By all the imps of the seven echelons! Peadar was beyond angry. He stared at the rusted iron bars of the devilord's dungeon, his rage bubbling and coiling in his belly akin to the red desert snakes. And like the fanged reptilian creature, his cold heart was crying out for vengeance. He fought, he bled and now he was cuffed no better than a petty criminal. Peadar remembered well, the guards descended upon him like a pack of hungry raaptyrs, yellow helmets glistening under the artificial sun, spears and swords pointed at him, begging for a sip of his asar blood.

Justice! The town people cried, as if he did not just deliver it. They spat at him as he was carried off, bound in magical rope. Justice indeed, Peadar thought. Spitting the muck the guards called food onto the dust covered floor.

The walls around him seemed to bear down, crushing him. In each blackened brick he could see the sneering faces of the denizens. Oh how they sneered! Their faces contorted to give their best imitation of the demon beast from the Dunes of Carnage. They shook their weak fists and showed him their yellow, snarling teeth. He would be impressed at their arrogance and whatever misplaced bravery they possessed, had he not been shackled. Chuckling deeply to himself, Peadar could find some amusement from the situation he supposed, there might be something oddly interesting in such circumstances.

The dungeon smelled of sulphur and of human remains. Condensation dripped from one of the caved ceilings, no doubt where the newly installed plumbing ran across. The Good Preditioness' chateau afforded many luxuries that much of the common folk simply could not imagine of attaining.

The other prisoners either screamed in madness or banged their waste buckets across the bars, attempting to draw attention to the non-existing patrolling guards.

They must be newcomers. Peadar thought in agitation. No-one would be coming down for hours, they should be lucky if the guards remember to feed them. The prisoners persisted though, they drummed at the walls endlessly, evoking names of divines and demon alike.

His cell was small, three confining walls hugged him in a dark, sinister blanket, whispering a promise of death. There were markings on parts of the wall, large letters spelling out names and vertical lines indicating how long they've spent here. This was not Peadar's first time to spend weeks in such a place. No, he has spent much of his younger, more youthful days locked up for disrupting the peace. But he was always let out, his asar blood gave him absolution from even murder.

I am lucky enough. Just do not understand why I haven't been questioned yet. Why am I still stuck here!

His musings left him little room to relax, his one hope was mayhap Fang could speak on his behalf. If she was alive that is. There was a pang in his chest at the thought of it. No, she couldn't be dead. That high-born bitch wouldn't dare kill her. 

A furrowed frown continued to leave angry lines on his slightly freckeled face, he has puzzeled over the locket and the trapped demon for many days now. Mayhap it was a sorcerer whose spell went awry, or a magi who wished to exact revenge. Either way, for Peadar, his main priority was sweet talking some stupid devilord or his bitch of a wife. Groaning in disgruntlement, Peadar kicked the iron bars of his cell.

He sat in cold and darkness for who knows how long, listening to the moaning wind outside and the shifting sands moving overhead. Low symphony of hammering on wood and metal wafted into his ears. Rhythmic, almost melodic composition of creaking wagons and the barking of raaptyrs soothed his frantic heart. He has used the rebuilding of Danaze to try and count the days and weeks he has been stuck here. 

In the distance he could hear the chattering away of women yelling commands at workers, and for children to stay away from sharp objects. The native liquid-like language of hell was fascinating to Peadar, not many spoke such a tongue, ironically — preferring to speak the common tongue of all humans, the archen language. He understood all but a fraction of the hellish speech uttered, finding it hard to remember the convoluted sentence structure and the endless gendering of material objects. In the far off distance he heard a flute being played and an old woman keening.

Wincing, Peadar was glad when the dungeon door was suddenly slammed open and three guards in their regalia stormed in. Holding the white haired form. Umber coloured skin poked from underneath the mass of ivory locks. And round lavender eyes. A woman, and not just any woman — a water nymph.

A water nymph? This has to be a joke. Peadar thought.

