Ru leaned back on his demonic throne, letting out a truly relieved sigh. "Whew! Thanks for that, guys. You truly rescued me from that dragon. He paused, a thought striking him. "Oh, and before I forget, Killian too. Man, that guy's got some serious ambition, huh? Nearly tore my heart right out."
The demonic arms, coiled like octopus tentacles, gently stroked his cheek in response—cold, wet, and soothing, like seaweed in a warm bath.
"You're spoiling me," Ru murmured, nuzzling into the touch. "I desire furthermore."
Then, with the casual arrogance of someone making dinner plans, he announced:
"Now, you're taking me to Anaxarete. And you're going to help me kill her."
In an instant, the arms recoiled like burnt wires. The warmth vanished. The throne dissolved beneath him. He didn't fall.
He blinked—and found himself standing in one of the castle's long, empty hallways. Alone.
"What the hell?"