The tension in the angel's body eased from one moment to the next. Surprised, N'Arahn reduced the pressure of his body against hers, only to immediately grab her arms so that she wouldn't sink to the floor with her face scraping against the wall. A trick? Suspiciously, he pulled her slightly away from the black stone and tightened one arm around her, pinning her arms. Veidja's feet dragged lightly on the floor and her head swayed to one side as if she had fainted. But she was still awake, he could feel it. But something was... different.

The demonlord felt some sort of uncertainty for the first time. Not a pleasant feeling. There was no way his servants should see him this bewildered. He sent a brief impulse to Darr and Cek: the hunt was over, they should retreat. And stay away from him, he would be busy for a while. Obedience and a hint of envy were the answer.

And now? Something was wrong with his angel. He still wasn't completely convinced that she wasn't trying to fool him, though. Which would be kind of ironic, an angel deceiving a demon. He would otherwise have found it amusing. But by now he was worried. Hold on. About an angel?

Veidja took a heavy, deep breath and sank into N'Arahn's embrace for good. No more tension in her body, even her remaining glow seemed more subdued. Carefully, the demonlord dropped to one knee and half-laid her on the stone, leaning her back against his upraised leg. He watched her warily, her half-closed eyes, her hands open at her sides.

"I know you're not enjoying your stay here as much as I am," he spoke to her softly. He couldn't quite banish the worry he felt from his voice. "Tell me anyway: what's wrong with you?" He placed his hand gently under her chin and lifted her head until he could look into her eyes. Her gaze was clouded, the luminous amber had given way to dull ochre. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. " Darn! What's wrong with you?"

She was fading; his angel was dying. Not immediately, but this wasn't normal weakness. Now he understood why her escape had taken so long in the first place. She hadn't hidden her light, it was simply barely there. An icy pain spread through his chest. Like anger, but more paralyzing. Was it fear? Despair?

With an unwilling growl, he slid his arms under her back and knees and stood up with her. Hardly any movement from his angel. But at least she looked at him with a tired expression. Her eyes fell shut again and again. With Veidja in his arms, N'Arahn hurried along the corridors of his fortress, pushing a wave of darkness in front of him, telling all his creatures to stay out of his way. It promised terrible punishments should they fail to do so.

Her chamber. He pushed the door open with a kick, reinforced by a pulse of energy out of impatience, and let the lights flicker on. Brighter than necessary, but he felt the need to provide a counterpoint to Veidja's fading light. N'Arahn knew he was wasting energy. Energy that had been allocated to him by Him to fight angels, not to save them or make it more comfortable, even bearable, for them. But he couldn't help it.

As the door closed behind him, he shouted out his helplessness, his rage, until the lava rivulets embedded in the walls flickered. This was all wrong. The demonlord threw the angel rudely onto the bed. He looked down at her as she lay there, weakened. Not because of him and his deeds, as he had to assume.

Hot anger pulsed through his veins. If she was so weak, then he should just let her rot. She was no use to him or his hordes if she couldn't fight. And she had dared to challenge him, to try to escape. It would only be right to punish her for it. And this punishment meant worse than her death. He could finally live his usual life again. Killing angels and not feeding them. It would be...

"Do it." Her voice was just a hoarse whisper. "Follow your nature."

He'd never felt so at odds with himself. He wanted to kill her, tear her apart, until this insolent angel was nothing more than a bloody memory. To give himself over completely to the intoxication of violence. And he wanted to cover her with his body, give her what she needed, nourish her with his body if necessary.

The inner conflict literally set him on fire. Small flames leapt from his skin, his hair flew in a non-existent wind, also bursting into flames. He roared again and involuntarily unfurled his huge black wings. Shadowy, they filled the room with his outburst. N'Arahn spread his arms and let a wall of dark fire roll through the chamber, drawing the heat almost completely into himself. Let himself burn out, purify.

***

Veidja gasped. The demonlord had never shown his true, his warrior form until now. He was terrifyingly beautiful as he burned. She couldn't tell where his skin ended and the fire began. His wings were substance shadows that touched her like silk. The black flames that spread were hot, so hot. Her skin instantly began to glow and she found it difficult to breathe. Her ears ached from his roar. So this was her death? Not in battle, as would have been right, but this one had its own beauty.

She didn't know why, but she searched for the demonlord's face. And he looked at her. His emerald eyes were a stark contrast to the red and black of what was happening, piercing through the blaze to her.

And all at once, the flames collapsed and the heat withdrew. Almost deliberately, the demon folded his wings on his back before they disappeared completely. He lowered his arms and the last tongues of fire on his body died out.

