The Lord was not a summoner of demons. He was a demon held within a human body.

“It’s been a long time since a soul like yours had the courage to face me.” He said, walking towards her. “Clearly you believe you can defeat me.”

Siril said nothing, but placed a hand on her falchion, curling her fingers around the handle. The hound saw her movement and growled, but the Lord stayed it with a wave of his hand. The hound hissed at Siril and softly padded into the forest.

“I have come to free these people.” Siril said firmly, though her situation was very different. She had been sent to fight a human. Could she now face a demon and win? They were rumoured to be the strongest and most deadly creatures alive. She spoken to a demon hunter once, and found him to be a lifeless as the hosts that demons wore.

But she had come this far, and these people needed help. She would give it, however much they feared her presence.

“Then try it.” The Lord said. He made no move to claim a weapon, and Siril knew that he wouldn’t need one. She slid the falchion from its sheath, invoking the protection of the spirits.

Then she charged.

The fight was now over. Siril lay unconscious in the middle of the town, her falchion embedded in her hip. She had been successful, and she remained alive. The Lord lay dead close by, his throat sliced open. His hounds had been sent back to their source. The people of Misdrobar were free.

But Siril had paid a high price for her victory, one that she would never recover from.

The demon now dwelt inside her.