authored a six-hundred page novella? Hm?" Tan asked, cutting the bookworm off once more. “You're not the infamous ghostwriter of My Avarice?"

Silence. The scholars eyes were glued to the ground as the paladin stood before him, shoulders squared.

“You realize the Order has labeled your book as propaganda? Correct?" Tan continued, frowning as he watched the figure curl up into an even tighter ball in front of him. “Not to mention all of the inaccuracies. Spreading this kind of misinformation is dangerous. A demon bowing before a paladin? The two falling in love? Giving birth to a cambion? That's all myth, writer. Untruths, and dangerous ones at that."

“If-" A flash of anger flickered across the author's face as his gaze flitted up towards Tan's. “If it's just a myth, then why the hell am I here?! Surely the Order has better things to do than hunt down some sap who was just trying to-"

“To what?" Tan interrupted once more, leaning toward the shivering human opposite him. “Go on, say it. Get off? No, you wouldn't be here if it was as simple as that. It's your propagation that's caught our attention. Words are dangerous, writer. More than you know."

“Oh, fine then." The author couldn't help but roll his eyes as he spoke, his body still shivering madly. “You're right. I'm evil. Worse than any demon that's existed. Smite me where you stand and be done with me. Just… Do your worst."

The paladin blinked slowly as he stared at the dejected man before him. Either he was taking his predicament with tongue in cheek, or this man had truly stopped caring. It was never his duty to punish those who didn't take him seriously. Usually the solitary confinement did that part for him. The holy man found himself frowning as he looked at the writer before him, a new puzzlement playing out in his mind.

“So quick to resign to this fate? What happened to your innocence?" Tan questioned, arms slowly crossing.

“Huh. What innocence? You already think of me as the bad guy, right? Your problem? You paladins are unshakeable. There's no point in me trying to convince you that I'm not a threat." The author leaned back and stared at the dark ceiling of his cell as he spoke, his breath barely visible in the frosty air. “Besides, I'm already ruined. I'll just…"

The author stared at the stones in the ceiling as he slowly shook his head, eyes beginning to water as he let out a deep sigh. What little resolve the author had was shattering.

“I'll just rot here instead, Paladin." The author shrugged, only bothering to look back up at Tan after a moment's pause. “Least I can do is prove to you that I'm not a troublemaker."

“I see." Tan grimaced. The self-sacrificers were always the worst to deal with. No doubt this man's despondent attitude would leave the rest of his day with a rather bleak aftertaste. The paladin turned to the side as he adjusted the hem of his cloak, glancing at his exit out of this cell.

“Then sit here, forever, and dwell on the consequences of your actions. I've nothing left to say to one as spineless as you." Tan hissed, stepping out as he motioned at his accompanying guard at the door.

The author watched with sunken eyes as the guard slowly locked the cell shut. The captive man's temper was quickly dissipating into hopeless frustration. Battered, cold, and alone, the author slumped back against the wall.

“That's it then?" He spoke aloud, nose stinging against the cool air.

“You sound surprised. This is how you chose to go." Tan muttered, turning his back on the dejected male. “Now rot. Let your own despair sort you out."

Shoreline of Wreathton | Fort Anthem | Lookout Post 2C

The Fifth of Onward. Fourth waning. Fifteenth morning.

Remmings teeth clattered as the furious waning breeze washed over him. Even if each season only lasted around thirty days, the coming and going of arctic freezes hung heavy on the young recruit's shoulders.

Blasted waning, Remmings thought to himself, his eyes narrowing as he kept his vision strained along the northern border. Blasted lookout post. Blasted demons. Blasted weather.

The magical wall that separated humans from their demonic counterparts shimmered beautifully to his side as the blizzard passed through. Over his time at this station he'd seen plenty-a-hellbeast walking alongside the border, their hands tentatively reaching out to test at the barrier's strength. They were all doing the same thing. Looking for 'chinks in the armor', as Tan liked to say. Waiting. Testing. No doubt their 'princes' commanding them to do so. After all, Tan sent men like him down to do similar tasks, lest the demons began sneaking their way through a vulnerability.

Remming's knew the importance of his job; to survey the wall and make sure it held. And more so... To make ensure no corrupted human made the dangerous journey through the ocean to their purer shores. The keep's dockyard was completely frozen over this waning, which meant keeping plenty of keen eyes atop watchtowers. Unfortunately for Remmings, his luck had drawn him one of the worst shift schedulings imaginable. Having been out here since morning, the weight of high eyelids heavy, Remmings slowly trudged in place. The coast sat in front of him, stretching out along the east. The barrier shimmered to his side, stretching out into the ocean beyond. He'd grown accustomed to this horizon, and Remmings felt it was quite easy to spot something amiss from his post. But waning's made a simple task unbearable, the guard's teeth chattering as he clung to what little warmth he still had.

Remmings kept his eyes trained on the horizon. The rocks of the beach were no longer visible beneath the snow that piled high. Where waves had idly crashed against the shoreline sat frozen, silent sea. The only movement that stirred along the vista was that of the barrier, its shimmering stretching out into the watery expanse. The frozen sea had already spread beyond the reach of the barrier; a perfect walkway for any creature to tread across. Remming's gazed at the barrier, tired eyes blinking slowly as he kept his pace.

From Dawn to Tithing to Waning to Cusp, Remmings grimaced, and out of all the seasons that required constant surveillance it had to be waning.

He'd learned to keep his complaints to himself, as many of the others staffed here had before him. A single complaint within Tan's earshot would lead into an hour long lecture about the importance of their duties.

“Remmings!" A familiar voice shouted over the wind from behind the guard.

Speak of the saint…

Remmings slowly turned his back on the icy shoreline and saluted, his eyes turning down to see Tan's head poking out from the trapdoor below. The dark circles under the paladin's eyes only helped to further remind Remmings of his own exhaustion.

“Sir!" Remmings shouted over the blizzard, his shoulders squaring as he barked out the word.

“Get in here. Jess is going to take your place." Tan responded quickly before dropping back below. Remmings followed, his boots scrabbling desperately to return to the warm confines of the guard's corridors within.

The paladin stood before him, his armor barely visible beneath the furs and pelts of his many-layered winter cloak. Remmings immediately recognized the outfit as Tan's scouting gear, his treaded snow boots and sword giving away the paladin's intent.

The novice guard's heart sunk as he turned to watch another take his place atop the watchtower. If Tan had let him end his shift early, then…

“We're headed out into the thick of it." Tan confirmed, quickly turning on his heel before heading down the dimly lit hall. “This waning is proving even worse than expected, as I'm sure you're well aware."

Remmings didn't bother responding as he was led down to the supply chamber. Looted crates and overturned barrels sat scattered about in the messy storeroom. There was no time for inventory management during the waning, as almost every guard was either resting or placed on watch.

“The sea is freezing over." Tan began, hurriedly placing large amounts of furs and gear into the young recruits hands. “By the looks of it a makeshift bridge around the edge of the border had already formed. In a lighter waning I'd ignore it, but I'm afraid it's already become too dense."

“So what are we going to do about it?" Remmings frowned as he watched Tan continue to pile gear into his hands. Why had the paladin stacked four boots? The guard frowned as he watched the paladin work. “It's not like we can chop it up, sir. That'd take days."

The young recruits eyes widened as the last object was placed atop his pile of clothing. The stack of dynamite weighed heavy atop the stack, its fuse wrapped tightly around its bundled form.

“E-Explosives?!" Remmings stuttered, looking towards Tan in time to see him disappear out of the supply chamber. The guard numbly followed after, his mind reeling to understand the paladin's dangerous plan. “S-Sir! At least tell me who you're bringing along with us!"

T W O -

In Which The Fool Is Forced Along

Shoreline of Wreathton | Fort Anthem | Lookout Post 2C

The Fifteenth of Onward. Fourth waning. Fifteenth morning.

A bundle of clothing fell with a heavy thud at the author's feet, explosives clattering onto the cell floor. The emaciated male looked between the two men in front of him and frowned.

“So… You want me to come with you? To die in the ice for you?" The prisoner responded, reaching down to quickly picking up some of the warm looking furs.

“Just because you're expendable to me does not mean that I'm sending you to your death." Tan began, his arms crossing as he paused. “It means I'm offering you a different sentence. One with an inherent risk."

“An occupation?" The author asked, glancing towards the guard who had already been outfitted in similar trekking gear. The prisoner slipped on the warm boots as he thought it over, his mind quickly entertaining the thought of sitting down as equals next to the men who had guarded his cell. The boots were a warm welcome, the thoughts of something better drifting through the lonely writer's head.

“Of course not." Tan tutted. The slight hope that had budded within the author was quickly snuffed by the sound of the paladins tsk of annoyance.

“Then… What am I going to do with all this?" The author asked, frowning as he looked at the dangerous bundle by his side.

Tan watched carefully as the younger man picked up the dynamite. He had half-expected the author to refuse more; to try and strike a better deal with some desperate bargain. And yet, here he was, clambering into the snow gear.

“If you do as I say, I'll change your sentence. For now, my friend and I will escort you to the coast." Tan explained, gesturing to the guard at his side. “The ice is getting too thick and we'll-"

“-Need someone to blow it up. To stop demons from walking through." The author nodded. “But you don't want to risk your own men out there on the ice, so you're choosing me."

“I'll knock you down from fifty years to five." Tan offered, watching the author's eyes dart across the dynamite in suspicion. “You don't even need to light it. Just drop it down and return to us."

“I… I can do that." The author nodded, not even bothering to give it much thought. Even if this did kill him, it would beat the alternative of rotting in this forsaken cell any longer than he had to.

Tan smiled as he gestured to the guard next to him. “Tie him up then. We'll let the man get to work when we reach the coast."

The author didn't hesitate at all. He held out his hands and let the guard step forward; the sensation of being bound uncomfortably familiar to him.

“Just hold up your end of the bargain and I won't resist." The author shrugged. “I told you before, I'm not a threat to you."

“Kid," Tan sighed in frustration as he shook his head. “It's time you learned a valuable lesson. Saying 'I'm not a threat' doesn't mean a damn thing. I've met men corrupted down to the core who speak your words with twice as much truth. But when it comes down to it, it's your actions that define you. Not your words. You understand?"

“Sure." The author nodded, his eyes trained on the binding around his wrists. It seems they wouldn't trust him, then. A pity. “It's just a bit sad when you think about it. Doesn't it get tiring? Not trusting everyone? It sounds to me like you're colder than that blizzard out-"

“I am colder." Tan interrupted, his eyes blinking slowly as he glared down at the author. “You think they chose me to be the warden of this keep because I'm nice? No. I'm here because I don't get tired of dealing with men like you. Now move, before I make you."

The trek down to the eastern coast had been exhausting. The blizzard had shown no sign of slowing down, and the snow was already quite deep. The two moved through the terrible weather as quickly as they could, despite their extreme surroundings. The barrier to their sides flitted with excitement as the blizzard barreled through it.

The author was the slowest of the group. Having to trudge through such drastic weather was proving quite difficult, to say the least. The prisoner's arms were bound together in front of him, his attempts to keep himself upright usually ending in disaster. By the time they had even reached the shoreline his wrists throbbed with pain. Everything was numb, and his bones ached for refuge from the cold.

Looking around, there was no such place in sight. Open fields of white and ice blanketed the landscape. The barrier cut through the water for quite a distance before dispersing, its shape still shimmering through the snow. The terrain the three tread on was now completely made of ice and snow, the eastern shore wedgeed between two steep and craggy cliff ranges.

“Here." Tan spoke loudly as he cut the prisoner's bindings; casually pressing the bundle of explosives into the author's hands. “Tread carefully, now. Don't expect us to come out there to try and fish you out if you fall in."

The prisoner clutched at the dynamite with both his hands as he turned between the two men and the frozen ocean. The ice stretched on for quite a while, lining the side of the cliffs before continuing onwards. The shimmering and magical wall was just barely visible as it stretched off into the uncontested sea. How far away was the barrier's edge? It was hard to tell from this distance.

“That's the end of the barrier." Tan leaned in next to the shivering male and pointed at the same spot, way off into the ocean. “Walk up to the end of it and drop the dynamite exactly fifteen steps away. Any closer and you'll hurt the barrier itself. Any farther and you might find yourself on too thin of ice."

“And that's it?" The out of breath prisoner asked, squinting as he looked towards Tan. “Is one dynamite really going to be enough? I mean, it's just going to-"

“I didn't bring you here for your advice." Tan grunted, nudging at the man's side. “It'll keep them plenty busy. Trust me."

Cold gusts whipped at the side of the author's face as he watched the paladin nod confidently. The man turned to look at the guard who had yet to speak to him and traded glances. The author could tell the younger male was grateful not to be in his snow-laden shoes. He couldn't bring himself to move. A thousand fears raced through his mind as he considered what might happen next.

Was it painful, drowning? Was that a bad way to go? Would he freeze to death first?

Another shove at his side was all the encouragement the man needed to get moving. His boots dragged through the snow as he stumbled forward, as if his legs were automatically walking for him. He was too exhausted to consider any other action. There… There was no other option.

It beats rotting in that cell. Right?

The author didn't bother turning back to look at the paladin and his guard. Instead he pressed onward, moving as close as he could to the cliffside without compromising his balance. He walked slowly and carefully along the frozen shore, his eyes trained on the frozen expanse as he clutched the dynamite to his chest.

If I died here, would it really be that bad?

Yes. It would be.

The voice inside the author's head was not his own. The human hesitated for a moment as the whispers of an unfamiliar voice drifted through his mind. The human strained his ears as he looked about, only to be met by the whipping and howling of untamed winds.

All those days in solitary confinement had driven him half-mad. The author shook his head and turned to the open sea, his feet picking up the pace as he slid across the icy terrain.

You have another option.

The dynamite felt heavy in his hands as he walked alongside the barrier, his eyes focusing on the wall's end. All he had to do was set it down and come back to-

You have the other side.

The author stopped walking forward and skid along the ice as he blinked dumbfoundedly. The… The other side? The human paused for a moment before taking the last few steps forward, his body craning forward to peer over the edge of the barrier.

The steep cliffside that separated the two shores did well to hide the dramatic change in landscape beyond the barrier. While the beaches were almost identical, their shorelines caked in layers of ice, the snow that sat further inland grew darker and darker in coloration. The author had never seen black snow before, nor had he ever assumed he'd be staring out into demon territory. Slowly, he kept walking away from the barrier, eyes locked on the land beyond.

But to tread out there… Into the land of demons… Surely the paladin had known he would consider this?

The author looked back down at the dynamite in his hands before turning to gaze back at the small figures standing where he'd come from. Had it been fifteen steps yet? There was no doubt in the writer's mind that they were watching him… Waiting to see what he would do. Either they were planning to blow him up if he betrayed them, or-

Quite the hard choice… Isn't it?

The author shook his head as he looked back to the northern landscape. He frowned, his mind focusing on the deep and echoing words that lingered in the back of his head. That… That wasn't his voice, was it?

“Who are you?" The author asked, his words drowned out by the raging blizzard.

Someone you can trust.

“What is he doing out there, sir?" Remmings asked, watching in confusion as the tiny blip-of-an-author just stood there.

Tan frowned as he peered out at the prisoner, his brow furrowed in frustration. The armored man uncrossed his arms and let them fall to his side as he began trudging forward, his eyes trained on the author's face. He swore he could see the man's mouth moving.

“He's... Weighing his options." The paladin muttered, his words almost completely drowned out by the storm. “I fear he might make the wrong one."

“The wrong one?" The younger guard asked. “Sir, you don't honestly think he'll consider-"

“Watch." Tan interrupted, extending his hand out towards the eastern edge of the border.

Again, Tan could swear that the far-off human was talking. The paladin concentrated on his outstretched hand as he readied himself for the worst possible outcome. The author in the distance moved slowly, turning his back to the two of them before making paces to the east.

“He's doing it, sir." Remmings commented. “Fifteen paces and everything."

The two watched intently as the prisoner knelt down and placed the explosives a good distance from the barrier. Tan squinted as he watched the man turn around to look back at them.

“This is an easy choice, kid." The paladin glared. “Don't be an idiot."

The author stood completely still for a whole minute. Tan squinted even harder as he tried to make out the shape of the writer's-

Suddenly the prisoner was running. Not back towards the paladin, but up North. Tan watched as the author ran beyond the other side of the barrier and let out a sigh of disappointment.

“Fool." Tan muttered tiredly, his outstretched hand shuddering before a bright light began emanating from his palm. Three golden circles of light spun out from his reach like clockwork; each of them smaller than the last. Light refracted strangely within their centers, compounding the light further and further as magic was concentrated through them.

“Sir, he's still out there!" Remmings shouted, surprised to see his paladin taking action so soon.

“I know." Tan glared, his golden eyes now turning towards the bundle of dynamite that lay at the barrier's edge. “He's made his choice. I've made mine."

“But-"

Tan pushed his hand forward as the muscles in his arm strained. Compounded light compacted even more as it stretched into a small beam, which now shot forth across the ocean at an incredible speed. The ice and snow that traveled below the light melted quickly, leaving a small scar across the frozen ocean.

The concentrated magic struck the dynamite dead-center before dissipating, a strange absence of noise filling the coastline before-

KK-BBOOOOOMMMMM

Remmings shouted something incoherent as he recoiled backwards, the ice around the massive explosion sending fractures across the expansive waters.

Tan stood there, brow furrowed. Gold light shimmered as it trailed out from his eyes, a scowl quickly forming on his face.

“The fool."

Eoin never wanted any of this.

In truth, all he'd truly wanted to do was study the master's before him. The great works of Miltha Kragstein and Pollenmus Yorwick were why he'd started his schooling to begin with. There were so many beautiful and long-lost minds out there still recorded in all manners of texts and tomes… each tucked away in sanctioned libraries. Protected, of course, by the same Order that had banned them to begin with.

The young man had spent all of his money struggling to become a scholar, and during the few years he could afford to attend his school…

He'd learned all he needed to.

Eoin spent more time pouring through books in the annals of forgotten archives than he ever did on the texts assigned in classes. He read every one of the forbidden works from his dad's private collection, yet his hunger for knowledge was far from satiated. Soon he moved onto other books; their pupils and inspirers alike. They all spoke of such beauty and knowledge, the likes of which he'd never found in texts above the temple's chambers.

Why? The question shook through his head like an angry storm. His quest for knowledge became devoted to answering that single question. They weren't permitted, yet it seemed that every noble had their own secret collection of sacrilegious texts. All Eoin wanted was an answer. A reason to hide all of this! A single, authorized sentence! It's all he asked!

His answer came to him one fateful day, when Eoin casted the title of scholar aside in disgrace. A paladin had come to his college, and the words he had shared with Eoin rocked him to his very core.

“Miltha exists in those archives as an example of how even the greatest of scholars can be tempted to corruption. All of those who lose their souls must be sheltered from society, lest we see some semblance of humanity left in those consumed by hellfire."

He left the college after that. With failing grades and no money to his name, he couldn't continue on even if he had excelled. It didn't matter to the scholar. His spirit had already been crushed.

Ever since then, the only thing of pressing concern for the young man had been his livelihood. His parent's now-empty home had been sold to pay for his education, and without a completed training he found himself without home nor workplace.

The only thing that Eoin had going for him was the knowledge he'd absorbed. The young man had a knack for remembering, and as he scribbled on loose papers in a back alleyway he was surprised to see his own hand scrawling out the entire first passage of Miltha's poem Of Grace & Virtue.

He'd never considered it piracy. There were too many rich clients hoping to get their hands on these works to pay attention to the morals behind it. In truth, he thought of his efforts as a spreading of forgotten knowledge. One after the other, banned manuscripts would quietly find their way into the hands of educated nobles. Soon Eoin found himself binding books in a quiet part of Haltheus with a printing press in his bedroom. Sure, Eoin might not have remembered every line of the greats' works, but the writer tried not to think too hard about such inconsistencies.

The work was tiring. Aching and endless, he knew he'd eventually run out of volumes to reprint. The coin was good, but few and far in between. He'd heard tales of paladins repossessing entire noble's libraries because of a certain series he'd printed finding its home amongst their collection.

It was really the only reason he started creating the 'trick books'. Clients were worried about brazenly owning a copy of Love & Hate, so Eoin started to sell his texts as if they were others.

Still, this work felt unrewarding to Eoin. His mind had filtered through the same forbidden texts a thousand times, yet at night he tossed and turned for his chance to go back to that archive… to read more. To take it all in.

Eoin returned eventually, of course. He couldn't help it. He paid the hefty enrollment fee he'd spent the past five years saving up and immediately prepared to dive back down into the-

Oh dear.

The archive had been 'tragically' lost to a stray candle, the whole archive reduced to a chained gate and charcoal covered stone.

Eoin knew better than to believe the Order's lies. Each of the works in that archive had all been hidden away for the same reason, and now doubly burnt to a crisp.

Miltha? Pollen? Haltheus?

All corrupted. Their great works forgotten because they were deemed a threat to the holy state. When Eoin had first learned this truth five years ago he had almost wretched. The sickness that roiled in his gut as he stared at that barricaded and ash-covered library was far worse.

He fled home; back to his press and his manuscripts. He delved deep into the world of writing and creation with a new passion. He'd keep these works alive. He'd find others to help. He would not let their works die. And by doing so? He'd celebrate them.

Eoin released his first work a year after that. His connections across the state sent the book everywhere. He had written it as a testament to everything the holy order stood against. It was satire, through and through.

But to readers?

It was pure smut.

…

And they wanted more.

He gave them what they wanted. It only seemed right to supply them. Who else would do it? The great minds were all gone now; an entire generation of history erased.

And besides, it's not like text could corrupt someone. Talking about demons didn't lead to corruption, that much was the Order's propaganda. To succumb to hellfire, one must be exposed to hellfire to begin with! And yet, still, he found himself in such a predicament.

It wasn't his fault. None of this was his fault. He never wanted to start propagating these texts. He didn't want to resort to such manipulative and illegal methods. He did this to make a living! He never wanted any of this!

And yet...

As much as Eoin wanted to tell himself that he was some great writer, he knew what he truly was. He was a thief. A liar. A smuggler. Even his own texts paled in comparison to the great minds who came before him. He wanted to think he was above it all, but when it came time to look Tan in the face and tell him this he'd faltered.

He couldn't even look him in the eyes. He'd given up.

And now what?

You run.

Eoin blinked as the sound of an explosion echoed behind him. The impact was instantaneous, the slippery ground beneath his feet giving way as the immense blast pushed at his back.

He was airborne now. Eoin watched the ice fracture below as the world spun chaotically about. The ringing in his ears didn't cease as he landed with a heavy crack atop the ice, his body skidding and spinning about as thick ruptures splintered through the ocean.

Eoin's eyes went wide as both pain and adrenaline coursed through his body. His fingers scrambled in vain for a grip in the ice, his momentum bobbing up and down as the ocean fractured apart.

Get up, fool.

Eoin grunted in frustration as the world around him kept spinning. The writer felt his knees slam into something, a fissure in the ice pushing out to halt his movement. The sound of water crashing upwards was quickly followed by the icy pain of the freezing sea. The stabbing sensation alone was enough to spur Eoin into action, his hands reaching out and gripping at the cracks in the ice.

The cacophony of sounds, snapping and crashing, ground in his ears as he slowly dragged himself onto the shuddering ice.

Run.

“I-I'm trying!" Eoin cried out, gasping as he crawled out of the frozen sea. His legs felt stiff and numb, and as he tried to worm himself upright he could feel the ice beneath him continue to crack and shake.

Eoin slowly brought himself to a kneel as he stared out at the long stretch before him. The thick ice in front of him was lined with cracks, the terrain shuddering and dislodging into pieces. If he stayed out here for much longer, he'd soon find all of himself submerged in the frozen sea. It was too late to turn back now; his fate had been sealed.

The author shouted over the noise of the blizzard as he pulled himself to his feet. Each step forwards felt like it could be his last; like his body or the ice beneath him could give out at any moment. Yet still the author moved, his body feeling heavy and his movements sluggish atop the ice.

You'd rather die out here than run?

“I said I'm-!" Eoin paused mid shout as the ice beneath him ruptured. The effort to leap from one chunk to the next was more than exhausting, but the new block of ice beneath him was resoundingly unsteady as well. He couldn't stop moving, yet every bone in his body screamed for rest. To cease. To just give up.

“I said I'm trying!" Eoin roared, pushing himself to the next wobbling piece in the fractured field of ice.

The human's eyes were trained on the black shoreline, his gaze focused on the ice that had yet to splint apart. He knew he had to beat the cracks there, or else he'd-

Eoin cried out in pain as he felt his boot push down below the icy sea water. His leap had been careless, but Eoin had committed far too much into seeing this through to stop now. He kept moving, frigid foot stumbling across the frozen sea as he moved to thicker ice. The black shore was drawing closer now, and as he kept running the ice beneath his feet felt more and more secure. Had… Had he made it?

CRACK!

Thick lines pushed along the ice continued to snake past the writer. Eoin cursed to himself as he pressed onwards, his sprint looking more like a weak hobble than anything. He was so tired…

Run.

“I… I can't." Eoin choked in reply. The pain in his knees throbbed with each step. He could feel the ice beginning to separate beneath him; dark and painful waters waiting below. “Please, I-"

Keep moving.

“I'm trying." The author croaked. “I'm-"

A wrong step. A misjudged segment of ice. That's all it took for Eoin to slip back below the ice. The author cried out weakly as he felt the icy depths meet him, pain gripping his lower half like a vice as he gripped at the frozen water in front of him. He watched as the segment he'd grabbed onto snapped free of the larger cluster, and he cried out in dismay as more of his body submerged beneath the sea.

The author could feel his grip giving out, and with his last ounce of strength he kicked forward. His hand reached out towards the shore in a desperate attempt, his neck lapping at the frozen waters.

His hand found nothing to grab onto. He watched in horror as he began to sink, his head submerging completely beneath the water. Arm outstretched, he desperately reached out towards safety.

To his surprise, something else reached back.

A clawed and blackened hand plunged beneath the waters and grabbed at his wrist before yanking. Eoin could make out a sound from beneath the water… A howl of pain. There was anger in its voice. Frustration. The voice only became more clear as he was slowly pulled out from the ocean's depths.

“-damned human!" The creature snarled, its grip on his hand tugging at him even harder. Eoin blinked blearily up at the monster as it crawled backwards, heavy paws digging into the ice as it moved. There was another noise; the sound of hissing, like something hot was submerged in water.

Eoin's eyes focused on the beast's muscly arm as he realized where the unpleasant sound was originating from. The black fur which covered the animalistic paw was practically smoking as plumes of smoke erupted from the beast's hide.