"No." He bent down to her. She couldn't see any burns on him, while her skin still complained about the heat wave. He wasn't sweating either, even his breathing was steady. Only the smell of fire and metal was more intense than usual. And also... juniper. Strange what you perceive when you're so close to death.

"The choice is yours. Either you fight in your condition. It's less fun, but my servants are also grateful for the little pleasures. Or you tell me what's up with you. This will increase your chances of being able to fulfill your nature. Only a dead demon is a good demon, isn't that right?" He flashed a grin that wasn't one, just a mask of restraint. Veidja could now guess what else was boiling underneath. "But I won't let you go."

It didn't sound like a threat. It was a statement, a conviction. He would not kill her, would not offer her this way out. Her Old Soul would not return to take on another destiny. Veidja's eyes burned, but she didn't want him to see her despair too clearly. She stifled the sob in her throat. Why could he, whose only drives should be anger and the infliction of pain, control himself like this?

She blinked, pulling herself together as best she could. All that mattered at the moment was that he had spoken an absolute truth. No games, no deception. She could read it in his eyes, as if he'd captured it in a crystal. This way of escape was closed to her.

She didn't like it one bit, but he was right. She could slowly wither away and let the hell creatures beat her even worse in her desolate state. That would hardly be difficult for them, because soon she would freeze completely. She could feel it, it was happening faster and faster now.

Or she would cooperate, with the hope that she could escape at some point, overpower the demonlord, even kill him. That was very unlikely, but then she would at least have a small chance.

And besides... She was simply tired of it. Veidja felt sick and exhausted like she had never felt before. The demonlord was wrong, she wouldn't provide any more "fun" for his creatures. She could no longer fight. And since that was all she knew, all she wanted, she was effectively dead at the moment.

The demonlord was still looking at her with that piercing gaze. She couldn't interpret it. Didn't understand the demon. On the one hand, he was exactly as she expected a demonlord to be. On the other hand, had he really been carrying her earlier? Had he sounded genuinely concerned? It couldn't be, she had to put it down to her delirium. And yet here she was. He hadn't killed her or simply thrown her away. Probably just to prolong her suffering, but he could have made it easier for himself.

Veidja felt her thoughts turn into knots first, then into vortices. She really needed it. Without realizing it, she had closed her eyes, perhaps she had even fallen unconscious?

One thought now dominated her. The demonlord had offered to give her what she needed. She didn't want to take anything from him, but there was no better choice. Perhaps he really would help her. At what price she would only find out when she finally overcame herself.

Veidja opened her eyes, but saw only dark streaks. "Demon?" Her voice scratched her throat. And she was so weak, it didn't sound like her anymore. Once again, a little louder this time: "Demon, are you still there?"

Silence. The angel was gripped by unease. Veidja wasn't sure how long she could stay awake and lucid enough to negotiate with him, if she was even able to. But since it had to be done... Where was he? She felt her hand over the bed, as if she could find him that way. If he were this close to her, it should terrify her, but right now her jailer was her only hope.

There. A noise. Then his deep, rough voice: "The appropriate form of address would be 'My lord'. But I fear I would be breaking my promise if I gave you the appropriate response to this insult." His words sounded like a joking rebuke, but his tone was icy. Veidja suddenly wasn't sure she would be able to pay the price he was certainly demanding.

"Well?" Veidja hadn't thought that a single word could carry so much coldness, anger and contempt all at once. Although she was laying there, she was already feeling dizzy again. Her hands clawed at the fabric. Why hadn't the sheets been burned? The heat wave had almost boiled her skin, but the fabric was still smooth and soft. As if untouched.

Veidja knew her thoughts were going in an irrelevant direction. Something was important, she had to say it. But what? She was so tired. And it was dark and warm. Couldn't she just sleep? Remembering, thinking about this important thing, was exhausting, downright painful. She stared open-eyed into the black, shimmering nothingness, almost as dark inside her head as outside. Perhaps a little light would have made it easier for her to remember.

Light...

A heavy hand on her shoulder, a rude shake, a burning pain in her cheek after a light slap, pulled her back to her uncomfortable reality.

"Pull yourself together, angel. Spit out what you want to say." That cold voice was an anchor. Yes, she had to say something.

"Help," she got out. "Quick."

Again he was silent, but his voice had been very close. She was no longer sure of her senses, suspected he was sitting next to her on the bed by now; the fabric had moved.

"An angel willingly entering into a pact with a demonlord. Unthinkable." She could hear the demon's glee. By now, she didn't care about the consequences. Veidja was all desire and urgency. He should just agree.

"So what do you want me to do for you?"

"Sun." She had remembered again. The darkness had been about to engulf her. What she needed was light, real sunlight.