The guards opened his cell and roughly shoved the nymph inside, Peadar was thankful his new, temporary home had enough space to fit another. The girl yelped when she fell on her knees. Snarling, she got up just as quickly, turned to the guards, her simple white dress covered in dust and sand.

'Of course, shove a defenceless woman into the dirt. You must be ever so frightened of me!' She spoke with scorn dripping like acid off her tongue.

'Spare me your talk, succubus,' one of the guards, one with a small scar on his chin, spoke.

'Succubus!' the nymph shouted, enraged, 'Why, what else could I possibly be, if not a desire demon. With all my powers of seduction and persuasion I decided that I needed to be thrown, thrown, into this desolate and disgusting prison!' She derided the guards, her lithe form shaking.

Peadar frowned and scanned his eyes eyes across her body. He neither sensed, nor saw demon taint on her.

Another guard, this time one with large ears, struck his diamond shaped shield against the bars, forcing the water nymph to jump slightly, nearly falling on Peadar's sitting form.

'Get back demon! You have much to answer, Our Good Preditioness will see to your execution tomorrow.'

The white haired woman said nothing, only blowing a raspberry at the verdict. Peadar wondered what the nymph did for the devilord's wife to issue such a punishment. The guards walked off, shutting the steel gate securely behind them.

Kicking the bars with her barefoot, the woman screamed when the toes connected. Peadar wasn't sure if from pain or frustration. She turned her lavender eyes onto him.

'What? What you gaping at?' she hissed, eyes spitting fire.

Peadar smirked and placed his arms behind his head. His anger forgotten. 'Oh nothing at all my lady, just enjoying a display of true grace and beauty.'

'Shut your trap. I do not need snide remarks from a criminal scheduled for hanging.'

'A hanging?' Peadar questioned her, sitting up straighter, not sure he heard her correctly.

The woman crossed her arms. Peadar noticed she was tall, though his current position would make even an imp look tall.

'That's what I heard that slithering bastard Aariman say. By the brooks, he is a slimy one. Wouldn't let me get one word in -'

Peadar interrupted her, 'Aariman, His Hellish Presence Aariman. The devilord from the Upper Echelons.' He needed to be sure.

The woman cocked her head to the side, looking at him curiously.'Aye, the very same. Came riding down with his polished fineries not tendays ago.' Starting at Peadar's wide eyes, she asked. 'Old friend?'

Peadar narrowed his eyes, bearing his teeth, 'Of sorts, my lady. It seems I fully understand my current situation.'

She glanced around the cell, seeing a waste bucket in the corner and scrunched up her nose. Moving further away from it, she slouch down, too close to Peadar than he cared to admit. Their legs touching.

It has been a long time since Peadar was this close to a woman that was not Fang. He felt uncomfortable, his skin burning under her contact.

'I am called Nyym,' she said after a pregnant pause.

'Nyym the Nymph?' Peadar chortled.

She gave him snide sneer, 'Oh you must think you are ever so clever. Ha. Ha. I have never heard such a clever observation before.'

There was silence after such an exchange. Peadar watch her aggressively pick off grain of dirt from her dress, the hem now darkened. It sat on her awkwardly, as if not meant to be worn by her tiny figure.

Why is she wearing a dress? Peadar wondered. He hasn't seen anyone wear such covering in along time. The overhead orb, buzzing with artificial light danced across her rather feminine features. Her button nose was too small for her round head and her full lips were too big. Large, squarish ears poked out from underneath her ivory long tresses. She wasn't a beauty for sure, but there was something to her. He has never met a water nymph, so he had nothing to compare her with, only to human women.

She spoke up, her eyes not breaking away from her task, 'My father was a poet and my mother a Weaver. I suppose their creativity ran out when it came to naming their own daughter. Or they hated me. I have never really decided on which it is.'

'You never asked?' Peadar wondered.

Nyym shook her hair, greasy ivory locks falling across her dark tinged skin. From the closeness Peadar spotted a couple of darker brown freckles sprinkled about her round and delicate face.

'They died when I was young. Ever since then I was raised by Leed.' Nyym smiled slightly, showing off her two dimples.

I suppose she could be pretty. Peadar thought.