“You'd better thank Victus for this, you-" The demon began, the hellbeast's paws desperately wiping at the salt water that still clung to his arms.

“Y-You're…" The human's line of thought trailed off as he stared up at the beast before him.

“My Prince wanted me to save your hide." The demon growled back, the massive wolf looming beside him. “So get your ass up and-"

Eoin slumped forward, his muscles clenching in the black snow around him. The author let out a weak groan as he felt his body slowly begin to give up. He was so… numb. The icy cold clung to his skin, mind reeling as panic began to set in.

“I'm going to… Freeze to death." Eoin mumbled through clenched teeth, his hands grasping at the wet clothing that clung to his skin.

“No you're not." The monster next to him groaned, it's blurry silhouette dragging over to his side. “Or at least, Victus made it out like you wouldn't."

The author didn't respond. His whole body was shaking now, lips pressed tightly together as his jaw clenched. The only thing he could feel was the tingling sensation of black ice on his exposed skin. A pleasant, prickling. Almost invasive to the touch. Was this what... hellfire felt like? These were the corrupted lands, after all. Shouldn't his body be twisting and distorting by now? All he felt was fatigue… so much… fatigue.

T H R E E -

In Which The Ice Settles

“By the holy…" Remmings muttered, taking another look back at the unsettled ice. Huge fragments jutted high into the air, the sound of their cracking surfaces sending shivers down his spine.

“Damned fool." Tan spat out again, already hiking back up the slope towards his keep. No doubt the noise meant most of his men were now looking in their direction, instead of focusing on their lookouts.

…That, and the Paladin knew better than to make a show of himself with so many of his men looking onward.

“Come on, Remmings. No need to gawk at the man's poor fate." Tan urged, squinting up at his keep as the wind whipped against his face. His legs felt a little wobbly as he dug through the snow, one hand coming to rest on his sword for support.

“Aye." Remmings nodded, quickly following after his Paladin. The younger man's heart was racing with adrenaline, the sight of it all stirring memories he hadn't let himself think of since their occurrence some odd years ago.

A great dragon soaring through the sky. Roaring with such anger. They say he ripped through the barrier with such ease, unflinching, like he could have it done it whenever he pleased. The hellfire encroaching. The shouts of panic. The chaos. Remmings shut his eyes and shuddered as he remembered the sight of the Capitol. The sight he saw that day, looking out of his post's window. Seeing that black scar of corruption across the fields and acres. So many had been lost.

A feeling of uselessness overswept the young guard, once more. A sensation he'd tried to drown out over the past few years of service here. Even if the Paladins had fought off the Dragon King… What had Remmings done? W-What was he doing here?

The shining light that emanated from Tan's hands not moments ago… That was their only key to victory, wasn't it? That was the only way they had managed to drive back the Dragon King, after all.

Through sacrifice.

Remmings shuddered as he thought of the man he'd just met, now sinking into the frozen depths below. A new terror to haunt his dreams, it seems. At least Remmings wasn't the only person who feared resting his head at night. There were plenty of other guards in his exact same boat. They were all rejects. They might as well have ran from their-

“Remmings." Paladin Tan barked suddenly, his voice raised above the whipping winds.

The young guard looked up at his Paladin, blinking in surprise at the amount of distance accrued between the two of them. He'd been caught in his own mind, and from the look on Tan's face, the Paladin knew.

“S-Sorry sir!" Remmings shouted above the flurry, quickly marching through the snow towards his Paladin. “I-I was just…"

Remmings' trail of thought came to a dwindling halt as he stood by the Paladin's side. Tan's expression had always been hard to read, and the young guard knew better than to come up with excuses on the spot.

“He had a choice, Remmings." Tan stated firmly, staring his guard in the eyes. “He knew that. Maybe not at first, but he knew."

Remmings didn't say anything. He stood there in the cold, looking up into his commanding officer's eyes.

“You know what the difference is, between a demon and a man?" The Paladin asked, breaking the silence once more. “Did you get that far, in your training?"

Remmings blinked as he realized he was being asked a question. His mind reeled for an answer, but all of his training had long since fled his mind, along with the rest of his courage.

“We have the choice to act. Do I exude magic? Do I make excuses that 'I can't help myself'? No. A human chooses to act. A demon does not." The Paladin muttered, doing his best not to let his teeth chatter.

“That bastard of a writer." Tan continued, nodding his head towards the end of the wall of light. “He chose his fate. And I don't pity those that choose death. Remember that. That's the difference between us and them."

The paladin turned on his heel without saying another word, and continued back up the slope. Remmings frowned, the image of the author's cold dead body still clung to his mind. Even if the man was given a choice, it was still a terrible one to choose between.

Remmings thought about speaking up. About asking more questions. Continuing the dialogue. Anything. But Remmings hadn't the heart to. The young guard didn't have the courage to do much nowadays, either. Instead he kept his mouth shut, and followed after.

The Paladin's words hung in the back of his mind. The author chose his fate… because he thought his chances were better off on the other side of the wall. What would bring a man to consider that? Either he was a fool, or Remmings was for thinking imprisonment was a better option.

The guard hung his head as he bore through the cold winds and snow. He wasn't much for thinking about these things. He'd leave the philosophizing to the scholars back home. All he wanted right now, was a warm meal.

“I can't wait for this waning to end." Remmings muttered.

The Paladin in front of him laughed at that, surprising the young guard.

“Aye, lad. We'll make it through. One day at a time."

…..

One day at a time.

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, The Prince of Heed's Domain

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Fifteenth noon.

Solitude.

The Prince of Heed slowly opened awoke, deep black eyes opening as he pulled himself free of the dreams he'd weaved. There was much to parse through, in such a small amount of time. His weeklong slumber had proven quite fortuitous.

All these years sat waiting in this very throne room. Dreaming. Seeking. They were always at their worst doing Wanings. The cold chill of the outside, his many denizens, isolated with only their thoughts to keep them company.

The Prince closed his eyes once more as he tried to sift through the contents of his dreams. They'd been recorded, yes, but there was something fresh… At the forefront of it all, a single word.

“Solitude." The demon muttered, his voice echoing throughout the quiet chamber.

The more detailed and tangential the whispers in his dreams, the less emphasis they might carry in the cycles to come. And yet… a single word. Repeated over and over. Such a statement had power, resounding across multiple possibilities. What it lacked in interpretation, it made up for in absoluteness.

The Prince of Heed mulled over the word in his head. It was contextually… a neutral term; no negative or positive connotations attached. Perhaps a sadness? Or was that the Prince's own bias at play. Obviously, in some degree, it most aptly described this corner of the continent. But the Prince couldn't help but feel that answer was too simple. Could this relate to the Keep across the shimmering gate? Those isolated within? What of the human he'd just convinced to wash up upon his shore?

There were plenty beneath him, who felt isolated and alone beneath his ruling. The Prince of Heed's heart sank slightly as he thought of them. It was his duty to see to his people. Maybe an end to their... isolation… was what his dreams sought?

The Prince dared not consider his own place alongside the word. His own exile was out of necessity to the kingdom. Nothing more. No doubt he played directly into the word's meaning, and yet… He couldn't bring himself to reflect on his path in life.

He had promised, long ago, that he would be the absolute. His path was already set, and no amount of dreams could steer him away from his fate.

The Prince of Heed slowly shook his head as he reclined, eyes turning to the door in front of him.

The demon had much to consider. But for now, he would await the arrival of his scout…

And the young man he'd sent him to fetch.

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, Coastal Shore

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Fifteenth noon.

Dark and laden clouds covered the skies above. Snow drifted downwards lazily, their movements rhythmic to the gentle breeze that washed over the mountainous valley. As the snow drew closer to the corrupted lands below, its brilliant white gently tinted to a dark and ashen shade. The ocean remained untouched by the corruption, glittering fields of ice stretching along the shore for miles. Wherever the blackened snow of the valley met ocean, the ice would fracture and splinter apart. It seemed like the corruption could never penetrate the salty ocean, black strands of ice pushing out towards the sea… only to come to a slow and violent end.

The hellbeast that stood by the shoreline did not flinch as he heard the ice pop and crack beside him. The chaos that had erupted in the dynamite's wake had quieted now, though the destruction remained prevalent.

“Stupid humans." The corrupted man growled, surveying the scarred sea. He rolled his shoulders as he carefully stepped over the unconscious man below him. The bitterness in his voice was magnified by the stinging sensation that still clung to his arms. Wisps of smoke still wafted from his dark fur, his hide damp from his plunge into the salty waters beyond.

“And you." The hellbeast snarled, turning to look down at the unconscious man that lay sprawled out in the quickly melting snow. The human was barely visible within the plume of smoke, his body drenched in the foul-smelling vapors of purification. “You're welcome."

The beast snorted as he knelt down beside the human. He knew he had to get these damp clothes off of the man, but…

“Ew. No. Gross." The hellbeast's wet nose wrinkled up at the thought of seeing more of this human's rather repugnant state. “Absolutely not."

The black-furred beast stared at the humans pale face. His lips were blue, corrupted snow landing on his skin before dissipating completely. The man frowned. Did humans have blue lips? He could have sworn they were supposed to look warmer than that. There was something he was forgetting… something Victus had told him to do.

The hellbeast brought his clawed hand down to the humans damp clothes and growled. It would sting like hell, but if he was careful he could pull this off.

“You'd better thank me later." The beast growled, his hands delicately stinging as he gripped and tugged at the wet clothing. The beast snorted as his canine muzzle curled into a grimace.

His large stature easily towered over the human as he worked, taking the man's wet clothing and tossing them away with quick abandon. The hellbeast frowned as he looked down at the cold and exposed human. Not having fur… must really suck.

The massive man leaned in and lifted the man from the melting black snow. He was surprised to see no hair at all on the man's back, the corruption having yet to phase him.

“No wonder Victus wants you." The hellbeast muttered, taking a few steps before placing him down on the sled beside him. The beast frowned as he wrapped a soft blanket around his form.

He'd done a few rescue missions like this before. Victus could always foresee the ones that would try and use the pass. Many were corrupted. Some still… 'human'. But all had been warped by the corruption by this point. In all his time watching over the coastal shore, he'd never seen Victus attempt to bring someone over.

The wolf looked over his shoulder as he trudged up the slope of the shore, tugging at the rope of the sled. The human didn't look important. Had the Prince seem him in a dream? No matter. It wasn't his job to ask why he wanted the man. He was only responsible for bringing him safely back to the keep.

F O U R -

In Which The Fool Is Dragged To His New Fate

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, The Prince of Heed's Domain

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Fifteenth evening.

The inner sanctum of the illustrious keep was covered in linens. Rich tapestries hung from the halls, its walkways lined with thick and detailed carpets. Royal blues lined with bold red accents were visible no matter where one looked. Corruption had coiled across the keep's marble long ago, the smooth rock now more polished than it had even been before. The mirror-like finish reflected everything in sight, giving each room a sensation of verticality that did not support its original design. The Prince and his men kept the corruption in check here, taking their residence in the once-shining keep atop Ridgecrest.

A flurry of snow blanketed the mountainous vista outside, a lone figure treading through a quiet hall of the great keep. The wolf's reflection shone in the ground beneath, his gaze fixated on the tall doors in front of him. His arms were wrapped in tight bandages, tufts of black fur poking out from beyond the hastened job. The corruption that emanated from beyond the doorway was palpable, even from this distance.

The Prince of Heed was awaiting his arrival.

The wolf brought his hands up to the heavy and corrupted doors and pressed his weight against them. The double doors groaned as they slowly gave way, the hellbeast's biceps bulging as he trudged forward. The wolf fought to suppress a wince, his arms still stinging from their plunge into ocean water.

“My… Prince." The hellbeast grunted, quickly ducking past the heavy doors. He bustled a few steps away from the doorway as the entrance closed behind him, a heavy and thunderous boom accompanying his announcement.

The wolf took a few more steps into the large chamber before coming to a stop. For every bit of rich tapestry that adorned the rest of the keep, the Prince of Heed's throne room was equally as barren. A few pillars supported the ceiling of the tall building, each surface casting a myriad of polished reflections onto another.

“Rhom." A deep and gentle voice rumbled out from the center of the room. “How I've missed you."

The scout kneeled and turned his attention up towards the Prince of Heed. The massive beast's throne was molded from the corrupted stone, its tall back reaching up to the ceiling as if it too were a foundational pillar. The elk's antlers stretched out beyond either side of the tall throne, his many branches adorned with light trinkets and baubles. The powerful stag lowered his head slightly in acknowledgment of the wolf's bow, his antlers twinkling as he shifted his weight.

“Yes. This waning has been a tough one. All of the scouts have been rather busy combatting the winter." Rhom began, pulling himself back onto his feet as he spoke. “And now that damned paladin is blowing up the ice again."

The Prince of Heed cracked a smile at the mention of Paladin Tan, his stern gaze softening just slightly. The bulky male shifted in his cushioned seat as he relaxed, broad shoulders arching against the corrupted stone behind him.

“You needn't trouble yourself with his comings and goings. He too, has an important part to play in all of this." The Prince stated, his steady voice filling the large room.

“Yeah? I needn't… 'trouble' myself with him, huh?" Rhom cocked a brow. This wasn't the first time his Prince had 'seen' some grand vision like this. “Well how long is he gonna keep being a thorn in my side?"

“Oh, my Rhom." The Prince of Heed's laugh was slow and mirthful, a heartfelt chuckle echoing through the throne room. The elk shifted in his seat once more as he stared down at his Thrall, his bright blue eyes shining with curiosity. “How many times must I tell you that time is not something I can see? A year? An hour? I cannot tell you this."

“A decade? Maybe four?" Rhom scoffed, folding his arms playfully. “Tell me this, then. Am I really going to be in charge of watching the coast forever?"

“Hmmmm… Forever?" The question brought a slight grin to the elk's broad muzzle. “No."

“Oh, ha." The wolf rolled his eyes as he looks away from his Prince. “As clear of an answer as ever, Victus."

“And it's just like you to delay your reports, Rhom." The Prince smirked, bringing a hand through his own chest fur. The elk let his posture relax as he blinked slowly, eyes fixating on the unique wolf in front of him.

“Fine." Rhom huffed, turning back to face Victus once more. “My report is the same as last week's. We're doing our best to keep the black ice formations at bay. It's easy to destroy them when they're small, but if we don't catch them within the first few days of their formation, they get too big for a single scout to take care of. Thanks to the system you suggested, we're now going out in pairs. We haven't had as much of problem with the big structures, but the problem is… its slower to get through all of them. And now, with your paladin chucking dynamite again-"

“You fear your men will be overworked." Victus continued, nodding along. The elk brought a clawed hand up to his temple as he paused, letting out a quiet sigh. “You are… Requesting more scouts, then?"

“No. No. It's the waning. And we don't have the resources to pull others into Recruitment." Rhom began. “We'll deal with it. Like we always do."

“And our guest?"

“Still human. Which is weird." Rhom shrugged. “Most have claws by now, or are already… revelring. Revering? Re… Reveling?"

Victus smiled as he watched the wolf struggle to say the word. It was always such a pleasure to have Rhom visit his domain. The elk had known the man his entire life, and felt a great pride upon seeing the wolf standing before him now.

“Reveling." The great stag offered, slowly rising up from his throne. “More correctly, it is something that happens to all who become corrupted. Revelry comes… Easier, to those corrupted."

“Well, not to me." Rhom huffed, frowning. “It's the ones that are fresh that seem to do it the most."

“Oh, Rhom." The elk shook his head as he walked forward, chuckling gently once more. The Prince of Heed placed a hand on the wolf's head, his size twice that of the man before him. “If only you knew the land beyond. Then maybe you'd understand just how much we… Indulge."

“From what I hear, the humans just die fast and eat really well." Rhom muttered, looking away from his towering Prince. “That, and their magic stings."

“What life must be like for you, my young Rhom, I couldn't possibly begin to understand." Victus said with a smile, fingers curling beneath the wolf's ear and scratching affectionately. “You should talk to the others more about their time before this. Learn of their lives before the corruption. There's much more to the humanity we've come from than can be seen at first glance."

“Sorry, but I don't buy that Victus." Rhom said, slowly pulling himself away from the Prince's gentle hand. The wolf's ear flicked as he stepped backwards, arms crossing tightly against his chest. “If that were true, then the persons you all were before are different than the beasts we are now. And I don't know if I like that."

“Says the wolf who refuses to call himself human." The Prince spoke with a knowing smile, antlers dipping and twinkling as he bowed his head slightly. “Maybe you've spent too long in my domain. Surely your view of us would be greatly changed if you spent a bit of time with another Prince, no?"

“No!" Rhom blurted out, his mind immediately thinking of the domain closest to theirs. He'd only stepped foot in the Prince of Clarity's domain once before, and his brief time with the fox was something he did not want to repeat. “No. I'm perfectly fine right here. I'm your head scout, right? You need me."

“Yes. The wanings are a crucial time for all of us… Lest we let our domain cover in ice completely." Victus nodded, turning his attention away from Rhom. The elk slowly strode around the side of his warped and towering throne, his gaze fixating on the locked double doors at the very end of the room.

Rhom hurried to catch up, the wolf having to walk much quicker to match his Prince's pace. The hellbeast's bare paws padded across the mirror-polished corruption as he looked up at Victus, catching sight of the familiar twinkle in his lord's eyes.

“You're scheming, aren't you?" Rhom asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Is this about the human? I bet it's about the human. Most of the ones I get to meet are corrupted by now, so what's his deal? Why go out and fetch him?"

“Too many questions, my Rhom." The Prince of Heed stated, coming to a stop in front of the corrupted double doors. The once-intricate detailing of their metal had now been warped and twisted by the corruption, its beauty now lost to time. “No answers worth knowing ever came easy."

“So there is a plan." Rhom said with a whisper, watching as the elk slowly brought his hands to his antlers. Thick fingers brushed against trinkets and baubles until they grasped around what they sought; a single key dangling from its place amidst his adornments. Slowly and with practiced measure, his hands worked to unravel the key.

“There are always plans." Victus added, pulling the key away from his antlers. “But a waning such as this is not the time for… scheming. We have much more important work to do."

“Fair enough." Rhom nodded as he watched Victus place the key into the lock. The elk twisted it, the internal machination of the door grinding apart. “So how can I help?"

The giant doors groaned as they were pressed forward, the massive elk making the task look easy as he pushed into the dimly lit room beyond.

“I will return to my slumber atop the throne soon, in preparation for our next… 'shipment'. Before that, bring the human before me. Preferably while he still slumbers from Haven's concoctions." Victus said, pausing as he turned back to look at Rhom.

The rows of tall shelves that lined the dark room beyond Victus had the wolf's eyes darting. It was rare for his Prince to open the vault in front of anyone, although he dared not step inside.

“You are to continue your work for the rest of the waning. Let it also be known, that I'd like you to write down your allotted yearly question, Rhom. Please don't try to waste it, and make sure the note finds its way back to me. Other than that? Hm. Let's see." Victus continued, retying his key to an antler as he spoke. “In a week's time, you'll report back to me, as usual."

“A-And the human?" Rhom asked, pulling his attention away from the vault. “You're not going to just let him roam freely, are you?"

“In a way, yes. I will be." The Prince of Heed shrugged, letting go of the now-dangling key. “But to put it more accurately…. You were requesting more scouts, yes?"

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, Living Quarters of the Ridgecrest Castle

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Sixteenth morning.

“You were requesting more scouts, yes?" Rhom mimicked in a mocking manner. “Why yes, I was Victus. How awfully kind of you to give me more."

The wolf's ear flicked in annoyance as he padded down the steps of the corrupted stairway, clawed hand sliding along the smooth-mirrored stone of the wall beside him. The corruption felt soothing to the touch, helping to numb the ache in his arms from his plunge into the salt water earlier today.

“Don't mention it, Rhom. After all, I know you can handle the extra work." The scout continued his mocking as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “The extra work? What do you mean the extra work?"

“Well, I know how busy you are. So I'm going to go ahead and make your job even harder by having you deal with that nonsense I put you up to earlier. Because I trust you, Rhom." The wolf rolled his eyes as he ranted, his noble posture from before now nonexistent. “But Victus. What if I don't want to drag the human around with me for the entire day?"

“A day? No, not a day my child." Rhom mocked, stopping in front of a nondescript wooden door. It'd been a full day since the scout's last full conversation with the Prince, and Rhom still found himself fuming over this. “He'll be with you for the rest of the waning!"

Rhom placed a hand against the wooden knob and twisted it. The door creaked open gently, revealing the rather bleak room inside. Hardly any of the demons would choose to live in a small den such as this, even if these living quarters were incredibly close to the Prince himself.

“Rise and shine, human." Rhom grunted, rapping on the side of the door. The bundle of blankets stirred at the loud repetitive noise, pale hand reaching out to cover himself back up again.

The wolf tutted as he sauntered over to the side of the bed. Was the human even aware of where he was? Funny, that his first reaction is to keep on sleeping.

“Hey human." Rhom began, pressing a hand on the bundle of sheets. “I have no idea what you've gone through, but I don't really care. You're my responsibility now, but I've got a lot of other tasks to take care of today."

The bundle lay still, the human inside possibly freezing up in fear of the big-bad-wolf. Rhom rolled his eyes as he tugged at the bedding, ripping it away from the human.

“Get up." Rhom said, lips curling as he let out an impatient snarl.

Eoin gasped as he reached out for the sheets that had been tossed aside. The man's plea caught in his throat as his hands moved to cover his groin. The author blushed as he dared not stare at the large beast before him, palms pressing against his own arousal. He'd awoken in the middle of the night and hadn't been able to fall back asleep since, his body pulsating with a strange and inconsistent pleasure. His whole body was screaming at him, but the needs coursing through him were conflicting. Eoin had been able to bring himself to pleasure many nights before, but now that the corruption coiled around his frame… it felt wrong. Dangerous.

Eoin felt the heat rushing to his cheeks as the tingling spread deeper. His urge to 'take care of himself' had now completely missed its chance. No doubt the large wolf was just as disgusted by his shame as he was. Should he… Apologize? Ask for clothing? The wolf in front of him was wearing a uniform of some kind, albeit revealing. Why had they taken his clothes?

“What's taking so long?" Rhom said, moving a hand to his hip. “Get up, before I make you."

The human glanced down at his groin, and then back up to Rhom. The wolf showed no sign of caring about the man's rather… exposed state.

“You don't care?" Eoin asked, his voice much quieter than he'd expected it to be. He slowly reached out to pull the blankets back over his groin as the wolf's ear flicked in impatience.

“Up! Now!" Rhom barked the order, grabbing the sheets and walking away from the bed.

“What?! No!!" Eoin huffed as he crawled after the sheets before stumbling onto his feet, cock bobbing in the cold air. He quickly moved to cover himself again, the thin man blushing madly as he glared at the impatient wolf. “At least give me some clothes!"

“Hmmm. Right. You are rather… Bare." Rhom hummed, squinting at the naked man before him. “No hide or fur. Not even scales. You'll need to wear the heavy stuff then, huh?"

The wolf turned on his heel and marched out of the room. Eoin stared at the wolf, wondering whether to follow in pursuit or wait for the demon to return.

Eoin didn't have to make the choice. The man had been too frozen in his indecision, and by the time Rhom returned he had only taken a few steps.

“These might fit you." The wolf grunted as he tossed the mix of armor, pelts, and loose underclothes alike to the ground. “These can be yours. We travel light, so only bring what you can carry in a pack."

“U-Uhm…" Eoin fumbled as he picked through the various items, the naked man blushing as he glanced at the wolf standing before him. “Where am I to get a pack?"

“Storage room." Rhom said, rapping the side of the wall as he waited for Eoin to stand. “Of course, it's going to be a bit of a mess, what with the waning going on. Hopefully we've still got a spare pack lying around."

Rhom squinted as he watched the human give the smallest of smiles out of the corner of his mouth. Shouldn't the human be freaking out right about now? Or… Something?

“S-Sorry." Eoin said, shaking his head as he set the clothing onto the bed beside him. He rummaged and yanked his hand about as he freed the loins from the mismatched set. “It's just… I feel like I was just doing this."

“If you had already done this we'd already be out of town by now." Rhom huffed, turning towards the doorway. “You're on patrol duty with me for the rest of the waning. The Prince's orders."

“The Prince?!" Eoin stammered. He hadn't spent a good portion of his life writing of the corrupted lands without learning of the hellbeast's who rule them. “W-Which one?"

“The Prince of Heed. But you cannot talk to him right now. He needs his sleep." Rhom said, tapping a paw impatiently against the corrupted stone below. “Which means we need to get moving. We've got a job to do."

Eoin fumbled with his loose fitted clothing. Most of the articles he found were patched and stitched together, their seams having ripped or torn apart on several occasions. The hardest thing to find was a pair of shoes that were still in tact. Most of the soles had been shredded. Whole boots had been ripped in half, with little done to repair them.

The author had noticed that Rhom seemed to find no need for shoes. Was that true of all hellbeasts? As Eoin looked over the large trove of ill fitted and torn clothes, he was left with a grim thought. He was too afraid to ask the impatient demon beside him, but… Did these all once belong to those who'd been corrupted? Did the loose layers of clothes he now wore, once belong to some demon out here?

And where was 'here'?

Eoin found his answer to the latter as they stepped outside of the castle grounds. Eoin's eyes widened as he looked out at the snow-laden city. Rooftops, thin and tall, crested into the sky above. Beyond them sat the once infamous port of Ridgecrest, its docks and shipyards destroyed amidst the craggy ice formations.

He'd read about the illustrious city before, in a few forbidden texts here or there. The image in his head of this trading city was… Different… than the visage before him.

Petrified, was the more appropriate term. Black and shiny stone now curled around the city like a cast, its textures poorly captured by the twisting stone. Tendrils of corruption transitioned seamlessly into black roof tiles, the light of the waning sun above catching in their gleam.

It was both beautiful and terrifying to Eoin, to see this city in such a state. It almost looked frozen in time. Forgotten.

The strange wolf explained that most of the Prince of Heed's denizens lived inside the city, but the hellbeasts couldn't say how large that number was. Had all of the citizens been caught in the Dragon King's corruption? Was there an overpopulation issue? Eoin caught Rhom scoffing at the notion, as if in disdain of the author's line of questioning.

A strange sense of uneasiness washed over Eoin as he walked through the corrupted streets of this once-great city. The black snow before him looked so strange, animal prints and the wheels of carts criss-crossed along thoroughfares. Plenty of the store fronts, windows, and doors of buildings had been sealed over by stone. It had a mirror-like quality to its surfaces, causing Eoin to repeatedly catch glimpses of his reflection on the flatter sides of buildings.

