Nyx wandered the forests bordering Red Ochre for the rest of the afternoon. They came across the odd monster or critter. Nothing as tough as the fachans (if “tough” could be used to describe them). Things that took only a quick flick of light to the head. Killing these small fry made Nyx feel no better and no worse.

When the afternoon sky turned to yellow and pink, Nyx transformed into Mr. Chutney and prepared to go back to town. They circled back to the blood lake, found a withered and seldom-used bench, and sat there. They looked across the surface. It wasn’t much like watching the water, since blood didn’t waver the same way. It mostly sat still. From time to time, a ripple did disturb the surface. The rolling back of a serpent, one of very few creatures that could survive the lake, would curl through. Then the lake would calm again.

A few weeks ago, when Felicity had just come in, Nyx leaned back in their specially-crafted, imitation-Earth easy chair and asked the wood imp to craft a few special letters. Sappy, simple things like, “TO MOM: I’M SORRY. I NEVER SHOULD HAVE SAID THAT.” Written in the kinds of blocky letters an illiterate imp would make.

Nyx had taken the letters and, without more than a glance at their words, folded them up and slid them into envelopes. They brought those to their room and slotted them into a special place on their desk where the stationery and trinkets and keepsakes went.

Now at the lake, they thought of it all with a sigh.

Afternoon fell to evening. The door to Nightfall Castle opened. Nyx came in and surveyed everything they had to their name.

A lavish entryway. A kitchen with everything a medieval aristocrat could ask for, including a fire oven, icebox, and larder. Servants. Servants’ quarters. Spare weapons, spare armor, and a few things in never-used condition. Spare spells, spare enchantments and hexes. A chemistry lab, in case they ever got a servant with the aptitude to make demon tech. The janitorial stuff. Rec room.

Enough rooms to house a small but competent troop. With an option to expand, since demon castles didn’t have to operate by mortals’ physical laws.

Nyx’s stomach rumbled. A recently turned demon was still prey to certain human needs.

So they entered the kitchen. At first glance, it looked exactly the way they’d left it. When they got to the pantry, though, the place with all the snacks...

Felicity and Dodd must’ve known Nyx would go here first.

Hanging from the door handle was a sign that read, in bold letters that must have taken an entire ink bottle, “I’M SORRY.”

Nyx took the paper off, ran their thumb across it.

If Felicity had known how to write enough words, she would’ve added a note in this pile saying, “SORRY I ATE THE SNACKS.” But one imp can only do so much.

The only surprise Nyx found inside the pantry was a bouquet of aromatic flowers. Nothing showy, because no flower around Red Ochre was a combination of showy and aromatic—the big ones smelled like the blood. Instead, these were a kind of honeysuckle native to Gaia. Their color was mixed orange and red, and their smell carried a hint of tarragon.

Nyx took these flowers in their hand, too. They held the bundle and the apology note as if they were part of the same Valentine’s Day gift. Felicity’s message was getting clearer...

They went upstairs to the second and, for now, final floor. They unlocked the door to their private chamber.

Ugh. All the human stuff. Nyx looked it over with a sinking stomach. Maybe they really couldn’t do without the plush, feather-packed bed until they had well and truly, thoroughly become a demon. While the turning process started in an instant, it would take a literally untold number of years to finish, and Nyx did have to remember that. But good god! The drawings and handmade “posters” that Nyx had tacked to the walls! A crude map of their old planet! Extremely crude posters (crude in all senses) of famous aging rock stars! A stuffed Valentine’s Day bear that Nyx had commissioned from a confused Gaian artisan just to make themself feel better!

It took a few deep breaths for Nyx to convince themself not to lay blame, and just to take it all in without judgment.

They stepped over to the writing desk. Ran their hand over the shining surface. This wood had come from Husk, one of the twelve hells of the underworld, a land of eternally dead and petrified trees. They remembered that outing. They remembered getting a lot of their first demon stuff. It had felt like a big adventure back then.

They pushed a wooden lockbox and an inkstone aside to get to Felicity’s letters. Pulled the letters out.

When they went downstairs with all three things in hand, they made sure to walk over to the servants’ quarters. They took a moment to stand outside of it. When they concentrated hard enough, they could actually feel the two imps’ presence inside of that room. Imps couldn’t sense demon presence without a great effort. They were simply too weak, their power was capped. But if things went right, Nyx, at least, could one day attain the power of an archlord.

They entered a drawing room. It was dark.

Nyx didn’t have any aptitude in fire magic, unlike most of the Gaian population. They settled for a match from a box they’d kept from the demon world—one of their old homes, Darkworld District. The box’s design reminded them of Earth products from the turn of the century—gaudy, cluttered, ornate. The colors were also fading remarkably fast.

With a stroke, they lit the match. They tossed it in the fireplace. It caught fire, and the flames were so violent and vigorous that they threatened to latch onto the top of the fireplace and burn the castle down. They never did.

After the match went in, the letters and the flowers and the note from Felicity followed. If Nyx could’ve thrown in their memories of Spencer, and Ethel, and everyone else they used to know, they would have.

The start of a demon lord’s life was here.

And now the game began.