She had fought them until they almost tore her wings off. Normally both a weapon and an escape option, more and more of the iridescent white feathers had fallen into the hands of the stinking, screeching creatures. There were just too many. She had had to send her wings away and could now only rely on her speed, strength and sword. But the hilt of her weapon had become slippery with blood, and her muscles were weakening more with each passing moment. At some point her shield was shattered and she lost her helmet. Her white-blond hair stuck in strands to her neck and face.

She had let herself get separated from her squad, had rushed too far forward in the frenzy of battle. Now she would pay the price. But she had sold well; around her lay many auburn bodies that would not soon rise again. Death on this battlefield was not final, but every little victory counted. This time, after all, she had bought time out for her companions. Now her opponents, those lowly, twisted creatures, were gathering again, and she knew it would be the final onslaught for her.

Shreaking. A red wave of twisted bodies rushes towards her.

Pierce. Rotate. Cut.

The taste of blood on her lips. Fire in the eyes.

Sharp pain.

Darkness.

~~~

"What do you have there?"

This Eternal War had become so boring. Always only death and doom with no hope of an end of any kind. For a long time, all this had satisfied him. The roar of his enemies when he thrust his black horns through their breastplates. The taste of their life on his tongue. The power to send waves of darkness over their boastful armor.

Now...

It was always the same, regardless of whether he threw himself into battle during the closure or whether he tried to fill in the monotony in between. There was no excitement, nothing new, anything that told him he was still alive.

And now this. His servants had captured something and dragged it from the battlefield to his corridors and caverns. They were so proud, they wanted to show it to him.

They had acted on their own authority. A punishment was due. He sighed. Even the prospect of that no longer pleased him adequately.

With an impatient move, he swept the foremost servant aside to see what they had brought in. His gaze fell on a stained bundle on the floor. It must have been mostly white before, but now it was smeared with red and brown. It clearly smelled of blood and dirt. And of...

What else was that?

Ah, it was moving. He now realized that the figure's hands and feet were tied. Suddenly, amber eyes flashed from a blood-caked face.

~~~

Metal. And ashes. The floor didn't taste good. She was probably not back in the White Mountain. Which would also explain the pain. And her memories.

Hm. That smell. What...?

She jerked her head up. No! That couldn't be.

But there was no doubt. She was in a low black stone cave surrounded by a hissing, nervous bunch of inferior creatures. And right in front of her, her master had built up. She looked him straight in the face from her unfavorable position on the floor. Just in time to see his features first contort into a grin, then he began to laugh roaringly. Threw his head back and made the walls shake. His sharp teeth sparkled silver, contrasting with the deep red of his skin. He stood before her, legs apart and self-confident; every muscle was clearly visible, from his clawed feet to his flat stomach to his muscular arms, which he had crossed over his broad chest. He wore only a knee-length brown leather war skirt that was reinforced with black metal plates at regular intervals. He didn't need any more protection. She knew from her own experience that the demonlord's feared nothing in their fortresses. And rightly so, because there were always hosts of servants around them who would literally set themselves on fire rather than let anyone approach their master. Among other things, because the slightest negligence resulted in the loss of body parts or even abdication. As slowly as possible to serve as a good example. Taking a demonlord's fortress was impossible while its master resided in it.

And now she was here. With one of them. She would have liked to pray, but her voice failed her. For the first time in her warrior life, she felt fear.

~~~

How did the little rats do it? The delicious scent of her fear suddenly rose to his nose. Fear? Wasn't that completely alien to them? He would have ascribed to them arrogance and self-exaggeration; fear should actually have no place there.

Since a long, long time buried curiosity germinated in him. And joy. One of their warriors, bound at his feet. It had been since... He couldn't remember an incident during this incarnation. Usually they couldn't be caught, any more than the higher ones on his side. But the how and why didn't matter. This chance had to be seized. Who knew how long she could last; the time had to be used.

"Well, a guest. How nice. "He grinned again. With extra teeth. "Let her wash and give her something white to wear. You should feel at home. Then we will dine. "

He fixed her, and in response received a baring of needle-sharp teeth. As he walked, he nodded to his captain. "Be careful with her. Even without weapons, she kills some of you with ease. It would be very unfortunate if all the effort had been in vain, wouldn't it?" He lowered his voice to a growl. "Regrettable to each of you."

Thoughtfully, he walked the corridors to the actual rooms of his fortress. He would have to report back to Him. He hissed into the empty room. Later. First of all, she was his. If he thought what to do with her, then it would be the right time. Without a plan, he wouldn't even have to step before the Lord of Hell.