To think that the corruption could spread like this. At times, Eoin had felt he understood and could picture the calamity that had claimed half the continent. But this? Standing here, amidst the ruins of a once great city… Was humbling, to the author.

He could feel the corruption in the air around him. The magic tingled at his bare skin like cold air, but the sensation was far from unpleasant. It felt unnaturally good to take deep breaths, the charged air filling his lungs with a rush of something. Eoin had only been in the presence of strong magic a few times before, but that had been the work of paladins. This was corrupted magic, and there was no escaping it's grasp. The presence was undeniable, and the author found himself embarrassed for doing the sensation so little justice in his own writing.

He had thought the warmth to be something of pure arousal and need, but this was something much more… sinister. The air was comforting. Addictive, almost. The warmth felt like it was inviting him in. To embrace the sensation.

Eoin shook his head from the thoughts. His fixation on it had almost turned into something far more zealous than it had any right to be. The author felt exposed, as if he'd accidentally let the corruption in. His heart was racing in his chest, and Eoin needn't look down to confirm the tightness in his unfitted pants.

Flush with embarrassment, Eoin tried to push the thoughts of corruption from his mind. There was no solace to be found in thinking back to his old works, as most were inspired by his very predicament. Eoin would rather not think about his fate to come, and yet...

“How am I not a demon?" Eoin asked, coming to a stop at the edge of town.

Rhom turned to face him, hand on his hip. The backdrop of the forest behind him was grim; the stone trees and petrified landscape seemed devoid of life altogether, their only company the black snow that gently drifted down from the sky.

“You're not a 'demon' because you're still resisting it. The corruption, that is." Rhom huffed, raising his hands above his head to stretch.

“I thought only paladins could resist this magic." Eoin said with a frown, thinking back to his stories of men and woman instantly consumed by their hellfire.

“The way Victus described it to me was… that it wasn't so much about resistance, but about how much the individual could take before it starts to spill over. Everyone's got their own limit. That can change with time and training, even after you get all… corrupted. Some have no limit at all and succumb immediately. Some take a week or two. Paladin's look for people of the latter. People like you." Rhom explained, absentmindedly adjusting his head fur with a bandaged hand.

“So… I could have been a paladin? How, uh-" Eoin paused, pulling his eyes away from the wolf's bandaged arms. He ought to apologize. Eventually. “How long did it take you?"

“So many questions." Rhom muttered, shaking his head as he spoke. “I don't know if you could've been a paladin, mostly because I'm not the one doling out these 'aptitude' tests. We'll just have to wait and see when you start overflowing, I guess. Now come on. Let's get moving. We've got a job to do."

Eoin frowned as he followed after the wolf. He wanted to press further about the scout's transition into this… life. But the author knew better than to push his luck.

He'd learned that lesson far too recently to make the same mistake again.

F I V E -

In Which A Scout Gives Out A Lecture

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, Coastal Shore

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Sixteenth noon.

“This." Rhom stated, tapping the ice with the end of his hammer. “Is what we're here for."

He stood atop the jagged formation of blackened ice, looking down at the writer with a nonplussed expression. The once-calm shoreline behind the wolf was now a chaotic mess of cracking ice. Eoin could feel the ground rumble beneath his boots, large pieces of ice in the distance still grinding and cracking from the dynamite's damage. Monolithic pillars of ice jutted from the ocean, smoke pluming violently from them as their tips began to corrupt. They were turning black, smoke billowing from their forms.

“Some ice?" Eoin asked, a frown on his face. “I thought you said you were a scout."

“I am." Rhom stated proudly, puffing out his chest as he tapped at the ice beneath his feet once more. “And it's a scouts job during the Waning to take care of the 'scalds' that show up. That's what we call the black ice."

“Well… what's so bad about it?" Eoin asked with a frown, his confusion evident to the wolf before him. “I thought demons like corruption? Shouldn't this ice be… Not a big deal?"

“Not a big deal." Rhom scoffed, rolling his eyes as he propped the hammer up on his shoulder. The wolf hopped down, crouching as he slowly turned on his heel to face the large chunk of ice that had washed ashore. “If this scald is left out here by the time the Cusp comes around, it'll leave a nasty lump of stone in its place. Most corrupted things? We have a bit of manipulation over. But when scald hardens, it really hardens. Makes it almost impossible to deal with, unless you're really skilled. See, scald is corrupted salt water. It takes time to corrupt, and the sea can usually deal with any corruption on its own. But this salty ice can't purify so well when it's on land."

“So… then…" Eoin began, frowning as he watched the wolf grip the hammer with both of his hands. “What exactly are you going to-"

CRACK!

The demon drives the hammer down into the chunk of ice, sharp and jagged lines racing through it as debris exploded outwards. Large chunks of black ice rolled to the ground as Rhom yanked his hammer free of the ice.

“We smash them. Take the bits. And toss em into the sea, before they fully corrupt." Rhom explained, leaning over and grabbing at a large chunk of fractured ice in one paw. “That's where the salt water can overwhelm the corruption. Watch."

The wolf squints as he tosses the ice haphazardly out in front of him. As it starts to drop, a sudden ripple seems to distort in the air around it. In seconds the chunk of ice is sent arching through the air, Eoin having almost lost sight of the fragment of spinning scald as it plunged into the open sea. Even from this distance, Eoin could make out the shrill hissing noise of salt on corruption.

The writer's jaw was slack. He glanced at Rhom, who was now casually picking up his hammer from the black snow.

“J-Just now." Eoin uttered, almost completely at a loss for words. “What was that?"

“Hm? Magic. Corrupted magic, really. Works differently for everyone, unlike that shiny 'by the rules' stuff your Order uses. I'm sure you'll find yours eventually, even if no one really gets a say in the matter. Victus says the magic has a purpose in mind for all of us, but I don't believe that nonsense." Rhom shrugged, lifting his hammer into the air once more. “Puts a fatigue on you. Mind and body, and it's pretty tiring to use, so-"

CRACK!

Another blast of shrapnel scatters about into the black snow around them. This time, Eoin had protected his face with a cautionary hand. The scholar was still awestruck at the strength behind each of those swings. Despite Rhom's sleek frame, he still effortlessly lifted that hammer like it was half its weight.

“I usually just carry them out to the sea's edge by hand. Magic takes up too much effort, but it's quicker." Rhom huffed, grabbing at a heavy piece of shrapnel. “Which is exactly why Victus gave me you."

The wolf haphazardly tossed the block of ice towards Eoin, the writer still staring dumbfounded at the demon. It slammed bluntly against his chest, knocking a bit of air out of the human. His arms curled around the hefty weight as he stumbled backwards, face now contorted in a wince.

“Welcome to your new life, Eoin." Rhom said, lifting the hammer back up over his shoulder. “I hope it beats rotting away in that prison cell."

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, Coastal Shore

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Sixteenth noon.

CRACK!

The sound of Rhom striking corrupted ice could be heard from across the stretch of frozen sea. Eoin glanced back at the noise, unfitted boots slipping across the icy expanse. The writer had lost count on the amount of times he'd come to the ice's edge. The dynamite had ruptured much of the ice, making his trip much easier than it could have been. The resulting blast had done much to disrupt the ice here, much of it now collecting in piled stacks at the shoreline. Rhom had been doing his best to hammer and chip away at it, but the progress he was making was far quicker than Eoin's own handiwork.

Plunk.

The heavy ice dropped into the waters unceremoniously, a gentle hiss of bubbles and steam rising up after the ripples. Eoin shivered as he thought of Rhom's bandaged arms once more. How badly had he hurt the demon? He'd wanted to apologize, but he didn't exactly know how.

“Thanks for saving my life." Eoin began, practicing his apology. It felt lacking in the writer's ear. How could he apologize if he didn't mean it?

CRACK!

The writer sighed as he turned back towards the shore, shoulders rounded. He trudged carefully across the ice, wiping his brow of sweat once more. They'd been at this for a few hours now, and they'd barely cleared out this small stretch of the shore. What about the rest of the ice?

The Ridgecrest shipyard loomed in the distance, its silhouette jutting upwards from the long and winding shore. Craggy black stone jutted from the water, wrapping around the dark harbor in jagged formations.

The Dragon King had besieged Ridgecrest from there. The water's seemed frozen in time, no doubt turned to scald from the strength of his fire alone. The landscape there seemed scarred in comparison to the rest of the shoreline. How long had Rhom been protecting these shores from harm? He was a demon, after all. Their lifespans were much longer than the average human's. No doubt he wasn't the only hellbeast tasked with such a responsibility.

As Eoin trudged, he couldn't help but wonder about the Prince who sat at the heart of Ridgecrest. He'd always depicted Prince's in his writing as all-powerful and hulking behemoths, bent on tearing down the paladin's Order at all costs. Everyone made Prince's out to be some ultimate embodiment of primordial evil, their foil, and yet…

Here Eoin was, scooping up ice and dumping them it into the ocean, for one of those primordial evils.

The writer was puzzled. He could go as far to say that he was even a little embarrassed at the prospect of meeting a Prince and having his depiction of them shattered. Eoin winced as he mentally skimmed the contents of his writing. Rhom had already dashed much of his expectations. Shouldn't fur be sprouting from his body by now? Rhom had yet to elicit that raw, sexual degradation that so many authors before him had depicted in hellbeasts. The wolf was powerful, yes, but he'd yet to make a move on him. Surely he was ripe for the taking, to be corrupted against his will and-

CRACK!

Eoin stopped in his tracks and blinked.

“What am I saying?" He muttered, shaking his head as he tried to clear his thoughts. Had he seriously just felt disappointment in Rhom's disregard for him?

Eoin shuddered as he suddenly became aware of the magic's presence once more. Corruption clung to the air around him, the writer's skin crawling as he felt it brush against his body. In that moment, Eoin realized that he had grown accustomed to it during his busywork. It wasn't until Eoin had paused to consider it once more, that he remembered just how insidious it felt. His feet were tingling, his half-ripped boots ensuring that plenty of black snow had found their way inside. His toes weren't just numb from the cold, no. Far from it. They were warm, and tingling with that same corrupted magic. Yet… Something was different. It wasn't just surrounding his soles, no. The warmth. The hellfire. It had seeped into his feet.

A sense of urgency raced through Eoin as he scrambled to take his shoe off atop the ice. He fumbled with the laces as he hopped awkwardly, before falling backwards. Using his other shoe, he kicked at his heel, letting out a panicked grunt. The worn shoe dropped to the snow-covered ice below, Eoin's eyes widening as he stared at his blackened toenails.

“No… H-How..." Eoin whispered, fear creeping into his voice as he stared at his corrupted foot. The skin between his toes seemed to have fused together, the once-sparse black hairs across his feet having turned into a thick and matted forest. Most horrifying of all were his toenails, having darkened into an almost frostbitten coloration. They seemed to have grown outwards, the nails having thickened and spilled out over his fused toes.

How had he not noticed?

CRACK!

The corruption. He could still feel the hellfire in his feet, toiling about as it manipulated his flesh. The magic was changing him. Turning him into a beast… And it had been doing so without Eoin even noticing.

As the panic within Eoin rose, the hellfire within his feet seemed to burn brighter. The intensity of the tingling only got worse, and soon his feet were erupting with a new sensation.

Pleasure.

The blood-curdling yell that had almost escaped Eoin's lips was quelled as he let out a series of confused gasps. It was as if the hellfire had been found out, and was doing its best to distract the writer from taking any sort action. His toes shuddered and popped as the changes continued before his very eyes. Each contortion brought a series of delightful spasms to Eoin's body. He gasped, biting his lip as he watched his thickening toenails wrap completely around his toes.

The arch of his foot popped and cracked as Eoin shuddered, fur pushing forth from his ankle before his very eyes. A sickening sensation of delight rocked through the author as he realized what he was staring at. Eoin let his newfound hoof drop into the snow as he sat upright, heart beating in his chest as he watched his leg hair begin to darken. The hellfire was spreading. His groin pulsed at the thought, Eoin gasping as he basked in the corrupted snow.

CRACK!

“W-Wait." He whispered, lips trembling. Eoin cling to the small amount of reservation within him.

The writer reached out and grabbed at his leg, squeezing it tightly.

“N-No. I'm n-not… Ready." Eoin begged, body tensing in retaliation to the throbs of pleasure. He glanced at his other foot, his shoe having split apart to allow his other hoof through. The man struggled to yank the torn shoe off, tossing it aside in frustration as he stared down at his disfigured feet. He was afraid to touch them, in case the hellfire within might erupt and spread outwards.

Eoin took a deep, shuddering breath. His loins still throbbed in delight, taking some sort of abstract pleasure from the corruption. The writer bit his lip as he held back his hands, not allowing himself to further the stimulation.

Slowly, Eoin angled his wobbly hooves against the ground. It felt like he was balancing on the tips of his toes as he slowly rocked himself up into a crouching position. Eoin's hands stabilized his center of mass as he took a sharp inhale of air. He closed his eyes, held his breath, and tried to stand.

CRACK!

Eoin stood effortlessly, his rise from the ground nearing a posture one could almost consider graceful. The writer opened his eyes in surprise, gasping at the sudden and natural sensation of balance he found atop these hooves. Maybe this would be easier than the author had first assumed. Testily, Eoin shook off his nerves as he exhaled slowly. The man lifted a hoof out of the snow and took his first step… Before unceremoniously tripping over himself.

…

CRACK!

Eoin lay there, spread out, his brow furrowed in disappointment!.

“Okay…" Eoin huffed, corrupted snow pressed around his body. The writer let himself lay there for a moment, the human wondering if he'd just completely forgotten how to walk.

The ocean breeze washed against his back as minutes passed. A heavy weight felt like it was pressing down on Eoin's back. The heaviness built as the other took a deep breath. All this ice lifting had been hard work. Sure, the printing press had been hard on his back before, but all of this walking back and forth was killer.

“If only I had some kind of magic." Eoin muttered. “Like… Floating powers. Levitation. Teleportation. Telepathy. Any sort of 'tele', really. Anything to help me get rid of all this ice."

The writer was to be offered no such luck. Eoin would be forced to pick himself back up off the floor. The ice would not pick itself up on its own, and Rhom showed no signs of slowing down as the sun slowly sank over the horizon.

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, Seaside Treeline

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Sixteenth evening.

Eoin stared at the horizon on shaky legs, thighs trembling in protest after a day of arduous labour. The sky above was filled with vibrant, warm colors. Snow gently flitted through the air, the dark specks clinging to Eoin's mismatched clothes. The warm colors filled the icy sea with a bounty of different hues. The reflective waters shimmered, tossing the light about this way and that. In contrast, the shore itself was dark, and quiet. The lack of waves coming from the frozen beachside made it feel hidden to the senses, the dark having absorbed most of the setting light.

“I thought you said your legs hurt." Rhom commented. The gentle warmth behind Eoin reminded him of the campfire they'd prepared just moments ago.

Eoin turned around carefully, treading lightly atop his hooves as he made his way towards the crackling fire. The writer cautiously knelt, doing his best to steady himself as he dropped to the ground. The changing man wasn't too keen on falling face first again, especially when so close to an open flame.

“What are you being so careful for?" Rhom asked, shirking off his coat as he spoke. “The more you doubt, the more you'll waver. Sit down."

Eoin sat, hooves awkwardly stuffing beneath his knees as he crossed his legs. He glanced down at his feet in confusion, still awed over the change. A tentative hand reached down and ran across one of the hooves. Smooth. Hard. Damp fur ran up his now-contorted ankles. They looked like they belonged on an animal, not a human.

“This magic. This… hellfire. It's not going to stop, is it?" Eoin asked, glancing up at the beast sitting across from him. He tried to imagine what Rhom would have looked like beneath all that fur, his brow furrowing as he tried to clear the discouraging thought. It wasn't just the skin. It was the bones, too. All of it was subject to the corruption's whim.

All of Eoin would change.

“That's a dumb question." Rhom grunted, reaching for a small pouch on his hip. His clawed hand rummaged about within as he paused, a look of concentration on his face. “Of course… you'll… change. I've yet to meet someone who hasn't. We get a lot of newcomers, on account of being near the wall and all."

Rhom quickly pulled a handful of something out of his pocket, palm upturned as he turns his attention back to Eoin. The wolf flicked the clawed hand upwards, small blur flinging upwards in time with a sharp crack from the firewood. Rhom watches it carefully as a brownish bead arcs through the air, before snapping down at the open air it inhabits. Rhom starts chewing, tongue curling as he focuses on eating whatever he'd just pulled from his pocket.

The wolf noticed Eoin staring and glances down at his hand. He scoots through the snow slightly, before extending his palm out towards the writer. Several more balls lay inside, their color and consistency indicative of some sort of chocolate delicacy.

“I thought Victus said you were a writer on these things. An 'expert' on hellbeasts… No?" Rhom asked, waving the handful towards Eoin expectantly. “Or was that just Victus pulling my tail?"

“I-" Eoin paused as he remembered his writer. A blush crept across his cheeks as he remembered his depiction of hellbeasts as these raw, sexually dominating demigods. “Uh… No. If I ever thought I was, I was a fool for assuming so. I was just… well-read. But Victus wasn't pulling your tail, I-"

Eoin paused, stumbling amidst his effort to pull himself back onto his feet. He falls over into the snow, groaning as his coat sinks into the black snow. Just when he'd started to dry off, too…

Carefully, Eoin pulled himself upright. The wolf busily snickered, tossing another one of the chewy-looking morsels into his mouth.

“How did-" Eoin paused as he stumbled towards Victus. “How did Victus know I was an author? He's the Prince of Heed, right? Can he read minds or something?"

“If only it was that easy." Rhom sighed, eyes following Eoin's fingers as he plucks a few of the balls from his palm. “If you ever hear a voice in your head, that's Victus. When he dreams, he, uh, tends to drift. He explained it like… When you're doing something really boring? And you can sort of just let your mind wander off. After a while, you can start to forget about the task you set out to accomplish, you know?"

“So… He's a deep sleeper?" Eoin asked, tentatively sniffing at one of the balls in his hand. It smelled like soil, but it'd been quite some time since the writer had put anything inside him.

Rhom waited to answer as he watched Eoin place the small ball in his mouth. His ears flicked as he watched the human wince at the taste.

“You like it?" Rhom leered, watching as Eoin debated on whether or not to spit out the packed ball of soil. “Because this is some of the finest stuff you'll find out here. Imported directly from the Prince of Yield's domain. They come in after every season with a new shipment, which Victus trades for in kind."

Eoin shuddered as he forced himself to swallow, his throat struggling to push down the muddy ball of dirt. The writer coughs, dropping the other balls as he reaches for the waterskin Rhom had given him. The corrupted water tasted far better than the chewy ball that clung to his teeth.

“You can forget about trying to find a living creature out here that isn't a beast like us. And crops? Hardly any nutritional value comes out of whatever grows. Even that water of yours took time to corrupt. You'd think we can make a lot of our own, but scald makes it impossible to salvage much drinking water out of the ocean. We leave that up to the other domains." Rhom grunted, watching with delight as Eoin tried to rinse the taste out of his mouth. “I'm sure it doesn't taste as good as all the fatty livestock and huge farms you have back home. But don't worry. You'll get used to it."

Eoin watched as Rhom popped another small pellet into his mouth. The writer winced as he slowly set the rest of his food down on the snow beside him. He glanced at his waterskin, it's scale hide shimmering in the campfire's light, and found himself wondering about something he'd never considered before.

“So… In this economy. What does your Prince sell? What is, uh, this domain's export?" Eoin asked, slowly moving to close his waterskin as he looked up at the wolf.

Rhom swallowed and licked his chops, grabbing at the snow by his side and rubbing it against his palms.

“Clothing. Art. Water. Sometimes we take scald before it hardens, shave the ice into all sorts of shapes, and sell that." The black wolf shrugged, shaking his hands free of the black snow after thoroughly washing his hands. “But most of all? Prophecies."

Victus drifted along through the Unforeseen. The sights and sounds before him bled in and out of each other, the monotone world swirling about like a black and white watercolor. The elk patiently waited for his arrival, having had little idea where his dreams were taking him.

The elk had been dreaming for quite some time now. His body felt sore and distant, the blood in his head throbbing with each pulse of his heartbeat. The tempo it created was something familiar to Victus. Slow and steady, his body now doubt limp without him there. Instead Victus drifted, doing his best not to focus on the countless probabilities his unwaking mind was tirelessly calculating.

Finally, Victus felt himself focusing on a particular figure he had wanted to visit for quite some time. The Unforeseen had a knack at delivering Victus to the correct people at the correct time, and the Prince was delighted as the world around him slowly stabilized into a single dark room.

Her clawed fingers busily moved across the chalkboard as she worked, a clipboard in her free hand. The piece of chalk in her grip was almost completely gone, yet the woman seemed intent on using the last of it. Victus' view of the dimly lit den was largely dependent on what she saw, his eyes moving in tandem with hers as she counted the number of rows she'd just drawn on the chalkboard.

You'll ruin the chalkboard, running your claws across it like that.

The busy demon gasped as the voice rolled through her head. She took a step back, hooves scraping across stone as she glanced to her side.

Need I bring you more chalk myself?

“My Prince!" The demon said at last. Her voice was deep, and full of surprise. She shook her mane in protest at the ridiculous request, setting the small nub of chalk down and picking up a much longer stick. “You needn't do something so minor, my Prince."

Simply checking in, Pevlan. It's been a while since we last talked. I know how busy you are, but it's been two seasons since your last report.

Victus was not privy to much during the Unforeseen. He couldn't see her expression through her eyes, nor feel the emotions that wracked through her. Nevertheless, the hesitation he'd just caused Pevlan was not something that made Victus comfortable.

“It's just," the equine woman paused, glancing at her clipboard. Several dozen names were scribbled there, a long tally of X's crossed by their names. “There is not much to report on, my Prince. But nevertheless, my ladies will-"

Results are one thing, Pev. But that is not what I ask for. I miss your visits, Pevlan. Is your den so busy that you can't spare a moment of your time?

The equine's tail flicked as she shuddered. Her hoof stomped against the ground as she turned away from the chalkboard. Her room was beautifully ornate, the bed even larger than Victus' own. The linens and soft silks that drape across the bed frame looked fresh, no doubt ready for wanton travelers looking for respite that night.

Your den offers me far more than results, Pevlan. Your reports are valuable insight. Results are the least of my concerns right now, Pev. Please remember that.

“I apologize, my Prince. It's easy to get caught up in it all, but moments of reflection can be difficult for me at the best of times." The equine sat down at the edge of her bed, reaching for a metal pitcher of water as she huffed. “If you're here now, that means we can go over the reports."

Not quite. I haven't long, Pev. I believe I've come to ask you for the comings and goings of demons crossing that mountain pass of yours.

“I assume from other domains?" The hellbeast asks, bringing the cup of tainted water to her lips as she pauses. “There were the usual traders, coming in from Yield's domain. They stay for more than a night."

She crossed her bare legs as she paused, setting her cup back down on the bedside table as she reached for her clipboard.

“Had a group come through… right before the waning. About three of em. All boars, from Vim's domain. You could tell, on account of all that paint they wear. Should have arrived down by you before the waning picked up." She says, flipping through the names and crosses as she compares them to the guest registries. “Don't know why they went through our pass. I'll ask the others if they'd said why, but I assumed they would have passed through Clarity's domain."

They wouldn't have. I've too many eyes on that border. Thank you for this, Pevlan.

“If they come by again, am I to refuse them?" Pevlan asked, suddenly curious. “If they're a threat, I don't want them near my-"

Occupy them, but be on your guard. You needn't worry. Scouts rarely take the same route back.

“You don't reckon they're here for the ice pass, do you?" Pevlan postulated, frowning as she taps at a few of the guest names.

No, no. Our neighbor, the kind paladin, took care of that. I worry that they might be here for other reasons, doubly so if they're wearing paint.

“Are tensions rising, my Prince? Is there concern?" Pevlan asked, turning her head to look at the den's ceiling. “If they come by, I can-"

No, Pevlan. Just being preemptive. The dreams, they... are trying to tell me something. Of what, I don't know.

“Don't tire yourself out, Victus. This domain needs you." The equine offered, bowing her head.

The same to you, my lady in waiting. Carry yourself with pride.

Victus could feel himself being pulled away. The Unforeseen was taking him elsewhere, the colors of this small bedroom smearing into one another before dissipating into a torrent of motion. Victus allowed himself to be carried on, doing his best to calm himself as his body tensed. The other domains knew how much Victus relied on their exports, and his time spent divining only drew longer during wanings. The elk pondered how Rhom and his newest scout were doing, silently hoping that his dreams would take him to visit their work.

The swirling Unforeseen finally seemed to settle on warm, dark colors. The elk stiffened in his sleep as he peered through the eyes of an old friend, human hands splayed out atop a tattered manuscript. The paladin turned the page of his text by candlelight, eyes skimming the contents of the holy record. Victus' heart ached as he recognized the script, old memories flooding back to him. The Unforeseen had brought him here, but Victus had assumed his involvement in the coming months had already ran its course. The elk didn't dare move, his dreams having brought him to the paladin's doorstep. Instead, he watched through the paladin's eyes as he turned the page of the ancient manuscript. The elk pondered on the thoughts that might be racing through the paladin's head now. Discontempt? Anger? Contemplation? He hoped the latter, and yet-

The book shut suddenly as the Paladin stood, chair knocking to the floor as he turned to his side.

“Who is there?" Paladin Tan barked, scanning the room as he traced a rune in the air beside him. His fingers dug into the floating letters as he carved out the protection spell. “Show yourself, demon."

Victus was relatively surprised. Not only had Tan recognized his hovering, but had immediately begun casting an entrapment-classification spell. The Prince couldn't help but smile. After all these years, Paladins were still using the same glyphs.

Fate has brought me here, old friend. Please, it seems there is something we must-

“I've… Nothing to say to a husk of a friend." Paladin Tan muttered, hand dismissing the glyph as he recognized the source of the corruption. The mage brought his palm to his forehead and shouted a command, a blast of light blinding Victus' vision.

The blast seared brightly as Victus was pushed out of his dreams. The sound of cracking glass rang in Victus' ears as he pulled himself from his bed. The Prince stumbled as he reached blindly, eyes blinking as he tried to regain his vision. It took the Prince of Heed a moment to regain his composure, nostrils widening as he breathed through the stabs of pain.

“All these years, Tan?" Victus huffed, snorting as he shook his head. “And you're still stuck reading the same books?"

The elk slowly knelt back down atop his bed, hands moving to clasp at his eyes. He could feel them recovering, beneath the shooting pain. It would take a few minutes to recover, but Victus was anxious. Not for himself, but for the prophecies that lay by his side. The Prince slowly slid a hoof across the smooth, corrupted stone, letting it brush along the broken glass and sand that lay by his feet.