'What of you? What is your story.' She asked, bringing her legs to chest and leaning her round head on her knees.

'I have none.'

She booed at him, 'Oh come now, you know the devilord enough for him to call you his enemy and you are telling me you have no story. Liar.'

'Are you always rude to your cellmates, my lady.'

She smiled coyly, 'Only to the boring ones. Now, tell me your story.'

Nyym spoke with a high authoritative voice, her lavender eyes staring straight at his own blue ones. There was a certain flair to the way she carried herself, Peadar couldn't really place what it was.

'I was born on the surface world,' he said after mulling his thought over. This seemed to rouse her interest, her eyes widened in wonder and she seemed to hunker down even more so, like a child ready to listen to a Weaver tell its tale.

'I don't remember much of my life there, only that one day I was in the woods with a man I presume must've been my father and then I found myself in Hell.'

'Is that all?' she looked downcast, no doubt expecting a grand tale.

'Aye, my lady.'

'What is your history with the devilord Aariman.'

Peadar refused to reply, his mind conjuring the images of the day he lost favour with Aariman. Closing his eyes, he concentrated pushing the traitorous images away.

'Alright be like that. But we do need to think of a way of getting out of here.' Nyym stood up, turning in circles, looking at every nook and crevasse.

Peadar nodded his head and opened his eyes. He had no desire to be hung, especially by the likes of Aariman. But first he had a question he wanted to ask Nyym, 'Why are you here, what is your story?'

'Danaze?'

Peadar frowned, 'Imprisoned.'

Her eyes glazed over slightly, hand reaching to cup her chin, stoking it in thought. Moments past before she turned her head to face him again.

'It is a long tale...'

'Peadar.'

'Peadar. That is such a surface world name indeed,' she muttered, before continuing, 'If you must know, Peadar, I was shoved into a magical cage by some slavers and brought here. I entered the town through the front gates and was brought into the chateau. There I was given a luxurious and forceful bathing surrounded by more pearls than I have ever seen. I ate strange food with that red-haired lady and Oden -'

'Oden?' Peadar asked, the name sounding oddly familiar. 

'He's a slave captain.' 

'Hmm.' 

'Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted. We were feasting when that strange mud-thing attacked. After Her Good Preditioness defeated the demon -'

'What!' Peadar jumped up, his massive form taking up the entirety of the cell. He felt a sharp sting on his shoulder, his simple jute shirt doing little to protect the nymph's attack. 

'Will you cease your interruption!' 

Peadar realised he stood many heads taller than her, mentally retracting his statement about the dark skinned woman being tall. 

'I killed it.' 

'Oh. I see. Well it doesn't matter now, everyone is saying she did it. As I was saying, after she defeated the - alright, alright, after youdefeated the demon, I was placed under lock and key. Tendays later His Hellish Presence Aariman arrived, I was brought before him. He leered at me, asked me questions about my brooke and pond, and about Leed.' She had her hand up, folding fingers as she recounted the events. After a pause, she added, 'I do recall telling him that he could leer all he want if he made me his wife.'

Another pregnant pause. 'And that was it. That is the story of Nyym the Nymph.' 

Peadar didn't know what to make of such a story, and he wasn't sure which point he should focus on more. 'You asked the man who would buy you to make you his wife.'

'Yes. If I am going to be sold off, I might as well enjoy the benefits. I saw those ladies by the fountain, I would not mind lounging on gold and drinking crushed pearls. Or whatever those fancy maidens drink.'

Peadar laughed, he wasn't sure why he was laughing but the boldness of this woman was sure intriguing. He frowned. 'Why do they think you're a succubus.'

'Oh, that.' She sounded sheepish, 'Aariman shouted at me, he wasn't happy that I didn't know where Leed was. How would I know, she is a fish, so I told him I will curse his lineage to suffer impotence if he continued to shout at me. Turns out only a succubus can do that.'

The howling laughter of the asar echoed loudly through the dungeon. The other inmates joined the symphony, banging their buckets and skulls against the bars, cackling just as loudly as the asar.