“Oh. Good.” Arachne made a note to press for details when Eva was up to talking at length.
The ball of blood scrunched up into a bubbling ball before spreading out again.
Arachne nodded to Eva as she stood up. She could feel it as well. Taking a protective position over Eva, Arachne directed her gaze in the direction the blood arrow indicated. She doubted the pathetic lust demon would be able to get through Eva’s shield in any reasonable amount of time, but Arachne would protect her master no matter what.
Not that the demon was supposed to be their enemy.
Was it too much to hope that the succubus would try to attack?
Aftermath
Elves. Loathsome beasts. They always found a way to disgust. Wallowing in their own filth as they served their human masters. Slaves without chains.
Every elf read the works of Tolkien as they grew up. Since their fall, they dressed themselves up after the elves of Middle-earth. Mannered themselves as wise and nature oriented.
An attempt at endearing themselves to humans.
Catherine couldn’t help but think it was mildly successful. The humans seemed to trust them enough.
Pandering their once great race to the whims of mortals.
Not that they had much choice. ‘Once great’ was a very literal term.
They were a dying species and they knew it.
All newborn elves were mortal. They might enjoy some longevity from their ancestors, but nothing significant. Every immortal elf that died from combat was an irreplaceable loss to their race.
Elves lost the magic that made them unique. The magic that made them better than mortals. Forced instead to learn the magic of the mundane to have any power at all.
Without their unique magic, the only thing left of their race and culture was their knowledge of unnatural plants and cultivation techniques. They kept the secrets to themselves while offering remedies to humans.
They clung to any scrap of relevance they could get, even if it meant associating themselves with those beneath them.
Of course, they could no longer consider themselves above mortals.
A testament to the fate of those who lost their Power.
A shudder ran up Catherine’s spine. Void terrified her. On one hand, He gave out everything a demon could ever desire. Their domains. Shaped by every whim and fancy to strike the owning demon. Taken a step too far.
Nothing to hope for. Nothing to yearn for.
Demons could freely move to other domains. Few ever did. Subjecting oneself to the whims of others within their own domains tended to wind up poorly.
Then there was Void’s namesake.
Void.
A demon’s death condemned a demon to the exact opposite. Rather than everything, there was nothing. Absolute nothingness. No stimuli save for the dalliances of one’s own mind. A mind that may not be entirely intact depending on how the demon met her demise.
Catherine had only died once. Slain in the humans’ sixteenth century after enthralling a small village. Everything had been going so well before…
Another tremor tore through Catherine.
She still didn’t know if she escaped the Void through conscious action on her part or if she had been let go.
Not an experience she was eager to repeat in either case.
Despite the cruelty He inflicted upon demons, Catherine would fight fang and claw for Him should He require. All demons would. Losing their patron Power would subject their race to near extinction.
Like the elves.
Catherine tried to keep the sneer of disgust off her face as the milky-eyed elf looked over the charred human.
His silver circlet glinted as he moved around the table. The flowing white dress he wore drifted in some imaginary breeze. Every motion he made was filled with more grace than a contortionist during sex.
Nothing like the fearsome warriors and conquerers Catherine had personally seen several millennia in the past.
“This one is far worse than the last one,” the elf’s flowery voice said as he turned his eyes to Catherine.
She clenched her teeth together. “Can you fix him?” Catherine ground out.
“Fear not, young one–”
Catherine did not consider herself violent. There were far more satisfying things to do with mortals than pulling them apart. That didn’t stop her from occasionally getting the urge to do just that. Especially when the elf gave her that patronizing smile.
She had to shut her eyes to retain control.
“It will take time, but his burns will mend with our aid.”
“Great. Brakket Academy will pay for whatever.”
Catherine tried to turn and leave before she did something she would regret. A polite clearing of the elf’s throat stopped her.
“If I might ask,” his flowery voice said, “what caused these burns?”