“Light be damned." He cursed, stomping his hoof in frustration. All of that time spent, wasted.

The Prince of Heed slowly crawled back down into his sheets, burly body splaying out as he took a deep breath.

“Never stop moving. Just pick up the pieces, and keep moving." The Prince muttered under his breath, blinking repeatedly as he stared at the dots in his recovering vision.

S I X -

In Which The Fool Opens Up To The Scout

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, Coastal Shore

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Seventeenth evening.

Eoin squinted at the setting sun. He stood at the edge of a hole in the ice, his hooves dusted with black snow. The writer panted as he watched the sun slowly set, eyes bleary from his long day of bleak work. The cold nipped at his cheeks, his hands numb from the black ice he'd been transporting all day. A chunk of the black water was still clasped in his grip, his fingers digging into the shattered block. Slowly, his grip on the ice began to loose, the weight slipping out of his hands and into the still water below. A splash of ice water leaped from the ocean, pulling Eoin from his daze as a sharp pain washed over him. The writer stumbled away as he yelped, confused as to why the water would burn him so.

The writer looked down at his hooves, now wet with the ocean's water. The hissing that emanated from his bare hooves and fur only seemed to make the pain worse. Eoin ground his teeth together as he looked upwards, doing his best not to hop up and down as he inched back towards the shore.

“Is that what salt water feels like?" Eoin hissed to himself, eyes watering as he quickly stumbled back towards the shore. The ice from the ocean didn't sting nearly as bad as the water's below, but Eoin hadn't the conscious to come to a conclusion as to why. The writer simply hobbled back the way he came, sinking his hooves into the black snow as soon as he could.

The author sighed in relief as the pain lessened, the hissing coming to a stop as soon as it made contact with the corrupted snow. Eoin felt the hellfire simmer within his lower half, the corrupted magic all-too-prominent in the author's thoughts.

“I'm… I'm changing." Eoin huffed, putting his hands on his furred knees as he bent forwards. He stared blankly at the black snow in front of him. The author had yet to come to a decision on whether his shift was a good thing or not. So far, the only thing this corruption had brought him was a healthy dose of arousal and vertigo. The two… didn't play well together.

One moment he was struggling to adjust to his changing height, the next he was adjusting the stirring in his groin whenever Rhom was out of sight. The sensations were incredibly awkward when paired together, especially when walking next to the wolf. A part of him kept questioning if the wolf had always been at his eye level, and another was wondering why he kept stumbling closer to the wolf. Regardless of what the corruption was doing to his body, it was clear to Eoin that he was changing.

This 'occupation' of Eoin's had helped give him time to focus on things beyond the hellfire teaming within him. The flush warmth only really nagged at the writer during moments of self reflection like this. Eoin bit his lip as he realized the truth in what he just said, absently reaching down and tugging at his borrowed pants. They weren't nearly as loose as they were yesterday, and Eoin was worried they might not last the rest of the week at this rate.

“You okay?" A voice called out towards Eoin. The out-of-breath man looked up to see Rhom pacing towards him, footpaws deliberately kicking up snow with each step. “Did you dip your foot in on purpose?"

“What? No. No." Eoin panted, waving a hand dismissively at Rhom. “I… Just wasn't paying attention."

“Well, pay more attention. I don't want to go fishing you out of the water again." Rhom grunted, extending a bandaged hand out towards Eoin.

Eoin winced as he took the hand, suddenly realizing just how much pain Rhom must have gone through to hoist him out of the water. Eoin straightened upright as Rhom tugged, the wolf leading Eoin back towards their campsite further away from the shore. The writer absent-mindedly squeezed Rhom's hand tightly, frowning as he searched for the words he'd been preparing all day. Those bandages looked fresh as well. Was submerging one's arms in that much salt water enough to cause scarring? What if it'd gone so far as to start the petrification process. The writer shuttered, not willing to sit on that thought for long.

“S-Soer." Eoin choked out, the apology choking in his throat as he realized he was still holding the wolf's paw. He let go quickly, adjusting his pants as stealthily as he could beside the wolf. “I-I mean… Nevermind."

Eoin looked away as he trudged alongside the scout. His body felt heavy from the long day of walking, and judging by Rhom's hunched shoulders the wolf was similarly fatigued. The snow crunching beneath his hooves almost felt natural after the long back and forth across the shoreline. Eoin had slipped on the ice four times that day, but he wasn't about to ask Rhom if he had seen any of his floundering.

“The corruption will hide things from you, you know." Rhom said, glancing to the man beside him.

Eoin frowned at the rather… esoteric comment. He opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't find anything to say. He turned his eyes away from the wolf's, walking along in silence.

“It, uh… It doesn't like you to notice it, doing its thing, until it feels like its got a good hold on you. Though Victus would get mad at me saying 'it', mostly because 'it' doesn't really have a will of its own. Corruption is kind of mindless, in that sense." Rhom continued, scratching at the back of his head as he took a deep breath. “Me and the corruption have always seen kind of eye and eye, though, so I'm mostly just parroting what others have said about their own experience to you."

“O-Okay?" Eoin frowned, wondering where this moment had come from.

“Basically," Rhom began, drawing a long breath of air as he glanced at Eoin. “You might start becoming aware of some of your more… demony… urges, if you understand."

Eoin squinted in confusion.

“... No, I don't think I do." Eoin said, frowning as he looked at Rhom. “Are you talking about when I start growing horns?"

“No. I'm, uh… I'm talking about the fact that you're r-rubbing yourself." Rhom stumbled over his words, his eyes refusing to meet Eoin's. “B-But that's normal for most demons! Especially when they're first starting out. It's actually taken you a lot longer than expected!"

Eoin blinked, looking down at his groin to find his palm pressed against his bulge. He quickly pulled his hand away, the warmth of hellfire clinging to his palm as if in reminder of the pleasure it could be bringing him. A surge of embarrassment washed over the writer as he wracked his brain for an apology.

“Uh. It. I…" Eoin fumbled, eyes trained on the sensation in his loins.

“You can go take care of it. If you need to." Rhom offered, gesturing to the encroaching tree line in front of them. “Or, if you'd like, I can always be of service."

“W-What?!" Eoin blurted out, taking a step away from Rhom on shaky legs. “That's a joke, r-right?"

“Kind of. I mean, I won't lie to you. You still reek like a human, so I'd probably just make it quick." Rhom shrugged, looking down at the human's furred legs and hooves as he spoke. “Although, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in discovering how far that corruption of yours has traveled."

“No!" Eoin quickly replied, shaking his head firmly. “No thank you!"

Rhom just kind of stood there, staring blankly at him. The wolf's stern gaze held on Eoin, as if taken aback by the refusal. The rejection tugged at him, his blood suddenly pumping for no discernible reason.

“Wow…" Rhom muttered at last, before shaking his head. “Just… Wow! I've just, never met a demon who turned down an offer like that before."

“W-Well I'm not a demon." Eoin stated firmly, eyes locked on Rhom's. He wasn't entirely comfortable beneath that steely gaze. “And it's not like I wouldn't, uh, like to either. I just… I'm not sure I'm prepared for it to spread farther."

Rhom's eyes widened as the words left Eoin's lips. It was his turn to stagger backwards, a look of confusion flashing across his face. Most of the demon's he had met had already been consumed by hellfire. The smell of human on them, sure, but it was a residual type of scent. The wolf seemed to have gone this far without meeting a human who was choosing not to give in, and the emotions that quickly roiled within Rhom were foreign.

“You… don't? Want it to spread? Why…" Rhom paused, before letting out a single scoff. It wasn't just confusion that he was feeling. No, it was something much stronger. All this time, Rhom had assumed that he was different than other demons. That he hadn't the same needs as the rest of him.

And yet, when Eoin had said that he didn't want the corruption, a powerful need welled up within the wolf.

“You're… you're going to succumb eventually, you know that right?" Rhom asked, taking a bold step towards Eoin. The wolf knew that the question wasn't entirely directed at the hooved human in front of him. “I mean, you can just wait for the corruption to take you fully, but I don't see the harm in just… Giving in."

“M-Maybe so, but it's still a lot to take in at once." Eoin said, watching the wolf with a cautious eye. In a matter of minutes, the scout in front of him had completely changed. There was a hunger in the wolf's eye, an opportunistic gleam that Eoin had written about many times in the past.

… Maybe Eoin's writing had been closer to the truth than he'd first assumed.

“I think I'll wait." Eoin blurted out after a moment's pause. “E-Eventually, I'll change. And then I'll… take you up. On that o-offer. Maybe when I stop smelling like… gross human smells, yeah?"

The wolf took another step forward. His eyes were wide, vision fixated on the human in front of him. His shoulders hunched further forward with each step, until he was directly in front of Eoin. He brought his muzzle down, and gently sniffed at the air beside Eoin's ear.

“Now that I think about it… you don't reek too bad." Rhom said, his voice a low growl. He reached a paw out towards Eoin's waist, his own heart racing as the want became a need. “If you want, I-"

Rhom blinked as his hand was halted. The wolf looked down to find Eoin's hand grabbing at his by the wrist.

“Rhom." Eoin spoke the name sternly, surprising even himself. “I promise. Maybe not today. But… Someday."

The wolf stood perfectly still. No demon had ever stopped him before. But… Eoin was human. Rhom's ears swiveled back and forth as he tried to process this, both shuffling awkwardly as they stood in the snow.

“A-Alright?" Rhom said, shaking his head as he stepped away from the man in front of him. “I'll make camp, and then we can talk about tomorrow's plans. You can go, uh… T-Take care of that."

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, Seaside Treeline

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Seventeenth evening.

The fire crackled, offering light to the two lone scouts. Eoin sat on a log next to Rhom, the two eating their foul pellets in silence.

“So what'd you write." Rhom asked at last, pulling out a flask of murky water. “You were a prisoner, right? I assume it's why you're here now."

Eoin glanced up from his hooves, blinking in confusion at the line of questioning.

“Something bad, huh?" Rhom pressed, wiping his lips of the tainted water. “I bet it was real bad."

“Pornography. Well. No, that's not quite right. Porn about demons and… uh… humans." Eoin said quietly, clasping his hands together as he waited for Rhom to laugh.

“Oh, so you're a demon-fucker then, huh? Not too often we get someone who comes here willingly." Rhom said, pausing to sniff at the lip of his flask. “I mean-"

“It wasn't about the porn though." Eoin said, speaking up. “I think I was… Trying to send a message. Like, an angry letter. To everyone. I hoped that's why everyone liked it."

“But..?" Rhom asked, waiting for Eoin to continue.

“I don't know." The writer huffed in frustration. “I think I thought I was fighting back, or something. You know they burn all the copies of books written by those corrupted? Eve Miltha? Grady Pollen? And now they're going to start burning My Avarice too. I thought maybe I'd be able to reach one of-"

“Wait." Rhom interrupted, flask going limp in his hand. “My Avarice? You wrote My Avarice?"

“Oh no." Eoin whispered to himself, staring at the startled wolf beside him. “N-No. I. That was someone else. And, wait, how do you even know about that book?"

“Victus has a copy of it. Back at the Keep's library. He recommended it to me, for uh, o-other reasons." Rhom explained, ears flicking as he turned back towards the fire.

A pervading silence filled the campfire. Eoin fidgeted about as he tried to find a comfortable way to rest his hooves. His soreness offered little aid.

“Are you sure that wasn't you?" Rhom asked. “It was definitely brooding enough to be you. I didn't think it was porn. But then again, I'm a demon. Touching dicks is like shaking hands around here."

“Let's just stop talking about this." Eoin stammered, still reeling from the fact that a Prince had read his book. Since when would this Victus even have the time to read his trash?

“Suit yourself, author." The wolf shrugged, raising his hands up high as he stretched out beneath the stars. “I for one thought it was a good read."

…

“A bit corny, but-"

“Shut it." Eoin huffed, shaking his head in dismay.

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, Communal Baths

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Eighteenth morning.

“Lets see… Keeper's visiting in just a moment. I've got to double check the prophecies. What else… what else…"

Victus slowly rose from the corrupted bath, his shoulders hunched as he mentally ran through his itinerary one last time.

“Something to do…. with… Rhom." The Prince of Heed muttered to himself, fur laden with water as he stepped out of the bath. Ripples lapped at the sides of the massive pool, the Prince's sturdy hooves echoing against wet tile. “Something to do with…"

Victus reached for a towel and began the long process of drying himself off. The massive stag snorted as he shook his head, bare antlers still dripping with black water. The hellbeast's muscles bulged as he began to dab the towel against his neck scruff. What had he just been thinking about?

The double doors at the far end of the large bathhouse opened up behind Victus, the bare elk turning to greet whoever was about to join him. His smile only grew as he realized who the silhouette belonged to.

“Keeper!" The Prince of Heed exclaimed heartily, opening a free arm out in a gesture of warmth. “How nice of you to join me."

The lean and scaled body striding across the corrupted tiles had their arms crossed in front of them. The snake wore colorful clothes around their hips, scaled thighs sliding against one another with each step. The snake kept its glare fixated on the Prince. Red scales glinted in the dim light, rings and trinkets made of scald adorning his upper body.

“You were sssssupposed to meet me in your throne room. Not in your bath." The snake hissed, his tongue getting the better of him as his temper flared. “You know I'm not one for tardinessss."

“Calm your hissing, friend. You're here now." The naked Prince began, running his towel across form. “And we've plenty to discuss."

“Of prophecies?" Keeper asked, scaled brow raising inquisitively.

“And visions. The Unforeseen has been rather generous of late, if demanding of my time." The Prince continued, dropping the towel to dry off his groin. “I'm afraid this might be the last time we speak until the Waning is over. If I go under again I I might be lost to the waking world until the snow melts."

“You're pushing yourself too far." Keeper tutted, shaking his head in disapproval at his Prince. “You've taken on too many prophecies at once. I can understand trading with Yield, but Clarity? He doesn't need your aid."

“He knows not to push me for more than I'm willing to give. A single prophecy a year is as much as I'm willing to give Lattis. It only makes sense to give the demon what he wants during a waning, when I'm down longest." The Prince droned on. This was the fourth time he'd repeated these words to an advisor, but Victus was unwilling to give Lattis the fear he so desperately seemed to crave.

“Still, my Prince. If there's anyone we could do without, it's him." Keeper began, catching the look of disinterest on Victus' face. “B-But now's not the time for such a conversation. We were discussing your visions, no?"

“Indeed." The Prince rumbled, dropping his towel to the floor unceremoniously. He gave his body one last shake before moving over to the countertop, where his trinkets and baubles had been laid out in practiced order. Victims could hear Keeper tutting once more behind him as the snake picked up his towel.

“Honesssstly." Keeper muttered, folding the towel properly before setting it down on the counter. “The Weavers work very hard on these."

“Visions." The Prince stated once more, gently tying a bauble to his antler as he tried to keep the conversation moving. “They speak of isolation. Broad. Vague. But I also received word from Pevlan up the mountain pass. We have unexpected visitors. Three of them, from Vim's domain."

“From the mountain pass?" Keeper asked, rather intrigued. “No doubt trying to stay out of sight. Why take the long route to us? You don't think-"

“-That they're trying to setup a Mirror?" The Prince finished the serpent's question, taking a moment to let out a frustrated sigh. “Why yes, I do Keeper. Vim has been itching for a fight, and the keep's got one of his favorite thrall's locked up."

“Then we'd best mobilize at once!" Keeper huffed, watching as Victus slowly secured the last of his trinkets atop his antlers. “You must go down there yourself, my Prince. I'd rather not have Vim making these winter's harder on us."

“I can't go down yet, Keeper." Victus said with a sigh, trinkets clinking atop his head as he turned towards the serpent. “The waning. The prophecies. Lattis, and the other deals. They take precedent over this. After the waning, we can dismantle this. Our warden across the way has already made the pass inaccessible. They'll no doubt go about a different method."

“You're working under presumptions, Victussss!" Keeper hissed, opening his hands out towards his Prince. “Please, at least consider keeping a closer eye on the border. That warden already hatesss you enough as it is."

“I know." Victus said, turning away from the serpent. The naked elk slowly made his way towards the doors leading out of the bath house, gesturing for the snake to follow him. “And believe me, I'd rather keep our land quiet for as long as possible. But stability comes first, Keeper. And I need to make sure these trades go through. The waning has been hard enough on my thralls."

Keeper frowned as he followed after his Prince, hands nervously clasped together as he kept his eyes trained respectfully below the elk's waist. The burly elk strolled through the halls of his keep with a measured pace, something which Keeper had always admired. He'd yet to see the elk run, or panic. The Prince of Heed always seemed prepared, somewhat due to his calm and steady stride.

“Alright, Victus. I'm trusssting you on this one. No doubt you're probably sick of me saying such things." Keeper said with a sigh. “You're my Prince, and I ought to stop second guessing you at every-"

“Keeper." Victus stated, coming to a stop at the heavy doorway to his 'throne'. “You're an advisor of mine because I respect your voice. It's your mind that I value so greatly. So please…"

The elk gently lifted a hand as he paused, bringing a clawed finger to graze along the snake's muzzle. The Prince of Heed smiled warmly at his thrall before leaning in and kissing him on the lips. The snake quickly perked up at the attention, hellfire brimming between the two as they held the brief exchange.

“Don't hesitate to speak up." Victus spoke, his voice barely a whisper as he held the naga close.

“Then I'd like to request some time of yours." Keeper stated quickly. “I'd like to lay with you, before I leave for my post. If it's not too much of a-"

“Keeper." Victus interrupted once more, the serpent quickly snapping his maw shut.

“You may wait for me in the communal bedchambers." The Prince of Heed rumbled, cradling the snake's head in one hand. “I've got one more meeting before I can give you my... full attention."

“Another?" Keeper asked, somewhat puzzled. “But… I thought I was the last of your advisors you'd scheduled to meet with?"

S E V E N -

In Which A Prince Tests The Fool's Resolve

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, The Prince of Heed's Quarters

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Eighteenth afternoon.

Eoin stood in front of the tall doorway, tugging awkwardly at his ill-fitted clothes. Fabric strained against the writer's body in protest, his hands doing their best to make sure he was as presentable as possible before facing this 'Victus' person. Where once the writer had been embarrassed by his mismatched clothing, he now found himself doubly so. His tunic could no longer be buttoned without choking him, and his pants seemed to audibly pop at their seams every now and again. The writer was far from ready to begin galavanting around completely naked. He'd seen a few hellbeasts about on his journey over here, and some of them had clothing that looked far more presentable than this. He'd checked to see his 'progress' quite a few times now, his thighs entirely covered in a coat of soft black fur. It didn't make walking any easier, and the wet spot around his bulge had become a constant problem ever since Rhom first gave the writer permission to 'take care of himself'. Three times today, in fact. Soon to be a fourth, at this rate. Each time, Eoin had made sure never to fully strip naked. For whatever reason, this clothing felt like his last line of protection from the hellfire around him. He knew that wasn't true. Even these clothes clung with hellfire, and yet the writer couldn't shake a sinking feeling, like if he took it all off, he'd never be able to put it back on again.

Eoin shook his head of such thoughts, stumbling atop his shiny hooves as he readied himself to enter the Prince of Heed's chambers. Sure, he was a straining mess of conflicting desires, but that was no excuse for tardiness. Victus was no doubt already waiting for him, Eoin's hesitation probably robbing the Prince of his precious time. The writer gave one last awkward tug at his clothing before stepping forward, pushing open the heavy doors before him with surprising ease.

Victus had indeed been waiting for him, the massive elk slowly looking up from one of his many reports. The Prince of Heed smiled gently as he watched the half-corrupted man step inside. The tiniest nubs of horns had begun to push out from the writer's head, his hooves clacking loudly atop the polished floor. The hellfire had indeed taken root inside the human, yet Victus was pleasantly surprised to see such resistance from the man. There was restraint, something which most humans lost within their first few minutes of exposure.

“How long has it been now?" Victus spoke at last, watching Eoin come to a stop in front of him. “Two days? Three?"

“Has it really only been three?" Eoin gawked, eyes widening as he replayed the events of the last few days in his head. “It's felt like ages."

“You've yet to begin grasping at such a concept, Eoin." The Prince of Heed explained, trinkets swaying as he idly shook his head. “I'm sure you'll find your bearings. All in due time."

Eoin nodded, not knowing what else to say to the ten foot tall elk. He did his best to keep his eyes away from the rather prominent groin displayed between the stag's spread legs, choosing to keep his eyes on the strange baubles and glinting objects swinging from his antlers.

“I hear you've been helping out Rhom." Victus spoke at last, breaking the silence as he idly shifted in his seat. “How does such a job treat you?"

“I'm terrible at it. Rhom has so much strength, and all I do is take a bit of scald back to the ocean. All he has to do is launch the stuff with his fancy magic. Rhom told me I'd get some nifty power of my own, but I haven't seen it yet. Also, I was under the impression that everything corruption touched turn to stone, but my clothes seem relatively fine. If that's the case, then..." Eoin trailed on, only stopping once he saw the strange look plastered to the elk's face. Contemplative, yet somehow disappointed.

“Er, did I say something wrong?" Eoin asked, shying away from the Prince.

“Was it a hard choice? Coming over here?" The Prince asked, brow raised inquisitively as he spoke. “What's your impression of my land, Eoin."

“My impression? I'd say there wasn't much of choice left. Coming over here seemed like a much better offer than staying over there." Eoin shrugged, hiking a thumb over his shoulder. “Back there? I would have been locked up forever. Over here I'm a free man. Or… Demon. Whatever you want to call it."

The Prince's ear flicked about in annoyance, the elk silent atop his throne.

“So… It was what I said?" Eoin pressed, the elk breaking his silence to let out a huff of frustration in response.

“I fear your reasoning, Eoin. This land is far less 'free' than you imagine it being, though I've done my best to give you one of the kindest demon's of my ranks." Victus began, gesturing broadly at the half-human before him. “But I can't berate someone as wide-eyed as yourself over thinking this place is some paradise. It's not your fault for assuming it to be, though you aren't exactly immune from being the problem."

Eoin's expressing slowly soured as he kept his eyes off of the elk in front of him. He didn't know how to respond to such direct confrontation. Most of the times, his meekness had allowed him to slip past the majority of dialogues with others.

“Yet here you are. Shoulders hunched. Not even able to look me in the eyes. I'm surprised, Eoin. I thought the author of My Avarice would have presented himself better."

Eoin flinched at the mention of the book that had brought him here. How long had Victus known who he was? Had that book been the only reason he'd brought him here? Writing that had been a mistake.

“A human author, preaching about love between human and demon? It must have been a slap in the face to any Paladin that read it; your own personalized letter of rejection to society. And when I finally got to meet the man responsible for this book, what do I find?" Victus continued, leaning forward in his chair as he paused. “A man resigned to 'fate'; a man who is contempt to wallow in a cell for the rest of his life, just as much as he is ready to spring forth across a barrier."

“That's not true." Eoin muttered under his breath, brow slowly furrowing as he listened to Victus' words. Hasn't the Prince been the voice telling him to come over? The stag's words weren't just irritating… They stung.

“Then what is the truth?" Victus pressed, stomping his hoof against the polished corruption below. “Tell me, Eoin. Who are you? A coward, hiding behind big words? Or an author?"

“Victus, I-" Eoin began, finally tearing his gaze away from the floor to look the Prince of Heed in the eyes. “I'm shaken!"

The elk's expression softened as he relaxed back into his seat, massive chest exhaling as he nodded at Eoin.

“I'm… Confused." Eoin admitted to himself, taking a step forward as he spoke. “I'd say it was the dynamite, but it happened far before that. When that Paladin took my printing press from me, I fought back. But then he overpowered me so simply, and dragged me to prison, and now all my work feels so… so…"

“Empty." Victus began, as if offering the word. “Did 'they' take it from you? Is it really gone, Eoin? Funny how a little pressure exerted upon you, a bit of force, can knock the ground out from beneath a man."

“I'm… Just a thief. I read the books of greats and copied them for money. My Avarice was built on the backs of giants much greater than a peddler like myself." Eoin muttered, head reeling as he finally allowed himself to speak these words aloud. “I was just trying to get by. Any passion I had was misguided. Foolish. I-"

“Eoin." The Prince of Heed stated. “If pity was a currency you'd be a counterfeit press."

The writer scoffed at that, something strange boiling up within him. Anger. At himself? Or at the Prince in front of him?

“What do you know, anyways?" Eoin huffed, cheeks flush with embarrassment as he realized just how childish the phrase had sounded.

“What do I know?" The Prince just snorted at that, an irate look settling into his expression. “Temptress, Of Eyes Gone North, The Ires Of All To Be. I quote: And when time comes and thou must be off, the sullen shall not mourn me. For if I fall from grace you'll scoff…"

“... a villain, thee shalt scorn me." Eoin blinked. How many times had he written this same passage? Temptress? Ires? Their pages had been burned into his memory, each text belonging to the very same author...

“Y-Yorwick?" The younger author sputtered. No. It couldn't be, and yet the great demon before him might certainly have been. If the greats had been banished here, then this Prince most certainly could still be him. Eoin gawked at the ageless demon before him, jaw slung. “I… I didn't-"

“Mean to offend? My Avarice was a delightful read, but I hardly think it's the last you'll write." Victus huffed as he settled back into his seat. “Once you've settled into place here and learned to broaden your horizons, I might consider talking with you more on this subject matter."

“But…" Eoin fumbled, staring blankly at the massive elk's form.

“You'll leave promptly. Take this letter. Head back to Rhom. Stop making excuses as to why you can't, and start looking for ways you can. Corrupt a bit more. Fill out. Lose the clothes. And by the time the waning ends I'll be awake once more. We can talk then, Eoin. Maybe by that time you'll have realized what the consequences of your actions truly equates to. Now off with you. I look forward to seeing how much you've grown." Victus stated, scratching behind an ear as he made an effort to press his back against the throne.

“I… uh…" The writer continued, glancing left and right in confusion. The large elk reached to his side, clawed hand sifting through his paperwork before tossing an envelope onto the ground in front of Eoin.

“This is the part where you thank me, take that letter to Rhom, and be on your way." Victus mused, resting comfortably atop his throne.

“Oh. O-Okay. Uh." Eoin scrabbled for the parchment, surprised to find that even the parchment in this land seemed to radiate hellfire. The author paused for a moment as he wondered if it's corruption had seeped into the parchment due to the powerful demon next to it before quickly shaking his head of the distracting thoughts. “T-Thank you."

“And one last thing, author." Victus spoke, raising a hand into the air. Eoin paused mid-step, turning his attention back to the Prince before him.