~~~

Clawed hands yanked her from the ground; she was carried through the corridors by her arms and legs. She was still completely stunned and let it happen to her without resistance. Not just that she was in the hands of a demonlord and his creatures. He sent her to wash and wanted to eat with her?

A terrible thought struck her. What if she should be the food herself? More than once she had seen companions die screaming under the teeth of a higher demon and his retinue. But that was in battle and therefore over relatively quickly. Here he would be able to take his time. Much time. She had to gag but tried to hold it back.

The corridors widened and rough-hewn rock gave way to finely worked bricks. Torches changed to blackened metal lanterns that gave off a yellowish light. Ornate indentations had been carved into some of the walls through which rivulets of lava flowed. It was warm, but not uncomfortably hot as she had expected. Only the constant light wind was missing, which never dried up on the White Mountain. And of course it smelled completely different here. Of stone and fire, of metal and pain.

Her escort came to a stop in front of a passage and dropped her roughly to the ground. Two of the lesser demons cut the remains of her armor with their razor-sharp claws, while others stood watchfully around her. First the rags of her formerly white combat robes fell, which identified her as a warrior. Then they loosened the straps and buckles on her breastplate and greaves, which were made of small leather tiles connected for better mobility, reinforced with metal strips for protection. To take off her boots, they untied her legs, which didn't mean they gave her any freedom of movement. The upholstery, which cushioned most shocks in combat, was meticulously separated so that the infernal creatures did not have to release her arms.

But that wasn't all. She grimaced when she realized that the demons weren't about to leave her undergarments. At least they touched her as little as possible, almost as if they were afraid that a mere touch would make them go up in smoke.

They placed her in front of the passage and withdrew a little. A larger demon, less beastly than the rest, stepped before them.

Pieces of armor melted into the skin. Halfway recognizable facial features, but distorted. A captain. The brief, clear observations showed her that her mind was still working, even if the shock of being caught numbed her.

He had a knife in his hand to cut the shackles on her hands too. A critical moment, as he well knew. She saw his watchful gaze and his grim determination. She tensed, but tried to make it seem like she was just standing there exhausted. He growled, two clawed hands darting to her left and right, clutching her wrists. With one quick movement he cut the bonds and immediately withdrew the knife. She was faster and stronger than the minor demons, but she was hurt too. Just not fast enough. Her hands went nowhere, then she felt a hard push in front of her chest and stumbled backwards into the room behind her. A metal door slammed right in front of her, blocking the way back.

The warrior looked dull at the door; the brief exertion had already brought her to the brink of collapse. She rubbed her wrists, which were a little numb from the tight ankles. She turned around, tired and frustrated. The room was round, very clear and completely empty. Just a basin embedded in the floor, filled with steaming water to slightly below the rim. She stepped up and tested the water with her foot. Enjoyable. She thought for a moment. There was no further exit, no furniture, no other items that could be used in any way. The door was closed. She might as well use the bath. Clean she would also certainly be able to think better again.

She let herself slide slowly from the edge into the water; it wasn't deep. With every part of skin touched by the warm, caressing water, she said goodbye to crusts of dirt, dried blood and pain. She groaned comfortably as she relaxed. She couldn't stay like this for long because she had deep cuts all over her body and at least one stab wound on the shoulder. If she didn't want to bleed herself to death, she'd have to get out of the water soon. But now, just now, it was good. According to the circumstances, she felt almost... happy. For the moment.