POV: Zellora

  The research that I secretly performed nearly a millennia ago worked. His jaw slacked and stunned.

  “So you like?” I said in the instinctive allure that succubi are known for.

  After a solid thirty seconds his mind regained some semblance of control, “What? How do you have those cloths? Ah, um, uh,” his brain promptly breaking again.

  I laughed, “After learning that you hadn't left on your own, I had asked the players that popped up about your old world. I wanted to...” my voice failed me. “I thought if I was appealing to you with thing you knew, it might help...”

  “You... you did that for me?”

  “Yes. When my emotions became real, I realized that what I felt towards you was different. It wasn't faith or loyalty it was more. I couldn't figure it out. It wasn't for some time before I found I had a new class [Mistress of the True Divine]. It was only then I knew what this weirdness in my emotions was, love. It is an emotion that succubi are normally precluded from outside of our race. But when you had fed me your own mp when you found me. It changed me more then I realized. I asked Straeddas, Ruze and Chlora to check on me and was given a clean bill of health.”

  “You... I'm sorry, I... I don't know how... what to... I...”

  My face flushed, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I...”

  POV: Khiva

  With the ceremony coming in the next few days, I have taken it upon myself as the Forge's Armorer to make the formal clothing for Lord Sterling. Rounding the corner near his personal residence, I was nearly run over by someone leaving his room rapidly.

  “Was that Zellora?” I asked myself as she disappeared out of sight. “Also what was she wearing? Eh, must be some succubus grab.”

  Knocking on the lords door, I heard Victor within scrambling to the door before it burst open, “Zellora?”

  “Ah, so that was her.”

  “Oh, I'm sorry Khiva. What can I do for you?”

  “No problem. I just came by to get some fresh measurements for you. I have ideas for the formal wear you need for the coming ceremony,” I explained.

  “Yea that sounds good,” He said while looking back and forth down the hallway.

  “I think she ran back to her room,” his face went red as I said that. Ah, that is what's going on, “It's none of my businesses, but be honest with her only Deliliah matched her in fervor to find you.”

  Some how a greater shade of red, he changed the topic, “Um, I understand... I think. Anyway what were you thinking? The outfit, I mean.”

  “Frankly, too many ideas. But I do remember that you are a function over form type of style, right?”

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  “YES. I hate things looking overly gaudy.”

  “Good, now my plan is to go simple suit formal wear like that of lesser nobles but it will be modified to invoke the image of your normal combat gear. Longer overcoat similar to your trench coat. Black for overcoat and pants. Ivory colored undershirt. Oh and I plan to use spectraite infused threads for trim that will be the base for the protection enchants. You know, so you are not completely in the wind,” I explained.

  A little of the worry and embarrassment faded from his face, “Good that will work best. Should there be an embroidered symbol of the Forge on it?”

  After a pause, “I think that is doable.”

  Bringing out my measuring threads, I noted down his dimensions. This was going to be fun. While I normal only get to make combat gear, fancy clothing should be in my wheel house and a good change of pace.

  “How is the spectraite threads in a practical application?” Victor asked, the mind of a maker never changes.

  “Excellent for day time stealth, otherwise not any better than the mithril threads we have used in the past.”

  “Interesting, interesting. Oh I nearly forgot, can you deliver this?” He had grabbed a small rectangle of mithril from his anvil. “It's Miss Iko's...”

  “Yea, it's perfect.”

  POV: Victor Sterling

  With Khiva leaving, my thoughts wandered back to Zellora. She has a crush on me. I could barely talk to women back on Earth, let alone a supernaturally hot demoness. Yea my brain kinda froze. The crop top and jeans was just plain unfair. I don't want to hurt her, but I also can't deny that my heart still has not recovered, or my jewels.

  I sighed, “I need to figure things out, again. My brain knows no peace.”

  POV: ???

  The creak of the latch opening after far too long. The thick door of adamantine lead to a room coated in the stuff. I truly serve a great god. In the center of the room, no prison cell, was a coffin bound in mithril made of wood taken from a branch of the world tree soaked in holy water.

  The four guards and me were then locked in, I nodded to them. Taking positions around the coffin they waited for me. Drawing near, I felt her. Some how still alive after nearly one hundred years of starvation and still have enough raw power that it weighed on the fabric of the world.

  I undid the latch. There in the coffin, if I didn't know any better I would say it was an emaciated corpse. Shallow breaths gave away the spark life that still remained in her tattered body. The guard's slaver staves were rapidly strapped to her arms, one per shoulder and wrist. She was lifted out roughly.

  I brought out the small tack I was given. I drew a drop of blood from my thumb. One of the guards yanked her head back hard. I dripped my life essence into her mouth.

  “Disgusting parasite,” one of the guards muttered.

  Once it hit her tongue, she inhaled sharply as if startled. In less than a second she gained about 30 pounds. Her eyes, a vibrant crimson hue, shot open and locked on to me.

  Her voice like quicksilver, flowed out, “What has it been like 50 years?”

  I was required to answer that one, “97 years and 8 months, will you tell us what my master wishes to know?”

  She gave a disappointed look, “What has changed? There is no way Holmes doesn't know I will never give in.”

  That was not an approved question. I remained silent.

  She chuckled, “I guess he perfected his training of you interrogators.”

  I nodded to the guards. Electricity arced out of the slaver staves, her wailing in agony.

  “Tell me what my master wishes to know. Then you will be killed ending your suffering.”

  She laughed and laughed and laughed. Slowly turning maddening before she spoke again, “If you haven't been told, my life is not my own therefore I can not go against my master as you can't against yours. Oh. That is what has changed, he is here, isn't he?”

  “Quiet you unholy abomination!!” One of the guards spit as he charged his staff.

  After she stopped screaming she returned to laughing. I ordered above her insane laughter, “Put her back!”

  She was slammed into the coffin briefly cutting her voice off. I reached to close the lid when she spoke again, “Your 'god' is scared little one. Be ready for a real god to come. I am the [Sword of the True Divine]. Run.”

  The resealed coffin didn't stop the manic laughter from echoing into my soul.