“I'm not sure anyone's told you this yet, but if you see a fox. Any fox at all. Don't talk to them." Victus warned. “Don't say a single world in their presence. Isolation. Burn the word into your head. The other Prince's are of no concern to you."

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, Seaside Treeline

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Eighteenth evening.

“A fox? You mean Lattis?" Rhom asked, looking up from the letter. “Yeah, Victus is right. You should never talk to him. They say if you speak a word to him, then he's got some sort of power over you. I think all of his thralls are entranced like that. It's what his magic does, I guess. Which is obviously why the Prince tries to keep us out of Clarity's domain. He's bad news."

“Oh." Eoin said, blinking in surprise. The two of them sat on opposite ends of their usual campsite, doing their best to relax before the sun completely sets over the horizon.

“There are other Prince's, right?" The writer asked, tucking his knees into his chest as he turned to face the glittering sea. The barrier loomed in the distance, the ice having somewhat settled after its shattering. Black snow twinkled above the shore, the cold weather of the waning offering a brief respite from the seemingly constant snowfall.

“Well, there's one for each domain. Each are in charge of different things. We're water, and the arts. Clothing and whatnot. That's Heed's domain." Rhom explained, gently ripping up the letters in his hand as he spoke. “Then there's Clarity. He's the special case, mostly focused on infiltration. Yield and Clarity are both our neighbors, but the Prince of Yield is awfully nice. They're in charge of food and festivities, and together we make sure the rest of the domain is fed and happy."

Rhom dug his paws into the black snow as he settled back against his bedding, yawning as he tossed the bundle of torn paper into the pit between them.

“Light that for me, will ya?" Rhom asked, gesturing with a footpaw towards the kindling. “Like how I showed you."

“What about the other domains?" Eoin pressed, sitting upright before falling over onto his hands and knees. He reached for the stored embers as he looked up at Rhom, doing his best not to stare too hard as he watched the wolf undress. “Surely it's not just the three."

“Well. There are definitely more, but they're not the kinds of places you ought to fill your head with. There's the King's Domain, the farthest away from the barrier. Lattis more or less rules over that domain, too. Word is the King's been slumbering, ever since he attacked the Paladin's head-on a few years ago. The King does that a lot. Sleeping, I mean. Though he does do his fair share of attacking, inbetween." Rhom huffed, wiggling out of his pants as he spoke. “Then there's Vim. Their Prince is hungry for war. Always has been, really, no matter who wears the title. It's a domain filled with brawling and tournaments, and it's the type of place I don't recommend you go to any time soon. Not until you learn how to take a punch, or take a dick."

Eoin opened his mouth to speak before realizing that he was only halfway through enkindling the pit in front of him. He bent back down, gently blowing air across the embers in an attempt to help the heat spread.

“Then there's Ash and Vaunt, but they don't really get around much. Both tend to stick to their corners, more or less." Rhom continued, stepping out of the last of his clothes. The naked wolf stretched in front of Eoin, whose embers had quickly began to spread across the paper. Soon enough, Eoin was gently feeding corrupted logs into the fire.

“It's strange. Most-everything looks like stone here, except fires are still fires." Eoin began, poking and prodding at the campfire with a stick. “Everything looks petrified, and that's how all the books described it, yet… Things are more or less the same. Just, a little different. I tried asking Victus, but he got all uppity with me."

“Yeah?" Rhom grunted, muscles tensing as he continued to lean from side to side. “That's corruption for you, I guess. When it gets in things, it changes it forever. Sometimes for the better. Sometimes for the worse. Ash's domain is the one that's focused on understanding how all this stuff changes things. Victus is a lot more worried about losing his shores to scald, and to be honest, most of the people that serve under Victus just want to be left alone."

“There are more demons?" Eoin asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the corrupt warmth of the fire. “I thought-"

The rest of the writer's words dribbled out his mouth as he openly gawked at Rhom. He had been to focused on the task at hand to give the wolf much mind, but now with the warmth of the fire secured the writer was having a hard time tearing his eyes away.

Rhom gently sat back down in his usual spot, muscles gently relaxing as he pressed back against the fallen log behind him. Legs spread, sheathe plump, the wolf idly scratched at his bare thigh. It'd been getting more difficult to keep the corruption at bay, Eoin's own groin going flush with need in a matter of seconds. How many times had he 'taken care of himself' today? The writer blushed as he pressed a hand down against his arousal, mentally chastising himself for his lack of restraint.

It was the corruption. That's all. Just some pesky magic trying to invade his system. Eoin knew it was trying to make him drop his guard, and gosh, the desire was tempting at times. How much easier would his job be if he succumbed? How nice would it be to crawl up beside Rhom and end this shameful display of his? The fire in front of Eoin wasn't helping, open flames emanating corruption within the very heat that brushed across him. How long had it been since he'd grown numb to the cold, his lower half now covered in soft fur. The rest of his body could be just as soft, if he just… Gave in….

“You okay there, Eoin?" Rhom asked casually, reaching for his pack to pluck out some more of that miserable food. “You look like it's really getting to you."

“Y-Yeah." The writer nodded, surprised to find his own body shaking with desire. “I can hold it back t-though."

“Really?" The wolf huffed, not bothering to hide the doubt in his voice. “You remember before, how you asked me if you could have been a paladin? I'm pretty sure you could have, what with this level of resolve."

“Hahhh." Eoin trembled, squeezing openly at the bulge in his pants. He could feel the seams of his shirt slowly ripping, shoulders hunching forward as he kneaded at the source of his pleasure. “Guess I should have… V-Volunteered, huh? M-Maybe Tan would've g-gone a lot easier on me."

“What I'm trying to say, is that you shouldn't feel bad about giving in. I've yet to see someone last this long before. You know most guys would already be humping me before their first hour on corrupted soil is up?" The wolf continued, stuffing his fingers into his feed pouch for more pellets.

“B-But… I'm not. I don't." The changing male mumbled, hooves sliding against one another as he spoke. “I-I don't understand! You're always so calm a-and collected. You say everyone's always so open, b-but you've yet to even… We haven't… Even…"

Rhom raised a brow, head tilting slightly to the side. Slowly, the wolf set his food down, eyes studying Eoin under a new light. He'd grown accustomed to having the human around, but the man in front of him was now quite different than the one he'd plucked out of the water. The horns that pushed from Eoin's head had widened considerably, big tufts of fur now sprouting from the rips in his clothing. With each laboured breath, the writers nostrils continued to flare. His face had begun distorted as well, shadows stretching longer across his shifted jaw. The man's body hair was getting more matted with each passing day, and soon… Eoin would be a demon. Rhom wondered to himself if the human was asking for his permission. That didn't seem right to the wolf.

“Eoin." Rhom began, looking into the writer's glassy eyes. “You told me you didn't want to until after you'd changed. Right?"

The writer bit his lip harder as he stared at Rhom. The wolf had been so nice to him so far. A-And how did he thank the man? By doing nothing! Eoin's heart leapt as he noticed that the bandages were no longer wrapped around the wolf's arms. H-Had he ever even apologized for that? Or shown gratitude? And now he was trying to… To… Ungrateful… U-Ungrateful!

Eoin quickly pulled himself upright as he stumbled away from camp. He knew he had to calm down, but he couldn't bring himself to do it in front of Rhom. Shame wracked through Eoin as he mumbled out an excuse for leaving, cheeks flush with embarrassment. Both of them knew what the writer was stumbling away to do. Why hide it?

Eoin took a haggard breath as he trudged off alone.

“A fool." Eoin spat. “That's all I am. A damned f-fool."

E I G H T -

In Which The Prince Slumbers On

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, Treeline Alongside the Barrier

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Nineteenth morning.

“And then he ran off." Rhom said to himself, shrugging as he trudged through the treeline. “Sure, he returned, but I felt a bit of doubt there for a second, like I should have done something."

You did plenty. Even you are prone to impulses, especially around one so vulnerable. You did well to stomach them.

“Somehow I'm not so sure about that, Victus." Rhom frowned. “He didn't say a word to me this morning. I doubt he'll get any work done, either."

I don't think it's his work ethic that has you bothered right now. Speak your mind with me, Rhom. You know how I feel about holding back.

“It's just. He wants it. But he won't act on it! No one's ever done that to me before, Victus! It's always 'bend over', or 'make it quick'. I get not having enough time, but he was shaking in front of me." Rhom grumbled as he adjusted his loins, the wolf's footpaws trudging over a fallen log as he peered out beyond the silent treeline once more. “When you said 'wait for them to start reveling', I always assumed you meant an hour or two. When they don't, it's…"

Frustrating?

“Yes!" Rhom snorted, raising his hands into the air. “What's with that?!"

You're not as immune to spreading the corruption as you think. The desire burns within each of us. But true power does not come from taking this moment from him. He must work this out himself, if he is to ever be the man we need him to be.

“Well, sorry, but that's dumb." The wolf spat, dropping down a small incline as he crouched lower to the ground. The trees were thinning out ahead, and Rhom didn't want to lose what little cover had been provided to him. “I needed help clearing scald. A demon. Maybe Tul or Braast. Not a half formed demon who can hardly clear a tenth of my work."

Lower your voice, Rhom. If they are out here, you musn't startle them.

“Don't you have other people to be talking to?" Rhom muttered, sidling his way through the snow as he glanced towards the dense forest beside him. “What about Keeper, hm? He's always good for conversation."

Keeper isn't the one risking his hide right now. Besides, you know I don't have full control over where I go. The Unforeseen is fickle like that.

“You know you spend more time asleep than you do awake nowadays, right? All that Unforeseen talk is the same stuff that's got you trapped in bed for the rest of the waning. Maybe it's time-" The wolf squinted as he spoke, catching sight of something glinting in the distance. Rhom crouched down even lower as he prowled forwards, arms padding against the slope in front of him. Ears flat, the scout peered out towards the denser woods in front of him.

A mirror, no doubt about it. The polished stone had been freshly made, its surface stretching wide across the small opening in the woods. Someone had recently erected the stone, though Rhom saw no signs of the demons responsible. It'd yet to have been used, as the lack of hellfire pouring out of the mirror was negligible to that held within the snow surrounding it. The wolf reached for the hammer at his side as he continued to scan his surroundings.

As I'd feared. Vim's men must have come through Yield's routes to avoid my guards. Isolation… How could I have been so foolish. It was a warning.

“You don't think Vim's going to try anything stupid, do you?" Rhom whispered, ears twitching atop his head as he slowly slinked towards the mirror. Erecting a mirror of this size would take two or three common demons at least, though its dormant state meant the group had not evacuated through to the other side.

Assuming he wouldn't is reckless. Dispose of the mirror now, before-

The mirror in front of Rhom suddenly flashed with bright light. Rhom squinted as he caught a glimpse of the mirror's reflection. Clear skies were all Rhom could make out, though the imposing figure standing in its center quickly caused Rhom to draw his weapon. The wolf pointed his polished scald towards the mirror as he glared at the silhouette standing at its center. Looming above the wolf. Curved horns. Broad shoulders. The bull slowly turned to face the scout opposing him.

What are you doing, Rhom? Hide!

The large bull held a heavy axe in both hands. The male's grip tightened as he let out a snort, the fighter slowly trudging blankly towards Rhom. The wolf glared at the massive man as he took a cautious step away, heart racing in his chest as he kept his eyes locked on the opponent. Something was strange about the bull, but Rhom couldn't quite place it. The look in the bovine's eyes was blank. Strangely… Hollow.

“What are you doing here? On the Prince of Heed's orders, I demand you tell me who you follow." Rhom glared, taking another careful step backwards.

A snort was all Rhom received, corruption rolling off the mirror in great waves. The beast was strong, yet somehow… Restrained. Rhom slowly began to step to the side in an attempt to circle the bull. He had to get closer to the mirror. This was his best chance to destroy it, before even more demons filtered through. Was this an assault on the barrier? Some type of planned attack? Regardless, the bull's lips seemed sealed shut.

Rhom. I'm fading. Wherever the Unforeseen takes me next, I'll ask for aid. Do not fight him. He is stronger than you. Do you hear me? Do not…

Rhom shook his head as the voice in his head dissipated. The bull was idly testing the hefty axe, scalded blade flashing as he turned it about in his leathery grip. The warrior wore no clothes, proud chest exposed to the waning air. Well groomed. Dead eyed. Dangerous.

Rhom acted quickly, dropping down low to the ground with one palm flat against the forest floor. The snow beneath Rhom erupted suddenly, the wolf propelling himself forward in the blink of an eye. The bull turned sharply to follow Rhom's motion over him, the wolf sweeping past. Rhom kicked at the air as he reoriented himself, sending another burst of snow into the air as he broke the speed of his fall. Sliding to a halt on the other side of the mirror, Rhom watched as the bull trudged across the reflective surface towards him. The wolf needed to break the mirror, and fast. Branches. Trees. No, too far away. He could throw his blade, but then he'd be defenseless.

Rhom bared his fangs as he snarled, lifting his hand into the air as he turned his gaze onto the bull in front of him. The dead trees around Rhom shuddered and creaked as the snow around the mirror rushed over it. The black snow crashed around the bull from all sides, the massive warrior stumbling for only a moment.

The window was all Rhom needed. Panting in anticipation of the exertion, Rhom clutched his hand around the air in front of him and yanked down. The bull's eyes widened as his arms were suddenly tugged downwards, the heavy axe in his hands slamming down tremendous force. The snow that had half-buried the mirror went flying away, the mirror shuddering beneath the weight washing down over it. The bull's muscles bulged as his grip tightened, dropping to one knee as he let out a bellow of exertion. Rhom cursed as he realized the bull was overpowering him, releasing his grip on the axe's momentum. He could have sworn the snow would have been enough to catch the warrior off guard, yet the massive beast in front of him seemed unphased as it clambored back onto both hooves.

Rhom's mind raced as he scoured the land around him for alternatives. Stones. Rocks. None to be seen beneath the snow. He needed vision for his magic to work, and trajectories were hard from most angles. Cursing once more, Rhom gently stepped away from his opponent. The bull snorted in defiance, as if warning Rhom to back off. Still, the dull glaze in the bovine's eyes unnerved the wolf. Was the hellbeast not using magic out of respect? Or was he missing something…

The beast suddenly jerked forward, taking a large step towards Rhom. The wolf reacted quickly, pushing himself to the side as he took another leap. Thrown forward by the force of his own magic, Rhom readied himself to break the speed of his landing. Body twisting, the wolf turned in the air to face the opponent he was leaping past...

Only to see the back of the bull's axe swinging towards him.

CRACK!

Rhom slammed against the snow, tumbling about as he heard his hammer clatter against the mirror. The wolf's world was still spinning, even after he'd come to a stop. Hellfire coursed through his side, where the blunt side of the axe had connected. Ribs cracking as they snapped back into place, a familiar stiffness took the place of pain. A single hit, and his side had already been petrified. The wound must have been incredibly severe to his internals for it to have used so much magic. That, or Rhom had been getting rusty. What had he done wrong?

Rhom blinked, bleary eyed, as he tried to stand up once more. The beast was slowly strolling towards him, blank gaze locked on Rhom. He was going easy on him. The bull was better than him. He hadn't… expected such a reach out of the bull, and so quickly as well. Stumbling onto his feet, Rhom clutched at his side.

“Okay. Okay. I give up." Rhom lied, raising his other hand into the air. The wolf tucked his tail between his legs as he let out a whimper, making sure to keep his hammer in his line of sight as he turned towards the bull.

The warrior continued trudging towards him, something which the scout had hoped he wouldn't do. He could either run and recuperate, take his chances with the bull so close to him, or…

Rhom took a deep breath.

“You know, whoever you work for must be a real bastard." Rhom began, raising his one hand even higher. The hammer gently lifted up off the mirror as it dangled into the air, blunt end gently 'nudged' with Rhom's fingers until it was pointing down. “Victus doesn't want to fight. You know that, right? It's usually really calm and quiet here. I-I think you'd like it."

The bull didn't waver, as if deaf to Rhom's words. The wolf took a deep breath, and folded his ears back. If he put everything he had into this, he could at least buy Victus some time. The mirror… Took priority.

“Oh well." Rhom said weakly. “It was worth a shot."

Rhom brought his hand down sharply, mustering as much strength as he could into the force of his pull. At the exact same moment, the mirror let out another flash of light. Metal struck mirror as the bull brought the back of his axe down on Rhom. The wolf howled in pain as he was pressed into the ground, eyes straining as he turned his gaze back to the mirror in front of him. The mirror… Was broken. Hammer lodged within it, Rhom's brief moment of victory soured by the new figure that stood in its center. The flash of light… Someone had come through. The scout let out another whimper as he strained to move. His body felt so heavy and tired. Exhaustion was creeping down his spine, eyes fluttering open and closed as he tried to focus on the silhouette in front of him.

Orange fur. Wicked horns. A soft, bushy tail…

The fox slowly turned towards Rhom as the demon finished pulling on a pair of gloves. Flexing his hands, the spry looking fox flashed a smile at the scout.

“You know." The fox began, demonic claws tensing as he tugged at the end of his glove. “It doesn't take much to scry through a mirror. You know what they say, voyeur is my specialty. I feel like I must applaud you, though. It was quite a noble sacrifice."

The demon in front of him gave another smile as he reached out towards Rhom's hammer. The fox tugged at it, yanking it from the mirror with surprising ease. The hellbeast casually strolled towards Rhom as he inspected the blunt instrument, one claw sliding along its carefully crafted edge as he stepped over the shattered mirror.

“You know, that Prince of yours, Victus? He and I have been doing good business for quite some time. But alas, he's been shortchanging me. All that wealth stored up in one place? No wonder he doesn't want me in his land!" The fox laughed, the noise sharp and far too mirthful. “Oh well. All good will must eventually come to an end."

The fox tossed the hammer by Rhom's side before turning around to face the mirror. Kneeling, the hellbeast placed a slender hand atop the portal. Shuddering, the cracks in the mirror began to shift and slide about, the jagged edges slowly filling out in a matter of seconds. Standing once more, the powerful demon waved his gloved hand in the air.

“Wow." The fox winced, sucking at one of his fingers as he recollected himself. “You really put all of your magic into that, huh?"

Rhom's eyes tried to widen as he let out a weakened grunt. His whole body refused to move, darkness creeping into the corners of his vision. Eyes trained on the fox, he watched as the figure was painted with light. The mirror hummed with hellfire once more, a boar in warpaint trudging off the barrier behind him.

“I guess..." The Prince of Clarity shrugged in Rhom's direction, the mirror flashing to life over and over behind him. “If it makes you feel any better, you did just make me break a sweat."

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, Coastal Shore

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Nineteenth evening.

“Rhom did what?!" Eoin gasped, dropping the scald in his hands. The chunk of corrupted salt water landed with a thud at Eoin's hooves, the man's eyes quickly turning to peer out towards the barrier beside him.

Reinforcements are on their way, though they may take some time. Eoin, you must leave this place. I fear for Rhom, but-

“Where is he?" The writer interrupted, eyes darting across the horizon. “He said he was going into the forest to scout, right? Do you know where he went?"

Eoin. I advise you to retreat. Now.

The writer began to move, nodding as he listened to the Prince's words. The half-demon took a few steps before stopping in his tracks, eyes widening as he made out unfamiliar shapes at the edge of the forest.

Those are Vim's men. I fear they're preparing for an attack.

“But the ice… Tan blew up the ice." Eoin mumbled, brow furrowing as he counted the amount of hellbeasts that stood in the gathering. They sat hunched, hidden behind a small slope and a canopy of bare trees. The cliffside up the barrier wasn't steep where they lay, through the shimmering wall seemed perfectly intact. “How… Are they going to get through?"

A battering ram, of sorts. The waning should provide them cover. No doubt they'll attack once the sun sets.

Eoin glanced at the brilliant reds and oranges that filled the sky before turning his attention back to the corrupted treeline.

“When will your demons get here?" Eoin asked, fearing the answer. “You know… to stop them?"

It's hard to say. An hour, at the earliest.

“Is that going to be enough time? W-We should ask for more help. Maybe I-" The writer continued, suddenly all too aware of where he was standing. If he could see them… then there was no doubt in Eoin's mind that they could see him.

The writer slowly started moving away from the shore, heading towards the treeline that would take him back to camp. His hooves dug through black snow as he trudged along, eyes still locked on the camp.

“What about Tan? Maybe he could help?" Eoin asked, hunching over as he quickened his pace.

Tan is a… Stubborn man, Eoin. I hardly think he'd take the warnings of a demon.

“You don't know that." The writer said, slipping past the first of the bare trees. The man began to move faster, biting his lip as he heard the fabric of his pants tearing. The tattered rags were barely held together at this point, though Eoin couldn't bring himself to rip them off.

I do know that. In all the time I've ever known Tan, he has... yet… to listen to me.

“Okay. Okay." Eoin repeated, sensing the sadness in Victus' tone. “Uh, w-what if I told him?"

And how do you plan to do that?

Eoin swallowed as he stopped running. He turned his eyes towards the barrier looming above the trees and took a deep breath.

“They've… Got scouts of their own. I met one of them. If I made enough noise by the border, maybe I could get their attention." Eoin huffed, hairy palms clammy with nerves.

You will have to get past Vim's men, first.

“I can do that." Eoin mumbled, taking a hesitant step towards the barrier. “I'm… It's the least I can do."

Then you'd best make your way around the mirror, Eoin. I can tell you where it is, but I fear I might fade on to someone else by the time you reach the barrier.

“T-That's okay! I'm used to m-making stupid decisions alone." The writer huffed, reaching up to swipe at something soft that had just brushed against the side of his head. The fluff had been from his own ear, the writer's eyes widening as he squeezed at his swiveling ear. “J-Just tell me where I need to go."

N I N E -

In Which The Fool Sheds His Clothes

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, Treeline Alongside the Barrier

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Waning, Nineteenth evening.

Eoin gazed at the mirror from a distance as he watched it flash. Light after light erupted from the mirror, and each time, another demon stood atop it. Each donned a weapon of some kind. From axe to spear to sword and shield. These beasts were outfitted for war. Did they aim to take the keep? Eoin bit his lip as the hellfire washed over him. It hadn't been hard to sense where the mirror was, what with the waves of power rolling off of it. Each warrior that came quickly trudged down the same path, their bodies adorned in various colors and paints. Only one seemed to stay by the mirror's side, a massive bull that towered above the rest. Leaning against a tree, the silent bovine stared blankly at the mirror. In his grip, a massive axe, the size of which Eoin had never seen.

Destroying the mirror was out of the question, especially with such monstrous opposition in his way. Eoin silently began to slink past the mirror before he paused once more, his eyes catching sight of something.

A pile of black snow, as if something had recently been covered up, sat in the corner of the opening. By its side, a hammer. One that Eoin had seen plenty of times before.

Rhom's hammer.

Eoin hesitated. As he glanced at the pile of black snow once more. A clawed hand lay half-buried, fingers tensing and twitching.

“R-Rho-?!" Eoin began, before quickly clasping his hands over his mouth. The male only further panicked as his fingers wrapped around the space in front of where his face should be. Panic turned to confusion as he poked and squeezed, slowly realizing that the thing he was touching actually was his mouth. Crossing his eyes, Eoin stared blankly at his wet nose. His lips felt plump, tongue sliding against the roof of his stretched out mouth. How had he not noticed this?

Eoin glared at the corruption emanating from the mirror. The hellfire that wafted from it was far too powerful. The pulses that emanated from the mirror washed across Eoin in great waves. Staying here was dangerous… but Rhom… he couldn't leave Rhom like this…

“I'm sorry Victus." Eoin whispered, the half-demon slowly clambering onto his hands and knees as he crawled around the side of the clearing. He kept his eyes trained on the bovine standing guard, doing his best not to focus on the popping and shifting sounds coming from his hips. Back arching, Eoin could feel something pushing out past the lip of his pants. Tugging at the tight fabric, Eoin glared at the protrusion. The tiny, black furred tail was the least of the writer's concerns right now, yet the hellfire that coursed through him seemed to demand that he acknowledge it.

He was changing. The hellfire had always tried to hide it from him, but now, with so much washing over him, it was hard to ignore. Eoin swallowed tightly as he turned his attention back to the mirror. The lights had stopped flashing, a small window of silence opening for Eoin. Seizing his opportunity, the shifting male continued his steady crawl towards Rhom. Trudging forwards, Eoin slipped out into the clearing. One hand reaching out, the writer slipped his hand into the mound of black snow. Sifting around, Eoin's palm wrapped around something cold. Panicking, the writer began to tug, yanking as fast as he could to free his friend.

Muscles bulging across Eoin's form, the writer's flattening teeth ground together as he yanked Rhom free. The sound of his shirt ripping tore through the clearing, though the sudden noise was the least of Eoin's worries. Rhom was stiff. Half of the wolf's face had turned to stone, his other eye barely open. Lip twitching, the wolf tried to move his petrified arms.

“No… No…" Eoin huffed, placing a hand against the wolf's armor. The bull had already turned towards him, axe tightening in his grip. His cover lost, Eoin simply pulled Rhom closer against him.

“I'm sorry." The writer whispered, cradling his friend. “I can fix this. I promise. I-I'll fix this."

Hellfire coursed through Eoin as he took a haggard breath. The bull was slowly making his way towards him, heavy hooves trudging through the snow. The writer closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he gently lay Rhom down again. Shakily, the writer got back onto his hooves, opening his eyes once more to stare down the bovine in front of him.

“I can do this." Eoin repeated, turning his attention towards the bull in front of him. The half shifted male took a deep breath as he let the corruption roll through him. “Hellfire, help me."

Eoin shuddered as he felt his body wrack with unfettered pleasure. The torrent of emotions going through him clashed as they slowly stirred together, the man's eyes widening as he took a few stumbling steps towards the bull. He'd opened the gates within, and soon, the hellfire emanating from the portal felt… Good. Amazing, even. Unabashed, Eoin puffed out his chest as he took another confident step towards the bull, shirt shredding with each shuddering breath.

“You need to stop this. Now." Eoin spoke, his voice cracking as it began to deepen. The raspy tone sounded strange in his ears, his breathing going haggard. The writer let out a snort as he stomped a hoof, nostrils flaring as he glared at the bull in front of him.

The snow around Eoin's hooves shuddered as it began to condense and fracture, black ice glinting around the writer like fractured glass. The bull paused for a moment, as if noting the sudden change in attitude. Slowly, the warrior lifted his axe, delivering a snort of his own to the opponent in front of him. Eoin's mind was racing. He didn't know how to fight. He didn't even have a weapon. The shifting male tried to take another step forward, surprised to find his legs frozen in…

“Ice?" Eoin frowned, ears flicking in confusion.

