The severed head of Askathstral screamed curses in languages too old for mortal ears. Guttural, roiling words that caused Philippa to clutch her ears at the sound of psychic assault. With a gentle roll the shrieking skull came to rest on its side and lay motionless on the ground several feet from its torso. Without its mind to sustain it, the demon's body began to rapidly dissolve back into the sticky tar-like substance leaving behind only the beating human heart.

Divina took a deep breath, knowing that whatever happened from this point —whatever trials and tribulations followed this fateful decision— she had undertaken the harder path. What Akkoni had always called ‘the Third Way’. She raised her head to the sky and mouthed a silent prayer. As if an immense weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she turned to Phillipa and smiled as wide as any smile could. She then jammed the tip of her sword into the dirt and walked towards the girl who starred her eyes wide in disbelief.

“What have you done, Divina?” She wailed. Her voice had been run hoarse. “Finish it. I’m ready”

“The goddess would not have saved you today, just to have me kill you. No, there is always a third way.” She held out her uninjured hand. “Where is my knife?”

The young girl looked dumbfounded at the question. Divina handed Philippa a number of clean rags that she produced from a pouch on her belt.

“Get up and dress your wounds. We have work to do.”

The witch-girl pushed herself up on her good arm gingerly. Though good was still relative, the clawed beasts had done quite a number on both of her arms and legs. She took the rags and began winding them firmly around her wounds with some help from Divina.

“My knife?” Repeated Divina. “The one I gave you earlier. Where is it?”

Philippa gestured towards the beast she had killed earlier. Divina made her way to find it next to the beast's unmoving form as Askathstral’s incomprehensible screams of demonic rage rang out through darkness.

“There is another way.” The older girl took the dagger and with a minuscule amount of will and purpose, she infused the blade with a thin film of radiant holy energy. It wasn’t a lot but the small blade was forged of rare metals that channeled divine energies with ease. It was enough to achieve its purpose. She lowered the blade into what remained of the demon’s chest cavity and then made several careful and measured slices and then produced the knife. Its divine energy was now slowly fading and it was covered in the black shimmering ichor.

“What are you doing?” Philippa had managed to make her way towards the demon’s torso. She was now watching what was happening with a morbid fascination.

“Ahhhhh, There is no other way!” Askathstral words were stained with panic. “Your teacher lied, Paladin”

Divina answered Philippa, ignoring the empty words. “We cannot let this demon reform its physical body.” She began.

The flames around them grew hotter as the roof of the old general store collapsed into the building with a crash that rang out through the forest.

“What are you going to do?” Phillipa asked.

“I’ve decided you need a proper arcane education.” Divina wiped the blade across her thigh, removing most of the tar from it and sheathing it in a single swift motion. “I’m about to give you your first formal magic lesson.” The flames roared brighter. “But we must do it with swiftness or this fire may kill us before we have the chance.”

Divina reached her hand into the decimated body cavity again and with a short sharp tug produced the heart, surprisingly intact. It was covered in strange twisting tendrils that showed the bonds that tied both Philippa and Askathstral’s life-force together. They remained despite the demon losing its grip on reality.

“What do you mean—?” Philippa began.

“My apprentices listen when I am giving a lesson.” The Paladin rebuked. “If you are my student, you should do the same.”

Silent surprise hit the girl and she reverently paid attention.

Divina took another length of cloth from her pouch and showed Philippa. She could see that it was plain white damask with golden threads woven into the fabric in a regular pattern. “This is a fabric that is crafted at the temple of Ilk-Lem-Ardorn,” she explained, a note of pride in her voice. “It has many uses in divine magic, but for now we will use it to trap dark energies.” She carefully wrapped it around the living organ gripped in her hand. Once it was completely covered, she examined it for any possible gaps. Once satisfied, she said, “We’re going to seal this demonic relic inside an abjuration spell. To be precise, we will be using a seven-sigil-seal.” The words were spoken with a calm, collected confidence, as if she had always been meant to teach the lesson. “We will begin by drawing the seven seals.” She produced a thin ink pen with a fine brush-tip from her pouch and marked the end of the cloth with seven unique sigils. They formed a neat little star between each point.

“Ahhhhhh,” the demon screamed, any indication of its composure gone. “No! I will kill you for this.”