The bull took this moment to swing, axe cleaving through the air. Eoin gasped as he glanced upwards, raising his hand out to block the blade flying towards him. The writer recoiled inwards as a torrent of black ice erupted out in front of his axe. Shrapnel splintered as the axe wedged into the frozen wall, sending Eoin stumbling backwards from the force of the impact. Eoin let out a yelp as he felt his hands pop and snap, fingers digging into the snow. The writer lifted himself from the snow, staring at the claw marks he'd dragged through the snow. Long streaks of ice sat in their place, Eoin's fingers now blackened and sharp. Palms shaking, skin pitch black and gnarled. The hands of a demon.

What little shreds of Eoins shirt still remained unceremoniously dropped to the ground. Confused, Eoin glanced down at the black coat of fur growing over his torso. The writer could feel his pectorals bulge as he took a few more deep breaths, hellfire coursing through his veins. His body felt awkward and heavy, each step sending his body jostling forward in that direction. The weight alone felt so foreign to Eoin, the demon carefully reaching a hand up to touch at the bulk pressing down atop his skull. Wicked fingers curled around horns, causing Eoin to let out a snort of… Pleasure?

He was a demon now. There was no going back. Or rather, m-maybe he was finally ready to admit that there was no going back. This was his life. He'd made this choice. Eoin took a deep, rumbling breath as he let go of his horns. Brow furrowed, he turned his attention back to the bull slowly trudging towards him. Tiny tail perking, shoulders broad, Eoin stood tall before the warrior.

“I m-may have no idea what I'm doing." Eoin began, muscles tensing as he glared at the opposition in front of him. “But I can't let you keep going about your b-business. Victus' orders."

The bull let out a snort of defiance as the beast began charging once more. Eoin stepped forward, eyes flashing with measured anger as he glared at the warrior. Eyes wide, Eoin felt the corruption crawl up his body. Fur pushed out across the man's torso, thick coat filling in across his bulging form. Stomping a hoof, Eoin let out a loud bellow. The sound of his shouting was drowned out by the cascade of black ice that pushed out in front of him, the wall slamming against the bovine with a resounding crash. The bull snarled as he stumbled back, allowing the newly formed demon to take another step forward. Eoin's heavy hooves trudged across the ground, corrupted ice seeping out from him with each step. The wall of ice edged forward, pressing back against the warrior as it began to surround his large body.

The bull jerked its massive head as ice clasped around its neck, black eyes staring at Eoin with unwavering intensity. Try as the bull might, the beast couldn't force itself out of the shifting ice, his arms now completely encased in the shapeless mound surrounding him.

The whole sculpture suddenly pushed backwards, slamming the bull against a tree. Eoin blinked as the bull let out a pained snort, the crackling of ice suddenly ceasing as his intent wavered. The demon looked down at his form and stumbled, quickly becoming all too aware of how much taller he'd just grown. The whole clearing was now covered in ice, eyes widening as the writer looked out across his handiwork. The mirror, now submerged in a thick layer of his design, lay beneath Eoin's wobbly hooves. Whatever hellfire had been rolling off of the structure now seemed trapped within Eoin's ice, permitting a small and silent victory to the stag. Taking a single step, the heavy man's hoof quickly slid out from under him, causing the demon to quickly slip and come crashing down onto his knees. The shuddering thud made Eoin truly feel the weight of his body for the first time, a deep grunt escaping his newly formed muzzle.

He'd changed.

The naked stag glanced down at the ice, eyes widening at his own reflection. Hands reaching up, he explored his fattened lips once more, tongue curling out of his mouth to run across his wet nose. His horns had begun to split apart into several directions, the beginning of his antlers on proud display. Eoin was surprised to see that the whites of his eyes were still here, thickened fingers tugging at his eyelid as he examined his face. Was there… Still more left to change?

The bull was silent as it glared at Eoin, ear flicking impatiently as the beast continued to test at its restraints. The bovine clenched, muscles tensing as the hellbeast strained to move its frozen body.

The writer idly squeezed at his newly found bulk as he turned to face the bull. The fresh demon squinted as he stared at the warrior, frowning as he realized the beast had not been deterred.

“Still?" Eoin rumbled, huffing as he slowly began to pull himself up onto his hooves."I told you, I don't want to fight."

The bull snorted in response, ears flicking once more as the beast sneered. Carefully, the stag slowly slid away from his opponent, eyes darting across the frozen landscape as he searched for his friend.

“Rhom?" Eoin called out, ears perking as he made out the sight of his friend splayed out a good distance away. Awkwardly, the powerful demon slipped and fumbled his way off the ice. Rushing over, the stag dropped down to the side of his friend. The wolf seemed so much smaller to Eoin now, the writer's body having bulked in such a short amount of time. Rhom's eyes were shut, one brow locked in a pained expression. The wolf was petrified, but not entirely. He could… fix this, right? The demon reached out to caress the cheek of his friend, closing his eyes as he tried to focus on the hellfire coursing within him.

The stag could feel a pulling sensation, as if his own corruption was slowly seeping into the wolf. How long would it take to fix Rhom? Hours? Days? All Eoin knew, is that he didn't have the time. The black stag huffed as he quickly knelt down closer, burly hands wrapping around his friend before hoisting him up.

“I'm not leaving you here." Eoin grunted, voice still unfamiliar in his ears. “Come on. I'm taking you back to camp."

The stag gave one last look at the barrier shimmering above the treeline. How many demons were awaiting their chance to storm the Keep? How long would it take Victus' hellbeasts to get here? There were too many questions left hanging for Eoin to be comfortable dismissing this problem. He had to act, and he had to do so now.

Victus tried to calm himself as the Unforeseen rushed past. His mind raced as flits of visions mingled and swirled. It was impossible to decipher most of the dreams, the Prince of Heed doing his best to remain calm during the extreme bout of limbo. The world spun, as if the elk was being torn apart in several different directions. He'd taken on too many prophecies, and the Questions he'd asked of the Unforeseen stirred his mind like a raging sea. Vertigo rocked through Victus as he clutched at his chair, brow furrowed in anguish. How much longer would it take? Without a vision to hold on to, the Prince was at the whims of his own thoughts.

How long had it been since he'd had a restful sleep? The burden of slumber had certainly taken its toll on the demon. If only he hadn't taken the mantle. If only he hadn't learned of his powers. Maybe then, Victus might have found peace in life. The elk felt strained for air, drowning in a sea of his own misery. Impossible to escape. So much, already set in motion… He needed to be there, for Ridgecrest. And yet here he was, frozen to his throne in the midst of panic. The elk knew he needed to calm down, his body no doubt shaking stiffly atop his chair. What a shameful display…

The Unforeseen. If only… He'd never… Answered. The corruption, all-encompassing, was the source of his misery. How long ago had it been since he'd sought this power out? To speak to the corruption, to see all that it could see. Powerful. Omniscient. Terrifying, and mindless. The magic hungered, coursing through the land in its never-ending quest for more. How did the King of Corruption handle this? Victus could barely manage to grab hold of the Unforeseen, his dreams the only stable way to maintain control. The prince recoiled in his own mind at the irony of the word. Control? Victus was in control of nothing. Rhom. His poor Rhom. So pure. Sent to his death by his own hands. His claws. Victus was no better than the rest of them. The corruption coursed through them all, pulsing. For the Unforeseen could see beyond. Past the barrier. In its nigh-infinite power, it could predict.

Why? Why had Victus called upon it? More terrifyingly… Why had it answered him? The first of his questions, asked on a parchment sitting in his lap. His dreams calm. Pleasurable. Only for him to awake, with answers returned in kind. At first, Victus had assumed they were his own maddened scrawlings. But time after time, and year after year, Victus asked. And answers were returned. His dreams became more lucid, and soon, the Unforeseen would take him to others. All who were corrupted were privy to Victus' gaze, and with this power, came the vertigo. As powerful as the Prince was, he was no King. The dreams had been his tool. His rise to power, and influence. But as he took to his throne, slowly, he too had become a tool. The other Prince's began asking for prophecies in a steady trickle, as if testing the waters of Victus' accuracy. As time passed, that trickle had become a river. And then a lake. And then-

Victus reeled as another violent throb coursed through his body. The corruption coiled within him, draining the Prince as fast as he could regain hellfire. He'd turned his sleep into his work, and his work was never over. What had he done? The elk tried to thrash, but his mind couldn't stop racing. He could feel his body, yet he had no control over it. Subject to the throes of the Unforeseen. Subject to bear witness to it all.

He needed someone. Anyone. To hold on to. Rhom. Pevlan. Anyone. The maddening turbulence of his thoughts would be his end. The corruption would devour the continent. A thousand possibilities. A million outcomes. He-

“Victus?" A voice spoke up, clear as day amidst his panic.

Keeper blinked as he stared up at the shaking elk, one hand resting on the Prince's knee.

“Victus, are you all right?" The snake called out, squeezing reassuringly. “You look pained."

Keeper? I-Is that you Keeper?

He was staring through the snake's eyes, vision trained on his own uncomfortable body. The demon had been looking after him, yet…

I-I did not order you to remain by my side, Keeper. You must-

The snake slowly shook his head as he crawled onto Victus' lap. The sensation of his own body through Keeper's touch felt strange, the Prince quieting as he let the demon rest comfortably against him.

“I'm not going anywhere. Not with you like this." Keeper spoke softly, scaly hide pressed tightly against Victus' fur. The throne room was quiet, save for their gentle breathing. The Prince of Heed could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his chest, the pulse slowly steadying as time passed.

How many have you sent off?

“Around fifty. They're to organize northwest of the border." Keeper mumbled, fingers lazily running through soft fur. The snake was relishing this, basking in the glow of his Prince's corruption. Is this what it felt like for the others? Victus had never allowed himself to revel in the corruption of someone greater than he.

That's… Good, Keeper. I must thank you for coming back here. The news has somewhat startled me, and the Unforeseen has been less than kind.

“Then you should do less. Yes?" Keeper huffed, gazing up at the sleeping elk. “You don't need to be asleep for so long, and the toll it takes on you isn't worth it. We can wean you off slowly, have you-"

Keeper. Please. We can talk about this after my slumber is over. When the waning has ended.

Keeper held his breath for a moment, tongue darting out to flick at the air between them. Shrugging, the snake leaned back in, doing his best to wrap his arms around the Prince's torso.

“Alright, Victus. I'll take it." Keeper sighed, nuzzling into the slumbering demon. “We'll tackle one thing at a time, yeah? The attack on Fort Anthem comes first."

Thank you, Keeper.

Silence pervaded the throne room once more, Keeper's eyes glancing up to stare at the trinkets adorning Victus' antlers. A clawed hand reached out and tapped at the lone key amongst the group, sending it swaying back and forth above the stag's ear.

“He'll be fine, you know." Keeper spoke at last. “Rhom. He's got a lot of heart. And besides, you gave the new recruit to him, right?"

Right. The author doesn't take me as someone to make foolish mistakes. The two might yet balance one another out, on that front.

“Playing matchmaker, Victus?" The snake asked, pausing to let out a long yawn. Nestling closer, Keeper clung to the hellfire that rolled off of Victus. “I didn't think you were the type."

Rhom knows nothing of life beyond the wall. I thought it best to give him time with a human. Whether the two find enjoyment in one another's company was never my business.

“Yeah. None of your business." Keeper parroted, eyes now closed. The softness pressed against him was drawing him close, and the tired snake clutched tightly around Victus. “Nothing… More…"

T E N -

In Which The Waning Ends

Shoreline of Wreathton | Fort Anthem | Lookout Post 1B

The Fifth of Onward. Fourth waning. Twentieth dawn.

Tan yawned as he trudged up the ladder, eyelids slowly closing with each step. His sleep had been interrupted with sightings from 1B, though the paladin was hesitant to rush to the post. The guard stationed atop this post had been Thatch, a recruit who had accrued quite a large amount of 'sightings' over the course of his career. While admirable, the amount of false alarms Thatch had accrued left little efficacy behind his station. The paladin questioned how much longer his patience would last as he clambered out into the cold winter air. The nipping temperature was relatively calm in comparison to the harsh waning they had just went through. Muttering under his breath, Tan shut the trapdoor behind him. The sudden sound made the guard by the edge of the tower jump, quickly turning on his heel to salute.

“S-Sir!" Thatch yelped, body straightening out as he greeted the Paladin. The recruit had bundled himself up nicely, heavy cloak pressed around his form.

“What's this about a sighting?" The paladin asked, waving a hand to dismiss the recruit's stiff behavior. The sooner he could prove this to be a false alarm, the quicker he'd be back to his cot.

“It's the barrier, sir." Thatch began, pointing out to the perimeter of the barrier. The snow flitted down with a heavy density, sending a myriad of lights flashing across the magical wall. Tan squinted out at the horizon, eyes searching for any abnormalities that lay within the shimmering. “I'm certain of it. Every now and again, there's a bright flash. I think someone's trying to breach through."

“Is that so?" Tan frowned, reaching out to grab at the spyglass in front of him. The paladin made a mental note to chastise Thatch for leaving his equipment perched on the edge of the lookout post as he brought the cold metal up to his eye.

It was hard to make out much of any shape along the border. Tan's brow furrowed as he scanned the line, his motions practiced and steady. Nothing to be seen so far. The paladin huffed as he waited patiently, the guard next to him shivering in the cold. The snowfall had been quite severe tonight, and the cover it provided along this border was optimal for a break-in.

Tan pulled the spyglass away from his eye and shoved it against Thatch's chest, doing his best to hide the yawn that creeped past his lips.

“D-Did you see it?" The guard asked, scrabbling to tuck the spyglass away into its proper holster on his belt. Tan simply grunted in response, turning on his heel before bending down into a kneel.

The trapdoor groaned as it opened up, snowfall filtering through the opening as Tan began to trudge down.

“Stay up here. If you see any activity, beyond even a single doubt, you raise the alarm." Tan ordered, dropping down the last few rungs of the cold ladder.

“And what about you?" Thatch asked, voice wavering as he shouted down the hatch.

“Me? I'm pulling a patrol together to go check it out myself. Good work up there Thatch, your observational skills have been well noted." The paladin called back, trudging down the dark halls of his Keep. Tan raised a hand and waved it behind his head, shaking it dismissively. “Now back at it, squire."

“Y-Yessir."

The groan of Thatch's trapdoor slamming down echoed through the corridor. Tan dusted off a bit of snow that clung to his shoulders, brow furrowing as he mentally ran through the list of guards available to him. At this time of night?

“It's only one more day." Tan muttered to himself, tugging the heavy door in front of him open. His boots trudged across the stone floor as he kept his eyes trained on the path in front of him. It wasn't that Tan had seen something beyond the wall. It was that Tan couldn't see what lay beyond. The waning had been too quiet, the paladin's mind quickly spinning through the possibilities. That demon had tried entering his head once more. A husk of the man he once knew, a shadow, rearing its ugly head again.

Tan shook his head as he pressed a palm flat against the door to his quarters. He had to prepare. Be it paranoia, or years of experience, the paladin didn't know. But right now, Tan needed to be in his armor.

“All of this will be over soon." The man reminded himself, sighing as he stepped through the entrance to his chambers. “And Dawn is just around the corner."

Hunched over, the naked elk stared out at the pack of demons from the safety of the forest. The path from the mirror to their small entrenchment had been well-tread. The snowfall had done its best to cover their tracks, but the heavy trudgings of these demons had plowed much of the snow aside.

Equines with massive horns sprouting from their heads slowly paced along the edge of their group. A bear was brazenly sharpening its axe, Eoin's eyes focusing on the wicked scars that traced the beast's back. The scars seemed made of stone, breaking up the hide in stark, painful lines. Lashings, by the look of it, a gag of some kind wrapped around the bear's mouth. Paint adorned the demon's bodies, both fur and flesh marked with strange swirls and dots. Two lions were mating openly within the center of the pack. The luxurious mane of the larger one lay beneath, a sword's point buried into the snow beside his head. Hands wrapped around the hilt of the blade, the snarling feline atop him slowly humped into the beast below.

Thud!

Eoin's eyes darted to the wall beside the pack, the barrier's stark shape lighting up as a ripple of energy rocked across it. The wave of light slowly faded as it rolled down either side of the barrier, the heavy snowfall doing well to mask the intensity of the force rocking across it.

The majority of the thirty or so demons had all begun to gather at the edge of the barrier. The rocky slope the group had gathered below kept the group out of sight of the tall Keep looming beyond, the bottom of the barrier impossible to spot from the guard's vantage points. Eoin silently hoped that Tan's men had sent patrols out tonight as he watched a musclebound boar slowly stride up to the edge of the barrier. The other demon's were watching him carefully, the boar snorting violently as he stomped a hoof through the blackened snow. The massive pig rushed the barrier once more, launching himself at the wall with an intensity Eoin hadn't expected. Another ripple of light rocked across the barrier as the boar was sent stumbling backwards. Hands reaching up, the demon grabbed at his head. His horns had turned to stone, thick clumps of his face slowly shuddering as he began to petrify. Falling over, the beast went limp on his side. The other demon's watched patiently, their gaze unflinching. Slowly, the boar's foot kicked. The paint across his body glowed with a sudden intensity, the petrification slowly etching away as the demon was brought back from the brink of stillness. Pulling himself to his hooves, the boar roared loudly as he charged the barrier once more.

Another ripple rocked across the wall as Eoin slid back into his hiding spot. Gazing down at his foreign body, the demon did his best to soak in what he'd just seen. Thirty. Maybe forty demons. They were trying to break through, and from the looks of it, were more than ready to begin wreaking havoc on the other side.

The warpaint.

Eoin blinked as he turned back the way he came. The bull? No. He hasn't had any. If that stuff could cure petrification, then… couldn't it help Rhom?

The stag pulled himself back up again, adrenaline still pumping through his body as he scanned the horizon once more. He couldn't see any sort of-

The two lions snarled as they reach their climax, hips mashing together as the feline atop pulled his mate close. One paw reached into a pouch strapped to his side before slathering his claws across the moaning lion's body. Paint drooled from his palm as he pressed his paw flat against the hellbeast, the larger lion bucking forward as he rode the shaft within him.

Eoin could feel his own loins go flush at the sight, his tail perking on its own as he gawked at the display. Those pouches had more paint, right? All he had to do was get a pouch off of one of those beasts, and then…

Another ripple, this time accompanied by a rather dangerous snapping sound. Streaks of light now stretched out across the barrier, Eoin's heart skipping a beat at the sight. He didn't have long.

“Think. Think." Eoin huffed under his breath. His eyes darted across the horizon behind him as he searched for signs of other demons. Wasn't Victus supposed to bring help? When would they get here?

He couldn't wait. He had to do something. And yet-

Eoin paused, eyes locking on the shoreline beyond. Black snow turned to fresh ice, the once-destroyed sea of ice had now half-patched together. The ice itself was thin on its own, the pure coloration of drifting ice untouched by the corrupted shoreline. Eoin glanced at his hooves, and then back towards the sea. What if… No. He couldn't. There was no way he could-

Eoin stiffened as a heavy mallet dropped by his side. Slowly, the elk turned his head up, following the hilt of the crudely crafted weapon before locking eyes with its owner. The one-eyed wolf was sneering at him, fangs bared. More of those paint markings lined his body as well, causing Eoin's eyes to quickly dart to the man's hips. He couldn't make out any sight of such a pouch, the wolf seeming only to sport various ropes and blades across his body.

“Who do yew belong to?" The wolf snarled, pointing a claw at the elk. “Y'look a bit too fancy to be a scout. An' what's with all this?"

The wolf kicked a foot at haphazardly at the ground around Eoin. The elk looked down, realizing that ice had once again begun forming around his hooves.

“Oh. That-"

Crack!

Eoin fell backwards, blinking with pain. He felt his jaw snap into place as hellfire numbed the throbbing, one hand still tentatively reaching out to nurse the wound. Sitting upright, Eoin quickly scrambled backwards away from the demon.

The wolf grinned, grabbing at his weapon and slowly dragging it along the snow behind him.

“Aw, whats'tha matter?" The hellbeast snarled, stepping over the ice Eoin had left in his wake. “Y'dont like playing rough? Victus always did raise softies."

Eoin scrambled to his hooves as the wolf raised his weapon up, the elk's balance slipping out from under him as a torrent of jagged ice erupted from the snow. The wolf howled in pain as the author's retaliation met flesh, Eoin's eyes widening as he turned tail completely. He didn't want to look at the damage he'd just done, though the sounds of gnashing teeth and snarling hadn't exactly encouraged Eoin to stick around.

He could see other demon's on the horizon, turning their attention towards him. Eoin was trapped, his legs thundering beneath him as he barreled towards the ocean. His hooves slid against the thicker ice with practiced ease, his days spent trudging along this very coast paying off in droves as he kept his eyes trained on the half-frozen waters in front of him.

“Please work. Please work. Please work!" Eoin chanted, racing even faster across the clear ice. He could hear it cracking below his hooves, the slick sound echoing across the expansive waters in front of him. Eoin closed his eyes and started running, not bothering to worry about the distance he was closing.

Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop. SPLASH!

Eoin's eyes shot open mid-sprint. His leg had pushed forward into open water, yet the water had completely frozen beneath his hoof. The buoyant black ice pushed back against him, Eoin's eyes widening as he realized he'd just corrupted salt water in a single step. The elk's momentum had taken over now, and Eoin was powerless to stop himself. The elk snorted as he kept on running, pushing down against the forming ice with desperate faith that it'd hold his weight.

Splash! Splash! Splash! Splash!

Eoin winced with pain as salt water leapt at him, each leap sending him deeper out into the ocean. The elk desperately tried to carry his momentum towards the edge of the barrier, the sound of the shore behind him now lost amidst the splashing and hissing below him. It took Eoin a moment to realize what the sizzling sound was, the numbing hellfire in his legs slowly losing their resistance to the salt water that splashed about in his wake. Brow furrowed, Eoin let out a bestial snort of motivation as he pressed on at even greater speeds. Bounding with every step, Eoin felt a tremendous pressure build within his chest. The man's blinked as the color in his pupils slowly drained to black, nostrils flaring as he turned the corner of the barrier. Twisting about as he changed direction, Eoin glared at the Keep before him with newfound motivation.

“TAAAAAAAAN!" Eoin bellowed, chest rumbling with each step towards solid ground. The white shoreline in front of him was something Eoin had never expected to see again. The untouched snow sparked a strange excitement in the stag, his snorting getting louder with each leap.

Splash splash splash-

Eoin blinked as he stopped running, heavy hooves pressed down against the thick ice as he slid towards the Keep. Stumbling forwards, the heavy elk came to a stop in front of the steep slope, his momentum halting as he stared at the imposing lookout towers beyond. No doubt they could see him here, standing defiantly atop their land.

The Fool… had returned. Blackened hooves hissed beneath the stag, massive chest rising and falling with laboured breaths. Hellfire rolled off of the demon as he took his first step forward, loins stirring with excitement as the ground beneath his feet turned black before his very eyes.

The paladin would have never thought he'd return. The paladin had tried to kill him. The paladin was his enemy now. This land… wasn't his anymore.

A thousand thoughts coursed through the stag's mind as he trudged forward, his shoulders hunching as a frenzied look filled his eyes. The black of his pupils threatened to burst out, bloodshot veins slowly seeping into a deeper coloration.

“I'm back, you bastard." The writer huffed, trudging up the slope towards the Keep. “I'm back, and I'm coming for you."

E L E V E N -

In Which The Paladin Protects His Keep

Shoreline of Wreathton | Fort Anthem

The Fifth of Onward. Fourth waning. Twentieth dawn.

“Tan?" The guard's voice wavered from behind the paladin, his small group already retreating away from the lone demon in front of him. His guards knew better than to stick close during a demon sighting, though the paladin found a small amount of admiration in Remmings' determination to stay by his side.

“Head back inside and barricade everything." Tan ordered, drawing his blade as he stared daggers at the hellbeast rushing towards him. The snow beneath this beast's hooves had already blackened, Tan's eyes carefully studying the shoreline. He was working alone, having travelled across the waters by himself. The hellfire within this demon, while not palpable from this distance, was no laughing matter. Tan steeled himself as he glared at the powerful threat.

“So you've come to my shores, demon!" Tan barked, trudging through the snow as he readied his weapon. Light glinted off his blade as the paladin exerted his will, armor shimmering as he pressed on.

“Do you not recognize me, Paladin?" The deep voice rumbled back, calling out to the man in front of him. Palms open towards the paladin, the elk did his best to make himself appear as non-threatening as possible.

Black fur. Horns fresh, the white of the elk's eyes still visible. The demon in front of him had yet to even finish his corruption. Tan gripped his blade tightly as he pointed the tip towards his foe. He could feel the hellfire now, flitting about through the air as it tainted the very ground this demon trudged. He'd crossed the water on his own, the smoke rolling off his hooves evidence of this.

“I tend to wipe my mind of beasts like you, demon." Tan grunted. “You'll have to remind me, lest I-"

Tan stopped mid sentence as the demon drops to one knee. The elk bowed its head as gracefully as its large body could allow it, eyes fixated on Tan's boots.

“On behalf of the Prince of Heed." The demon began, keeping as still as could be. “I've come to you with dire-"

A shimmering light erupted from the end of Tan's blade. Searing warmth wrapped around the demon's wrists as he let out a startled yell. Recoiling, the elk struggled to move backwards, only to quickly be halted in place. Chains made of brilliant light wrapped around his wrists, the demon's muscles bulging as he tried to resist their pull. With a thud, the hellbeast's arms were yanked into the snow, a bright light slowly beginning to surround him.

“Tan! S-Stop this! I'm not the threat!" The demon yelled out, eyes turning up to stare at the paladin's emotionless expression. “The barrier! Tan, please-"

The elk's eyes widen as the circle of light around him shot upwards, a barrier of light pushing out around him. The half-dome settled into place around the hellbeast, whose calm expression was slowly beginning to crack. Had he come here, all this way, just for Tan to… to…

“Tan. Please." The elk began, laying his head even lower down to the blackened snow beneath him. “For once in your life, please, trust a demon!"

“I put my faith in you at the start of this waning. Why should I do it now, demon?" Tan huffed in annoyance, slowly lowering his blade away from the erected barrier. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, betraying the paladin's calm demeanor.

“So you do remember me! I'm E-Eoin! You-" The author began, shuddering as a flare of emotions rolled through the man. The elk let out a snort as he slammed a fist against the snow, brow furrowing as he sneered. “You tried to blow me up! I have every right to ask for your faith!"

“I owe you nothing, hellbeast. You chose your path. You knew the consequences. And now look at yourself." Tan scoffed, looking down at the massive demon with disgust. “You've-"

“I'm here despite all of that, you idiot! Shut up for a minute, and let me explain! I'm here to help you-" Eoin began, only to have the paladin cut him off.

“Help me?" The Paladin glared. “After all this, you expect me to-"

“Tan! Please! There are demons on your border! Not Heed's! They're going to break through at any moment! I came here to warn you!" Eoin shouted over the Paladin, chest rumbling in earnest.

The paladin squinted at the elk. Horns, still fresh. Emotions flaring uncontrollably. The writer had become unhinged. The hellfire that rocked through the stag before him would only grow stronger. Believe it or not, Eoin was a threat, and Tan had been given an opportunity to finish the job.

Raising his sword once more, the paladin steeled himself in front of the hellbeast. Taking a deep breath, the man's armor began to glow once more. Eoin looked back at him with pleading, defiant eyes.

A deep breath. The paladin reminded himself that the elk's eyes would one day be completely black, the corruption having only just begun its work on this man. A threat, Tan reminded himself. Just like any other.

A deep, steady ringing, suddenly erupted from the Keep behind Tan. The paladin halted, head jerking towards the looming barrier beside them. Golden eyes quickly focused on the portion of the barrier Thatch had highlighted. The barrier there was flickering madly, a sight which made Tan's heart skip a beat.

The paladin quickly sheathed his weapon and began trudging past Eoin, the grizzled man glancing back as he watched his guards all take to their posts, ready to defend the keep.

“Wait!" Eoin called out, leaning towards the edge of his cage. “They've got paint! It stops them from turning to stone!"

The paladin's footsteps slowed. With a sigh, Tan slowly turned to address the hellbeast he'd captured.

“You need me! I can help! A-And I can tell you what I saw! How many there are!" Eoin pressed, placing a hand to his chest in earnest. “I can help. Please, Tan. Trust me."

In the blink of an eye, the personal barrier was no more. Tan, wary eyed, gestured for the elk to stand.

“Then you'll be staying in front of me." Tan spoke with a growl."Tell me everything you know, and no sudden movements. I won't hesitate to-"

Eoin darted around Tan, giving the man a healthy distance as he started his beeline towards the barrier. Heavy hooves leapt through the snow, leaving patches of black behind every step. Muttering under his breath, the paladin slowly began to pick up his pace, the two marching off towards the flickering barrier that lay beyond.

A wave of nostalgia washed over Tan as he stared at the elk in front of him. The paladin hesitated for just a moment, blinking as visions of old came pouring back to him. How many years had it been since he and…

No. Tan shook his head in defiance. Best not to start thinking about such things now.

The barrier shattered, fragments of light erupting off of the wall in a brilliant display. The hog that came crashing through fell to the white snow, naked body turned to stone. Hooved and clawed feet alike trudged past the hog, some even stepping atop the petrified hellbeast, as the small army made their way onto fresh land. Their black eyes gleamed, ears flicking, nostrils flaring. They stood on pure snow, basking in their freedom as the corruption seeped off their bodies. Pleasure coursed through each of them as their twisted forms shuddered in delight, gratification for their efforts coursing through their bodies. Each had been training beneath their Prince for such a day, and the pleasure that radiated through each of them only further spurred their motives. Stepping deeper into the paladin's domain, they slowly began to pick up speed. The Keep that loomed above them was their true objective. So many guards, ripe for the taking. And then, all of this land could be theirs.

The hellbeast in the snow slowly pulled itself upright, stiff joints popping as the demon's paint crackled to life. Drawing his club, the hog squealed to catch up with its brethren. The snow was painted black in their wake, corruption pushing forth from their breach to spread even farther. Running now, up over the small slope that had kept them hidden from the Keep's gaze. They scrambled down, the guard's above surely having seen their approach by now.

None of the demons expected a searing light to erupt from their side. A few demons quickly vanished into clouds of smoke as the more experienced demons leapt out of the line of sight. Those that didn't turned to face the paladin, black eyes squinting at the radiant glow in front of them. Light whipped outwards from the paladin's blade, streaking lashes of magic wrapping around each that had stilled. The blur of dazzling lights quickly wrapped around whatever they touched. Arms. Maws. Chests. One by one, the demons were tugged down onto their knees. Individual bubbles of light erected around each demon as they snarled against their restraints, some still kneeling against their heavy weights.

Paladin Tan was muttering under his breath as he stared at the twenty or so demons he'd managed to capture, bright eyes surveying the land in careful analysis. A burst of smoke erupted from behind the Paladin mid-count, Tan's free hand quickly reaching out behind him to erect a new barrier. Five demons slid out from the smoke, blades of scald glinting in the moonlight as they drove them down towards the paladin. The ground beneath their feet was suddenly swallowed in corruption, snow shuddering upwards as it bulged upwards. Ruptures of ice, sharp and pointed, surrounded each of the demons, a few howling in frustration as they were halted in place. Farther up the hill, now standing atop the rock face he'd been hiding behind, the black stag snorted triumphantly.

“Not those demons!" Tan shouted back, watching as the demons behind him began to dissipate into smoke once more. Stomping one foot, radiance shot forth from his armor. Streaks of light fractured the elk's ice, sending a wave of both smoke and shrapnel away from Tan. Muttering under his breath, Tan turned away from the bath of demons still racing towards his keep, and turned his attention on the smoke. Hand still waving through the air, he quickly traced a wide circle in the snow before clenching his fist. A large dome around the demons was erected in seconds, Tan's muttering turning into a single brazen shout as the barrier flashed with an intensity yet to be seen. Eoin shielded his eyes from the bright light, blinking as he turned to look at the four petrified demons that lay still within Tan's circle. Their markings had been seemingly burned away from the intensity of the light, the still statues showing no signs of movement. The strobe had left spots in Eoin's eyes, who was still blearily wiping at them as he turned his attention to the paladin. A group of six had turned their attention away from the keep, quickly sprinting back towards Tan. Eoin felt hellfire pulse through him as he glared at the group of ravenous beasts, quickly hopping off the steep rock face as he shouted to Tan.

“Behind you!" The two shouted at the same time.

Eoin blinked in surprise, quickly twisting around to face whatever was encroaching on him. A dagger hung in the air in front of him, near inches away from the elk's muzzle. The reptile that had thrown the blade sat a dozen or so yards away, blinking in surprise before gripping at the air in front of him. Somehow, Eoin felt the glinting blade 'tug' out of his control, watching as the weapon quickly returned to the air beside the hellbeast. How had Eoin been 'holding' the floating weapon? The elk didn't have the time to contemplate why as the reptile sent the blade whipping back towards him. Eoin lifted his arms up in a desperate attempt to call out to the snow beneath him. The author could feel the corrupted ground respond, snow lifting up as it began to fracture. What little ice lifted into the air caused Eoin to panic, as the reptile's blade came shattering through his barrier. Whipping past his ear, the elk dropped his flimsy barricade. The snow around him had been the source of the problem, with so little of it having corrupted below him. The elk frowned as he realized he'd allowed his analysis to take priority over-

A wince of pain. Hellfire coursing through his ear. Eoin grunted as the blade slid across his skin, the elk instinctively reaching up to touch at the wound. His thick fingers pressed against a tingling numbness, his hellfire having already healed the injury in a matter of seconds. The reptile let the blade spin around him once before sending it flying back at Eoin, the elk's eyes wide as he tried to consider his options. He needed ice. A lot of it. How did he stop that blade? It looked like it was made out of scald, and yet-

Blink.

Eoin stared the weapon down as it came to a halt in front of him. The point of the throwing dagger wobbled as it strained to be tugged out of Eoin's 'grip', the elk's eyes locked on the length of its blade. Slowly reaching out, Eoin grabbed at the shuddering weapon, gripping the weapon by its hilt. He examined the instrument in his hand, blinking in surprise. He could control scald?

The water freezing beneath his hooves. Ice reacting to his very will. Snow moving about as he deemed. Scald was just… Frozen ice water, hardened into weapons.

Eoin's hunch had turned out correct. The author blinked as he turned to face the reptile, only to do a double take as he realized a bubble of light had erected around the now-muzzled and pinned demon. Eoin's fur bristled, hands raising slightly as he felt the soft glow of radiance behind him. The stag slowly turned to face Tan, dropping the dagger down to the snow beside him. The paladin's blade was pointed at him, his whole body illuminating the dark battlefield around them.

“Why are you pointing that at-" Eoin began, only to quiet once more as the tip of Tan's blade bulged with light.

Five chains quickly shot around the elk in quick succession. Eoin stumbled backwards, snorting in frustration as he glared at the paladin.

“What do you think you're doing?!" The elk bellowed, glaring back at the man before him. His hooves slid about in the blackened snow, the weight of his chains slowly pulling him down to his knees. “Some of the demons ran towards your keep! You need to go take care of them!"

“You are to head back. Now." Tan ordered, blade still angled towards the cowering demon. “And you are to never return. Understood?"

“I- Wait. I need something before I go!" Eoin shouted, bowing his head towards the paladin. “Please! Their paint! They keep it in pouches. Please. I need it for my friend."

The Paladin glared at the stag kneeling before him, the tip of his sword angling below the author's muzzle. The intensity of the radiance forced the elk's eyes upwards, the paladin squinting as he looked into the whites of Eoin's eyes.

“You've yet to fully turn. I should end you. Right here and now." Tan muttered, the grip on his blade tightening. “Yet… You say you work for Heed?"

“S-Shouldn't you be helping out your k-keep? Or-" Eoin began, only to be interrupted by a bright glint of light.

“I am sparing you, demon. But you are never to use your ice to come here again." The paladin barked, eyes glowing. “Instead, you must promise me to help keep the 'bridge' at bay. Do you-"

“Yes! Yes! It's already my job, so yes!" Eoin shouted back, eyes firmly shut. “Can you please take these weights off of me so I can go help my fucking friend?!"

And in an instant, the bindings were gone. Eoin pulled backwards, scrabbling onto two legs as he shot a side-eyed look towards Tan. Wiping the black snow off his bare chest, he quickly trudged towards the reptile in the distance. The elk's ears swiveled as he listened for the sound of Eoin's boots behind him, somewhat relieved to hear the sound of Eoin following after him.

“Traitor!" The demon hissed from within its containment. The beast thrashed about, writhing within his restraints as he glared at the elk. “A traitor to your own kind! You should be ashamed!"

“You hurt my friend!" Eoin barked back, dropping to his knees beside the barrier.

The two silently traded glances as the reptile was pressed tightly to the ground. The barrier around the hellbeast dissipated, Eoin's hands eagerly reaching out to yank a paint-stained pouch off of the demon's belt.

“Thisss land belongs to us! And you work with those that wish to take it from us?!" The reptile cackled as the demon struggled against its bonds. “You're weak! Weak! A fool and a traitor. Vim would never accept you. You've made an enemy to us all! May the Great King strike you down where you-"

A flash of light shot forth, quickly wrapping around the reptile's maw like a gag. Eoin fell backwards, pouch in hand, as he watched a bubble wrap around the demon once more. Glancing back to Tan, Eoin surveyed the shimmering battlefield behind him. The paladin had dispatched so many demons, in such a short amount of time. The elk took a deep breath and slowly stood before Tan, his ears swiveling about as he thought of the right words to share.

“Look. I. I'm sorry." Eoin began. “I'm sorry I ran. I'm sorry I… Wrote… That book."

Before giving Tan a chance to retort Eoin quickly spun around, heading back towards the broken barrier. Ears swiveling, the stag focused on the sound of boots trudging behind him. Tan was following, no doubt to see that he left entirely.

“I did it because… I was mad. Mad that paladin's would actively hide and burn away all of these great texts, j-just because the people that wrote them became corrupted? It drove me into a fit, and I- It drove me to hurt the very cause I was trying to fight for. It was reactionary. Complicit. I felt like what I was doing had purpose, b-but now? I don't know. I put a lot of false nonsense out there into the world, a-and it wasn't my intent to paint this place as some paradise." Eoin snorted, gesturing to the black landscape from atop the hill. His hooves scrabbled as he slowly began to slide down towards the broken barrier. “I just. I've been thinking about what to say a lot, and I really don't know how to… Make amends. Confiscate every text of mine that you find, if you must. B-But please. Don't touch the greats. I think Victus' heart would break if he knew his texts were being burned."

“It wouldn't." Tan said, still standing at the top of the hill. Eoin turned back to face the paladin, a somber expression on each of their faces. “In fact, it was his last wish to me, before he started using that name."

“What?!" Eoin blinked in surprise, gawking up at the paladin. “But. But why?!"

“Yorwick's goal had been to understand the corruption. When he achieved this… When he… Left me. He… Sacrificed everything. Whatever knowledge he found, he has kept hidden with him. The last request he ever gave me had been a simple one. His work. To destroy it all. Lest others follow in his wake." Tan explained, eyes scanning the perimeter of the border as he spoke.

“But that's not right!" Eoin professed, placing a hand to his chest. “You can't just burn it all! O-Or keep it locked up! We learn from our mistakes! That's the only way we can change! There's context to anything, and-"

“Bring it up with Yorwick. I'm done giving him my time, demon. Maybe you'll have better luck with him." Tan grunted, waving his sword at the hellbeast. “Now leave. Save your 'friend'. I've a Keep to secure."

T W E L V E -

In Which A Prince Gets What He Wants

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, The Prince of Heed's Quarters

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Cusp, First morning.

Victus awoke with a jolt, eyes widening as the Unforeseen released the Prince from its grip. Keeper still weighed down atop him, the sleeping snake gently nestled against his chest. The snake looked calm, snout buried in his white fur. Victus didn't want to disturb the demon, one hand gently slipping under the man to lift the smaller male up. Gently sidling off his throne, the massive elk sat the snake back down atop the warm stone. He'd come for Keeper soon, but there were more pressing needs weighing down on Victus' mind.

The results of the Unforeseen.

Half asleep, the large elk strolled his way towards the door of his private quarters. Reaching towards his antlers, Victus' clawed fingers felt about for the appropriate key. Palm sifting through the collection of trinkets, the Prince frowned as he gripped at the air below his antler. Turning to look at the doorway, the elk's brow furrowed in worry. The door to his inner quarters were open, the key in question still pressed inside the door. Reaching out slowly, Victus tugged the heavy doors apart. Tugging the key out from its place within the door, the Prince stared at the small trinket with worry. Stepping inside, Victus squinted as he glanced at the large storage room in front of him. Shelves lined the way, each row meticulously organized. Black stone stretched deep into this chamber, only a small area beside the door seemingly lived in. Victus glanced at the bed that occupied this space, eyes quickly darting over his belongings. All remained untouched. Slowly, Victus moved to face the archives at large. Row after row. Countless prophecies. Dated. Archived. Their events updated as their truths were revealed. Victus strolled towards the newest row, large body barely having enough room to fit between the shelves. Sidling sideways, Victus scanned the line of hourglasses.

Their designs were simple enough. The sand in each had settled down on the bottom, a thin wedge of glass having separated them into two sides. In some, the sand had been evenly split between the two halves. In others, the majority of the sand had slid down one side. Resting in front of each, a question or statement. The left, representing yes or truth, and the right, representing no or lie. It had taken Victus so long to come up with such a system, yet the demon still grew antsy whenever it came time to check the results of his latest batch.

He glanced at the first of the new set. Each of his residents were granted one question per full cycle, though many of his thrall's spent their question on something similar. Victus frowned as his eyes turned to the five identical hourglasses beyond the first, each reading the same response.

Will I bear a child in the next cycle?

A strong No. Almost all of the sand on the right for each.

The notes had been handwritten. Victus swore it improved the accuracy of readings, though this particular question was already heavily skewed in one direction. The Prince had eased the burden of truth by requesting such prophecies be limited in yearly increments, if only to keep the broodmothers' hopes alive. In all of Victus' life, he'd only seen one Yes to such a question. The elk's frown quickly turned to a smile as he turned towards the next hourglass, whose question just so happened to belong to the very same demon who'd come from said experience.

Will I ever stop wasting my questions to make Victus' life atop that uncomfortable throne a little easier?

A strong yes. Almost all of the sand sat on the left side.

Victus' eyes darted further down the line, frowning as he read the result of Lattis' prophecy. The demon's questions had always been so direct. So… Intimidating. This question proved no different than the last.

Will A New King Be Chosen Next Cycle?

A strong no, with no sand resting on the left side.

Victus scanned the row, nodding as he mentally noted the answers of each question. Many of the answers that weren't pressing would be cast aside and reset for new prophecies, but the demon would first have to make the time to archive these results. For now, the Prince had more pressing problems at hand. Continuing past the collection, Victus made his way down to the end of the shelves. His eyes locked on the half-open wall at the far corner of the room, his pace increasing as he noticed the light within. His hidden room had been found, the false wall pushed ajar. A shadow flitted about as Victus rushed forward, throwing open the door as he squared his shoulders.

The row of hourglasses in this room were much heavier, their answers not meant for the public's eyes. Victus eyes widened as he stared down at his intruder, black eyes locking on the heavy hourglass grasped within the fox's hand.

Lattis was crying. Fingers clutched around either end of the ornate prophecy. Victus' heart skipped a beat as he realized that the fox wasn't clutching one of the newer prophecies. No. Lattis was holding that prophecy.

“How long." Lattis choked, gently hoisting the hourglass higher in both hands. Written by Victus' own hand, the elk needn't read it to know what the question had been. “H-How long have you been hiding this?"

Is the King dead?

A strong No. All of the sand had poured to the right.

Victus held his tongue. Speaking in front of the fox was only asking for trouble, and Clarity's hellfire was not something the elk wished to contend against.

“How long have you been hiding this?!" Lattis shouted, eyes alit with rage. “You told us all he died! You told us so yourself! To my very face! To our Council! How could you lie to me about this?!"

CRASH!

The hourglass shattered across the floor, the fox's hair standing on its end as the demon glowered at Victus. Clawed hands clutched at the air, as if the fox wanted to wrap his hands around the elk's neck. Victus stepped backwards as the fox let out a howl of anguish.

“All this time. I've been grieving! For no reason. What do you have to gain from this, Victus?! Help me understand why you would go so far as to betray us all l-like this? Please, Victus. Explain!" Lattis growled, foot stomping down on the broken glass. “Explain why I've been wasting the last three years of my life attacking the border in revenge when I SHOULD have been out there looking for my King?!"

Victus opened his mouth to speak, but closed his muzzle quickly. Talking to the fox would do no good. Hellfire rolled off of his orange fur in waves, a power far greater than Victus' emanating from the enraged hellbeast.

“Just talk to me, Victus! I want to hear your excuse. Come on! Why did you feel it was necessary to hide this? Hm?" Lattis pressed forward, forcing Victus to cautiously take two steps backwards. “Pry those lips apart, old man! I won't do anything funny, no, no. I still need you after all. Who else is going to fix this, hm?"

Victus hesitated, coming to a stop as the fox clutched at his own head. The fox snarled in frustration, tail swishing angrily before letting out another howl of anguish.

“DAMNIT! You've wasted so much time! So much of MY time! But now, ohoh, now… You're going to help me find him. With those little prophecies of yours. As many as it takes. For as long as it takes." Lattis snickered, clawed fingers running down the sides of his face. His eyes were wide, an unhinged chuckle emanating from the back of his throat. “A-And if you don't, ohoh. If you don't…"

The fox slowly locked eyes with Victus.

“I'll charm every single hellbeast of yours, and make them walk into the ocean. Starting with that precious little wolf of yours." Lattis spoke coldly, the unhinged expression on his face slowly dissipating beneath a mask of collectedness. “One by one, I'll sink them all. And then you'll be the Prince of Nothing. How does that sound, Victus?"

The elk simply glared back at Lattis as he watched the fox let out a whimper of a chuckle. Tears still streaked down the fox's fur as the hellbeast reached a hand out towards Victus.

“Now, if you don't mind. I think I'll be taking that key of yours from you. As a sign of our newfound agreement, of course." Lattis huffed, palm raising up as he spoke.

Hesitantly, Victus glanced at the key in his hand. Taking a deep breath, the elk slowly placed the metal key in the fox's grasp. Lattis snatched it up quickly, before turning on a dime. Tail raised high, the fox sauntered back down the aisle towards the exit. Free hand reaching out, the demon grabbed at his hourglass. Arm locked, Lattis let out a quick laugh as he knocked off prophecy after prophecy, letting each shatter across the floor in his wake.

“Take as long as you need, Victus!" Lattis shouted above the shattering of glass, head turning as he spoke. “You'll know if I'm not satisfied with your results when your people start disappearing!"

Victus listened to the sound of Lattis' laughter as it echoed through his chamber. The elk stood motionless, a feeling of deep regret washing over the Prince. He should have destroyed this knowledge, long ago. He should have cast it all away. Slumping over, Victus clutched at his own face. The Prince of Heed had failed.

Rhom awoke with a jolt. The wolf clutched at the bedding in front of him, claws raking across them as he let out a panicked gasp. A sense of failure rocked over the wolf as his eyes darted about. The hellbeast's haggard breaths slowing down as he realized where he was.

The bare room belonged to the living quarters of Ridgecrest castle. The wolf inhaled the familiar air and paused, ear's swiveling as he caught a rather familiar smell in the air.

“Victus?" Rhom asked, suddenly aware of the immense body pressed up behind him. Turning around, Rhom blinked in surprise. A massive elk, fur black as night, was asleep beside him. The naked hellbeast had not covered himself in the same sheets as Rhom, instead choosing to drape a blanket that proved far too small for his body. Rhom reached out towards the gently snoring demon, clawed hand pressing against the larger male's chest.

“You're…" The scout whispered, glancing up at the stubby antlers atop the man's head. Hellfire pushed off the demon's form in great waves, the oppressive sensation somewhat comforting to the wolf. A great calmness washed over Rhom as he ran his hand through the beast's fur, the wolf scooting closer as he buried his face in the elk's chest.

How long had he been gone? Clutching at the stag's fur, Rhom could feel the demon's hellfire entering him. Refueling him. He'd been drained completely. Left in the snow, by-

Rhom stiffened, pulling away from the elk with a sudden jerk. The hellbeast's snoring stopped abruptly, eyes opening as he watched Rhom flail out of bed.

“Rhom." The hellbeast rumbled, rubbing at his eyes as he sat upright. The small blanket rolled down his body as he reached out towards the wolf, ears lazily flicking about. “Rhom, come back to bed. You shouldn't be up yet."

“It's Lattis! Lattis was in charge of the siege. That fox was the one who-" Rhom huffed, searching about for his armor as he spoke. The clothing was nowhere to be found, the naked wolf snorting in anguish as he turned back to the elk.

“You can tell Victus yourself, but he's already assumed as much." The elk rumbled. The whites of his eyes shone brilliantly against the black of his fur, the bulky elk now pulling back the sheets as he motioned to Rhom. “Come to bed first. Everything's fine. Your rest comes first."

“Eoin." Rhom whispered, eyes squinting as he stared at the hellbeast. “I… How long have I been-"

“A few days." The writer explained. “Come back to bed, and ill tell you what happened."

Slowly, the wolf eased onto the bedding. Eoin held the blankets up, wrapping the wolf inside their warmth, even going as far as to tuck the blankets around Rhom's side. The wolf just stared at the elk, eyes darting across the man's corrupted form.

“You're different." Rhom stated, watching as the elk slowly sat back down atop the bed. “I didn't expect you to be taller than me."

“Victus says I've even more growing to do, though he also warned me not to go any further until I was sure I wanted to. He seemed to… speak from experience." Eoin replied, nestling his head into the mountain of pillows below.

“You're not all twitchy anymore, either." Rhom smiled to himself. “In fact, I'd say you've really grown into those hooves of yours."

“Oh, I've still plenty a twitch, Rhom." The elk replied, raising a clawed hand up between them. The beast lifted his palm off the bedding, clawed fingers visibly trembling. “I'm just bigger. I assume it's… Harder to notice when I'm twice the size."

“When did this happen?" Rhom asked, curiosity piquing as he wormed his way a little closer. The hellfire wafting off of Eoin felt nice, and helped to loosen the soreness in his joints. “You know… All that fur, and fluff."

“I found you out there, in the snow." Eoin began, letting his hand drop to the bedding between them. “I was so scared. The mirror, and that bull. I couldn't petrify him, but I did… freeze him. And the mirror, too. With ice. It's hard to explain, but-"

The elk stopped talking as Rhom pressed his face against his chest. Eoin looked down at the wolf and smiled. One hand reaching out, Eoin let his trembling fingers run through Rhom's fur. He watched as the wolf's ears flicked about with each of Eoin's exhales, Rhom's breath warm against his chest.

“I got to meet Tan again. For a second I thought he was going to lock me up, but I think I got through to him. Did you know he knew Victus?" Eoin asked, smiling to himself as he watched Rhom shake his head in confirmation. “Well then. I think I'll start from the beginning, right before I found you. Yeah?"

Another shake of the head. Eoin took a deep breath before exhaling once more, smiling warmly as the wolf's ears flicked against his fur.

“And that's when I brought you back here. Even after giving you all of that paste, you were still unconscious. The other demon's told me to bring you to Victus, while they finished cleaning things up." Eoin prattled on, staring at the comfortable looking wolf as he spoke. “The beasts under Vim were so different than the one's here, Rhom. It kind of scared me for a while, when I faced them near the Keep. I kept thinking, am I going to be like that one day? For a while, all I had were Victus and you, and both of you seemed pretty… Uh, nice. And now I know it's not just the two of you either, but all of Heed's people. Well. Maybe not all of them. That snake kept prodding at me."

“Keeper?" Rhom asked, his voice still muffled in Eoin's fur. “He's harmless."

“B-But he looks like a snake. Where I come from, snake's were always bad business." Eoin explained, ears folded back as he remembered the demon's invasive line of questioning.

“You're going to have to get over that one pretty quick, Eoin." Rhom chuckled, pulling himself even closer against the soft elk.

The two smiled as they held one another, the conversation dying down as the two simply basked in one another's presence. Eoin swallowed tightly as he felt the corruption thrum strongly within him. It was the silence that made it hard to hold back, his hands gently squeezing at Rhom's hips as he massaged the wolf.

“You know… Eoin." Rhom huffed, pressing back against the elk's hands. “You don't smell nearly as bad as you used to."

“That's good." The writer stated, gripping the wolf tighter in an attempt to quell his trembling. “For a while I was worried you didn't like being around me."

“Well… I am a little miffed that you beat the bull and I didn't." The wolf admitted. “Maybe it's time I took Victus up on his offer to find me a real trainer. Like, a real trainer. From the Prince of Vaunt."

“Victus offered me the same thing last night." Eoin explained, his hands sliding even lower as his mind strayed. He'd barely known how to use his powers, and it was his lack of understanding that could very well have been his end. “Instinct can… Only take us so far, Rhom."

The wolf was quiet, back arching against Eoin's cupped hands. Eoin blinked as he realized where his hands had taken him, both palms gripping at Rhom's bare ass. Their sheets lay bunched between their groins, bare chests pressed together as they idly ground at the fabric between their hips.

“I-" Eoin began, hands jerking away from the wolf. “Sorry. I, uh. I guess I just-"

“It's alright, Eoin." Rhom began, hands sliding off the elk as he watched the large elk sit up. “You said you would when you're ready, right? Well…"

Eoin stood up, body facing away from Rhom to hide his arousal. It pulsed in the air in front of him, round balls swaying like a pendulum between heavy legs. The author glanced back at the wolf, who now lay sprawled out across the bed. The muscled wolf, sleek and lithe, had one hand over his arousal. Clawed fingers swirled against his sheathe, the tip of his red shaft sliding up against the bedding. Eoin swallowed as he quickly reached for the blanket that had fallen off his body, hands fumbling as he wrapped the undersized fabric around his waist.

“I. I, uh. I need to do s-something first. Before I-" Eoin began, almost tripping over his own hooves as he made his way towards the door.

Rhom just smiled, still idly teasing at his sheathe. The wolf looked so comfortable in that bedding, tail lazily wagging as he smiles at Eoin.

“Take your time, Eoin." The wolf said calmly, hips arching against his fingers. “You know where I'll be."

T H I R T E E N -

In Which An Author Confronts Their Fate

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, The Prince of Heed's Quarters

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Cusp, Second afternoon.

The doors to Victus' throne room were quickly swung open, the elk's gaze turning upwards to meet the eyes of a familiar hellbeast. Eoin stormed through his doorway, the naked elk glaring with determination at the Prince before him. Between them, Keeper stood with hands folded, the snake having just been interrupted mid-sentence.

“Victus! We need to talk." Eoin huffed, his voice sounding strange in his swiveling ears as it echoed through the barren chamber.

“Ah. If it isn't Eoin. I take it that Rhom is doing well?" Victus asked, gesturing with one hand to dismiss the snake beside him. The snake bowed, turning on his heel to promptly exit the chamber.

“He's-" Eoin began, pausing as Keeper walked past him. The two traded glances with one another, Eoin's ears swiveling as he tried to stomach his nerves around the snake. “He's fine, Victus."

The doors behind the elk slowly shut as the snake quietly made his exit, the two hellbeasts staring one another down in the silence.

“Victus, I need answers. Or at least, explanations." Eoin began, placing a hand to his chest as he spoke. “If I'm going to stay here, and serve under you, I need to know if I can trust you."

Heed remained quiet, the somber expression on the elk's face giving away little emotion. Eoin had half expected the elk to say something, the silence between them pervading longer than the new demon would have liked.

“That Paladin. Across the way?" Eoin asked, jabbing a claw in the direction of the barrier. “He knew you. He said you were the one who told him to burn all those books. How could you do that? Why would you do that? For a moment, I think I'd been shaken by who you were. But now, I'm shaken because I don't know who you are. The Yorwick I knew never would have sacrificed-"

“Yorwick is dead. I buried that name long ago." Victus finally spoke, brow furrowing at the mention of his name. “A hundred years, I gave them. They argued that my texts should be safeguarded behind lock and key, only to be granted access to those who sought out said knowledge. I argued that they would inevitably find their way into the hands of those that would seek to abuse this information. I offered a resolution we both could agree to. A hundred years. If the knowledge I'd safeguarded could not be contained and protected, then they would destroy every copy that-"

“But. That doesn't make any sense!" Eoin snorted. “What did you find out about the Corruption that made you change your mind?"

“Eoin, I-" The Prince began, voice lowering.

“It's a book, Yorwick. Your work! What could be so dangerous about it? I read them, didn't I? And I turned out fine!" Eoin scoffed. “This-"

“Fine?" The Prince asked, voice wavering. “Fine?! Just look at yourself, Eoin! You're corrupted! Just like the rest of us!"

“So?" Eoin scoffed. “That has nothing to do with-"

“It has everything to do with it!" The Prince bellowed, slamming a hoof against the ground. His voice echoed through the chamber as he let out a snort of frustration. “This corruption is far more than you comprehend, boy! Your book is proof enough of this! Your romantic tint of this corruption was the same as mine! A burning curiosity for something we don't understand. An allure, a desire... To cast aside the society that rules us, to be free. But what about after, Eoin? Look around! Look at how empty my streets are. This land is lawless, and broken! What I do here, is a vain attempt to bring some level of meaning to these people's lives! All in an effort to mask the insatiable appetite of the corruption that lurks within this land. It's using us, Eoin. It's a force of power you haven't even begun to witness."

“These are all excuses!" Eoin yelled back. “You act like the corruption is the end of civilization, but look at you here! I've met your people, Victus. You're functioning. Alive. The corruption-"

“The corruption is alive, Eoin! Not as we understand it, but it breathes. It has a pulse, and it lives within all of us. We are the vessel's of a disease that wishes control over everything. Dominance is not freedom to all. It is absolute freedom for the few. To the one in charge!" Victus muttered, his words filled with spite. “I sought answers, and in my dreams, I received them. The corruption, the King, is the only one who truly wins."

“And you burnt your books because of some idiotic ideology that-" Eoin began.

“I told them to burn my books because idiots like YOU might read them, and get the wrong impression!" Victus bellowed. “Look at what you brought into the world! And I? I inspired you? Your book is a flowery, romanticized depiction of what's truly at stake here! How many people do you think will soften to the notion of corruption upon reading your text? How many people do you think I've led down this very path?"

“You led me down here, hypocrite!" Eoin pointed out. “You actively told me to run over here! Or was there a different reason for you making me risk my life? And yet, here I am! Willing to put all that behind me, because I like it here, and because I thought you made a good choice. I've had more freedom in your domain than I ever felt back home! The corruption-"

“Hasn't even finished taking hold of you, Eoin!" Victus rumbled, eyes narrowing as he looked down his nose at the elk before him. “Pray tell, why haven't you let it have its way with you? What are you afraid of? You've yet to fully submit. Both to me, and the King. But this is not a power that asks nicely for submission. It demands it."

“I don't see you demanding I swear loyalty." Eoin scoffed in defiance, folding his arms as he spoke. “You're different from this… King. And if he cared so much, why isn't he out there corrupting the rest of the kingdom? Why'd he stop, Victus? He took Ridgecrest, Mathase, and Shimmerlake in such a short amount of time, but the war-times seemed to stop. What happened, Victus?"

“We don't. Know." Heed muttered, leaning back in his seat with a deflating sigh. The elk put a hand to his head. “I- None of the Prince's know. Around three years ago, he went tearing off through the barrier, but he hadn't come back since. I… Lied. To the other Prince's. I forged a prophecy. I told them all he'd died, but that's far from the truth. I'd hoped… That it would be my chance to calm the drums of war. And it had. I was prepared for the Demon King to come back, and throw me into the sea himself for such transgressions. And yet… He hasn't returned."

“So he's missing? Or… captured? Isn't that good? That means no one is in charge, right?" Eoin asked, his rage subsiding as he looked at the forlorn expression on Victus' face.

“The King. Put Lattis in charge. In his 'momentary absence'. Lattis is also… The only one to be refuting such a statement. The King and Lattis were always close, though no Prince seems to be in a rush to doubt the fox's position as acting leader." Victus muttered, squeezing at his brow as he spoke. “However. I believe Lattis has never truly trusted me. I can't blame him for that. If this attack on my Keep truly was his doing, then I know what his true intentions were. In truth, Eoin, I… I've already failed."

“What?" Eoin asked, frowning as he stared at the Prince. “What do you mean?"

“The Prince knows, Eoin. He uncovered my lie, and now he's threatened my domain in an attempt to make me help him. He wants to find the King. And he needs my prophecies." Victus rumbled, defeat dripping from his voice. “I must comply, for the sake of my people."

“But… Surely…" Eoin began, taking a hesitant step towards the Prince. “Surely you can prolong this process. I-I could help. Somehow. What if we found a way to get rid of Lattis? We could-"

Victus laughed at that, his tone soft and saddened. The elk smiled as he turned his head up, looking Eoin in the eyes. “You? Surely you hate me at this point, what with all of the horrible things i've just thrown your way."

“You're the first person who disagreed with me with words, and hasn't tried to imprison or petrify me. Sure, you called me an idiot, and, yeah, we can disagree about your terrible decision to burn your collection… But that doesn't mean I'm going to abandon you. Maybe I can even, I don't know, change your mind." Eoin stated, rather optimistically. “About the corruption. About everything, really. I don't know about you, but the King of Heed sounds like a much better title."

“That's heresy, Eoin." Victus spoke with a frown, rolling his eyes at the elk's brazen statement. “Speak of such things outside of my chambers and expect consequences."

“So… That's a yes, right?" The hellbeast asked, tail twitching as he stood in front of Victus. “You'll let me help you find a way out of all of this?"

“Yes, yes." Victus' approval rumbled gutteraly as he sunk into his throne, trinkets dangling atop his antlers. “Now, if you'll be going… Send Rhom my way at your earliest convenience."

“With all due respect, my Prince." Eoin began, the words feeling strange in his mouth. “I'm afraid Rhom won't be available for quite a while."

“Hm?" Victus hummed, rising from his deflated position slightly as he arched a brow at the elk before him. “And why is that?"

“Well. You see. I…" Eoin continued, fidgeting for the right words as hellfire flared up within him. “I'd like to spend some personal time with him first. He needs his rest, and I don't think-"

“Go." Victus ordered, waving a hand at Eoin. A small smile curled on the weathered stag's lips as he gave a knowing nod. “Don't let me keep you waiting."

The doors to Victus' chambers were swung open as Eoin stepped out. His hooves echoed across the smooth stone floor, the demon's eyes darting about as he stole a glance of the frozen city beyond. The frost that covered the windowsill was thawing, light glinting across the rooftops of the silent city. This was his home now. Eoin shuddered at the realization, his pace quickening as he headed down the hall.

He'd hoped for answers. Ones that he could stomach, and hopefully help alleviate his troubled thoughts. Lattis. The King. Heed. Eoin shuddered as a wave of hellfire rolled through him. He wanted to help, but he didn't know how. Not yet, at least. He needed training. Experience.

Power.

Eoin took an exhilarating breath as he let out a snort, shoulders broadening as he made his way back to the common quarters. With each inhale, he could feel himself draw in more of the hellfire. It coursed through him, and this time, Eoin didn't hold back.

“I'm ready." Eoin grunted, horns thickening atop his head as he stared down the end of the hall. His whole body was tensing with power, corruption digging deeper than it ever had.

Writer. Thief. Rebel. Eoin cast the terms behind him as he sniffed at the air. Tongue sliding across the front of his teeth, the demon reached out and gripped the door in front of him.

A single snort. A stomp of his hoof. The demon could feel his muscles pop and twitch as the hellfire continued to pour in. Twisting the knob, Eoin let out a rumble of anticipation.

Rhom was waiting for him.

F O U R T E E N -

In Which The Stag Greets His Mate

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, Living Quarters of the Ridgecrest Castle

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Cusp, Second afternoon.

“I'm ready."

The stag's voice was more of a deep rumble than anything else, words slurring in his mouth as hellfire coursed through his veins.

Rhom, still splayed out on the bed, turned to meet the male's hungry gaze. He hadn't expected the elk to return so soon, the wolf's form still half-obscured within the soft bedding. Rolling onto his stomach, head angling back to look at the looming elk behind him, Rhom gently pulled the sheets off of his body. The wolf's rear was arched slightly into the air, tail wagging as he let the elk gaze upon him.

All those nights, Eoin had refused to let his eyes linger on the wolf. But today was different. Tail lifted slightly, the wolf's raised his rump even higher for the elk.

“About time." Rhom spoke at last, voice softer in his own ears. The hellfire that rolled off of Eoin seemed to lick at the wolf's body, corrupted magic curling around the two. The elk's presence seemed to emanate from his corner of the room, heavy chest rising and falling as he drank in the sight of Rhom splayed before him.

“Indeed." Eoin uttered, tone resonating clearly beneath the rumbling of his chest. His tongue was no longer catching awkwardly in his muzzle, and with each breath, the elk could feel his muzzle broaden.

“It seems I'm changing again, Rhom." The elk continued, smooth bass echoing through the room as he spoke. “Tell me. What should I expect?"

The shifting demon took a deep breath, nostrils flaring as his lungs filled with air. The whites of his eyes slowly ran over the lithe wolf, drinking in the sight of the scout who had saved him.

“I don't know. I've never..." Rhom responded, eyes trained on the elk's chest. His voice still sounded tender and quiet in his ears, as if the wolf was shrinking back beneath the strength of the corruption wafting over him. Eoin's hellfire was powerful, even from this distance. It was inviting. Bold. The wolf simply stared at the powerful demon behind him. “I don't…"

“What's wrong, Rhom?" The stag spoke up, a strange tightness welling up within him as he felt the corruption push deeper.

“It's nothing, Eoin. I'm just-" Rhom began, shuddering as he watched the elk take a single step towards him. Hellfire wrapped around his body, clinging to his fur. Each breath the wolf took felt like a gasp, anticipation mounting as he felt his tail hike higher. “I haven't felt this way in a long time."

“Is that so?" The stag asked, coming to a stop at the foot of Rhom's bed. The elk could feel the frost on the window, black ice slowly pushing out to encase the glass completely. His connection was growing stronger, the corruption wafting off the wolf in front of him inviting the stag closer. “And what exactly are you feeling?"

“Nervous? Excited." The wolf began, tail lifting as the bedding beneath dipped under the elk's weight. The pit in Rhom's stomach leapt as he felt the demon's hands curl around his hips, raised ass poised for the taking. Rhom let out a soft huff as gentle palms pressed into his fur, steady grip guiding the wolf back.

Eoin's sheathe nestled against the wolf's cheeks, the plump groin pulsating between them. A sense of pride washed over the elk as he watched the wolf hike its tail higher. The corruption within him surged forward, the stag's hips widening as his body filled with power. His reservations were melting away, revealing a deep and aching need for the wolf in front of him.

He should have pressed himself upon the wanton wolf long ago. The elk should have taken Rhom a dozen times over by now, forced the wolf to wear his scent proudly. Eoin snorted as he watched his cervine member slide from its sheath. Plump. Warm. The proud member gently bobbed in the air before pressing against the wolf's cheeks. The weight of his fattened member weighed heavy against Rhom's rear, corruption wafting off of Eoin's form as the two basked in their hellfire.

The hands that clutched at his sides were strong, steady grip holding him close. Eoin had succumbed for him. The thrill in that was unlike any the wolf had felt before. Rhom clutched at the sheets as he felt his tail start to wag, excitement getting the better of him. He'd bent over for many in his life, old and new demon alike. But with Eoin, this all felt… different. The stag had chosen him. a sense of pride welling within the wolf as he splayed out for Eoin.

Eoin now loomed above Rhom, arms bulking as he slowly tightened his grip on the wolf. In one clean motion, the canine's backside was hoisted into the air. Canine member slipping free of his sheathe, Rhom gasped as he felt a warm tongue slide against his taint. Opening his mouth to speak, the wolf's words were lost immediately as he felt the demon's muzzle slide upwards. Over and over again, Rhom clenched as he felt the demon tease at his entrance. The wolf let out a huff of pleasure, clenching in surprise as Eoin suddenly pushed deeper.

Lick after lick, Rhom shuddered in delight. The stag was taking his time, making sure to leave his mate stretched and wanting. The wolf could feel his knot slipping from his sheathe as he pressed his thighs around the elk's head.

“Eoin. I-" Rhom began, squirming as he felt the stag's powerful tongue coax his opening wider. “Gosh, don't stop. You're amazing."

The elk let out a prideful snort, muscles bulging as he pulled Rhom closer against him. Eoin's ministrations were slow, steady grip unwavering as he buried his pushed closer. The musk of his mate was driving him wild, the masculine scent filling his mind with burdened desire. His tongue pushed deeper as he buried his muzzle between the wolf's plump cheeks, lapping with newfound intensity. Rhom was melting in his hands, the limber canine arching back against his face with wanton need. Eoin could feel pawing at his groin, needy hands squeezing at his fattened shaft as he prepared his mate.

Eoin slowly pulled his head back, thick tongue sliding against his muzzle as he licked at the open air. The plush rear in front of the stag was still tensing, his thumb testing against the plyable ring in front of him. Slowly, Eoin pressed the digit inside, watching in awe at how easily the canine accepted the invasive finger. Tail wagging, Rhom let out a whine of need as Eoin went knuckle deep.

Eoin snorted in satisfaction as he admired his handiwork, finger curling as he felt Rhom tighten longingly at his finger. The stag smiled as he milked the wolf's prostate, a long-winded whine escaping the canine's muzzle.

Rhom was ready for him.

“Turn over." Eoin began, lowering Rhom onto the bedding as he spoke. “I need to look you in the eyes."

Rhom obliged, tail wagging as he rolled over to face the demon. The wolf was surprised to find the stag already crawling over him, lips quickly pressed up against his. Rhom melted into the kiss as Eoin ground their hips together, slick shafts pressed tightly between their bodies. The stag shoved his tongue deeper, letting out a series of satisfied snorts as he bore deeper. The elk was still growing, back muscles broadening as he hunched over his mate. Ears swiveling, the stag shuddered as he felt his spine begin to pop and crack. Lifting up, the elk let out a proud snort. His chest was rounding, pectorals bulging as he grabbed at Rhom's leg.

“Yew want this?" Eoin asked, lifted up the wolf's leg with ease as he pressed his shaft against the demon's relaxed pucker.

“M-Mhm." Rhom panted, letting out another forced whine as he pressed close to his mate. “Let me… Be your first."

Eoin bore down over the wolf as he arched his hips. Inch after inch of corruption entered Rhom, sending the canine shuddering in delight. He was thicker than he imagined, ring stretching wide around the pulsating girth spreading him open. The fullness that eased into Rhom enkindled a sensation he'd long since ignored, prostate thrumming with delight as the stag's corrupted cock slid deeper. Squeezing. Gasping. The wolf let out a whine as he reached out, paws curling around Eoin's antlers. The sensations coursing through him were almost too much to handle, greedy claws clutching to Eoin as he arched back against the buck.

“That's-" Rhom began, pushing himself back against Eoin's arousal as he gasped. “I need it. A-All of it."

The stag's powerful muscles tensed as he leaned in closer, soft lips pressing against the wolf's neck as Eoin bore deeper into him. The massive deer let out a snort as he bottomed out in his wolf, lifting his head slightly to stare down into Rhom's dazed eyes.

“Happy?" Eoin asked, hand squeezing around the leg still firmly propped up in his hand.

Rhom's leg tensed against Eoin's tender grip, a whine escaping the demon's lips as he clenched around the shaft within him. The wolf stared back at his mate as he recollected himself, tongue lolling out of his maw as he panted with need.

“Y-You're still holding back." Rhom began, trembling as he milked the cock he'd been skewered on. “I-I can take it."

“It's not a matter of if you can take it." Eoin huffed back, his calm demeanor flickering as Rhom squeezed around his shaft once more. “It's a matter of h-how good this feels. I need to better-"

The wolf clenched again in response, ass tensing as he stared into Eoin's eyes. The elk almost buckled as he let out a grunt of surprise, arousal throbbing against Rhom's ministrations.

“Did you forget?" The wolf asked, tugging at Eoin's antlers in an effort to weigh the stag down. Rhom licked his lips as he watched the black of his mate's eyes gently begin to spread outwards. Craning his head forward, the wolf let his tongue lap at the wet nose in front of him. “You're a demon now. You don't need to hold back."

Eoin gasped as the corruption building within him suddenly burst outwards, as if an unknown muscle had finally been allowed to relax. The whites of his eyes disappeared completely, pitch black gaze staring down at the smiling wolf beneath him. Huffing, shaking, the elk could feel a deep moan threaten to escape his lips. His fate had been sealed, his inhibitions broken. The stag shuddered as he felt his cock surge. Lips curling, a deep and throaty bellow escaped Eoin's muzzle, hips mashing even tighter against his mate's ass as he buckled forward. The soft warmth around his member clenched with each pulse, seed coursing through his member as he succumbed to his own pleasures. Hot seed gushed deep within the wolf as Eoin's hips frantically began to grind back and forth. The orgasm that rocked through the demon only seemed to further his desires, cum slick cock sliding back and forth with newfound rhythm. The wolf beneath him was panting, letting out soft huffs of delight with each smack of their hips.

Their balls mashed together as Eoin buried himself deep within Rhom once more, letting out another bellow as he found his first orgasm cascade into a second. Body coursing with hellfire, Eoin stared down at the wolf beneath. Squirming, panting in rhythm to his own thrusts, Rhom stared back in equal bliss. Hands still gripping at his antlers, the wolf let out a snarl as his cock bobbed in the air between them.

“K-Keep going." Rhom encouraged, clenching tightly around the stag's shaft. “U-Until I-I'm full. Keep going."

Rhom cradled the curve of his bloated gut, stomach sloshing with each thrust of the stag's powerful hips. Eoin hilted once more with a forceful grunt, nostrils flaring as he let out a snort of satisfaction. He was cumming, pulsating balls growing larger as he pumped another fresh load into his wolf. The elk placed a demonic hand atop Rhom's gut, exhaling with pride as he felt his cock thrum within the wolf. Pulse after pulse of warm seed pooled deep into the demon, the wolf's breathing calm and collected. Their needs had slowly settled from their frenzy, and the two had found a new pace. Time and time again, they had pulled close to one another, rocking gently as they kissed and ground as one. Each time, Eoin would find his climax, the wolf's own cock drooling as it tried to keep up with the elk's potent release. Rhom had yet to go so many rounds in a row with a demon before, the two panting as they basked in their own corruption.

Spurt after spurt of warm seed had filled Rhom, the pregnant-looking wolf panting loudly as he felt Eoin's cock subside within him once more. He'd brought himself to orgasm over a dozen times, yet the corruption rolling off Eoin begged the two to keep going. The need to mate, to revel in Eoin's newfound hellfire, seemed to enkindle their stamina over and over again. Rhom ran a demonic hand across his bloated, cum-slick belly. Rivulets of seed drooled down his hand as he lifted the palm, smearing his load across Eoin's muzzle. The demon breeding him let out a snort of satisfaction, tongue curling between Rhom's fingers as he licked at their mess.

“Eventually, we're going to have to stop." Rhom huffed, fingers tickled by the stag's messy kisses across his hand. “You know that, right?"

“Eventually, yes." The stag offered, nestling close against the wolf splayed against him. Burly arms wrapped around Rhom, the two demon's embracing as they closed their eyes. “But I want to savor this moment."

E P I L O G U E -

In Which The Motion Is Set

The Fallen City of Ridgecrest, The Prince of Heed's Bedchambers

The Fifth of Onward, Fourth Cusp, Second evening.

“Keep?"

“Yes, my Prince?"

Both author and advisor sat nestled close, soft sheets draped across their forms. Modest corruption coiled in the air around them, though the scent of their arousal seemed positively drowned out by the corruption emanating from down the corridor. The hellfire of a freshly corrupted demon was something no demon could resist, second-hand revelry coursing through the two as they basked in both afterglows.

“At your leisure, and with the utmost care, I must ask you to gather some demons for me." Victus commanded, one hand stroking the curve of the snake's hip. “I can give you a few names, but the rest, you'll have to search out on your own."

“It's been a while since you've summoned anyone. Are you erecting Ridgecrest's mirror again?" Keeper asked, pressing even closer against the burly stag as he spoke.

“Yes. Since… Lattis. Will be making himself at home here. I no longer have a need to hide." Victus huffed, lowering his shoulder to better let Keeper rest his snout beside the elk's neck. “My isolation is ending, Keeper. And with it, I can longer keep potential allies at bay."

“May I ask who?" The snake asked, hissing gently as he felt the stag cup at his thigh.

“Any and all who that Prince may have slighted. I can give you a list of all those I know, influential and otherwise. But the rest, my dear Keeper… You must find on your own."

The Prince of Heed's solemn tone carried through the bedchambers, a sadness filling the snake's heart as he pressed close to his Prince.

“You're not really going to do as he says, are you?" Keeper asked, lifting his head slightly to look into the demon's somber eyes. “His threats are empty, and we can always-"

“They are not empty." Victus interrupted, staring deep into the serpent's eyes before him.

A silence filled the room as the two gazed at one another. Slowly, the elk leaned close to the snake, two fingers gently propping up Keeper's chin.

“You'll have quite the task set out in front of you. Lattis must never hear of what I've asked of you." Victus began, muzzle inches away from the snake's mouth. “You know of what I ask, yes?"

“Yes." Keeper nodded slowly as he choked out the response. “I do."

The two embraced, demons clasped tight around one another as they kissed. Keeper tried to push back the pit of sadness welling in him, clutching at the elk before him. Such a task would take years to execute without word reaching Lattis' ears. The patient gathering would require trust, something not often fostered within the realm of demons. Clarity would have his kept locked on Heed. Victus… His Prince… Was asking him of all demons to embark on such a journey.

“Where shall I head first?" Keeper asked, pulling away slightly as bittersweet emotions toiled within him.

“The Prince of Vaunt." Victus explained, giving the snake a reassuring smile as he wiped a thumb across the demon's cheek. “She is isolated... And also seeking her own justice in all of this."

“When should I leave?" The snake asked, leaning down to wrap as much of himself around the Prince. Keeper knew he had to make the most of his remaining time here.

“When the mirror is ready. You'll be taking the 'passionate two'." Victus explained, lips curling ever so slightly as he paused. “As much fun as it must be to revel in his newfound power, the two need training. Discipline. Vaunt is the only one I trust to do so properly."

“A wonderful idea." Keeper smiled back, kissing at his Prince's chest. “Maybe she'll even kick that young stag into line."

“Him?" Victus blinked in surprise, both hands reaching out to pull Keeper atop him. The two nestled close, soft bed sheets slipping off their naked forms as they gently ground together. “It might take years to break that buck in."

“We've got time." Keeper offered, feeling heat roll off the elk's groin behind him. Arching back, the snake's slid his hands along the demon's chest. Clutching. Kissing. Tongue dragging across the elk's pecs, the serpent gently eased down on the sheathe below.

“Time, yes. But we must… Keep moving." Victus replied through clenched teeth, firm chest rumbling as he pushed back against the demon. “Remember that, Keeper. We must always keep moving."

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