Skrakch could feel the panic rising in his chest, taste the bile that threatened to spill from his throat, as he stared at the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen in his admittedly short life. She was smiling at him benignly, her ears either deaf or impassive to the horrific sounds of suffering that seemed amplified around them.

  ‘No, not a creature. A Demon.’

  It didn’t matter that it looked like the most perfect Iskrin Skrakch could ever dream of, it was a dangerous and soulless monstrosity that fed on fear and pain.

  The screaming drifting through the glass window behind the Ratling’s back confirmed that.

  Still… Skrakch wasn’t dead yet. The Demon had invited him to this layer of the Hells but had spared him from the brutal and twisted fate of the other visitors, and that meant it wanted something from him.

  ‘And I can work with that.’

  Schooling his facial features as much as he could, Skrakch did his best to appear confident. In control. He wasn’t going to let the show of brutality rattle him. Or, at least, he didn’t need her to know he was bloody terrified.

  ‘Poised and ready for anything.’

  Keeping his back towards the screaming souls as they dropped into the literal Hells, Skrakch kept his eye on the Demon as it perched on the edge of its high-backed chair, resting atop a pedestal and looking down on him.

  Even the act of sitting somehow gave the albino Iskrin an air of poise and regality, though Skrakch was beginning to realize that didn’t make the Demon any less dangerous or unpredictable.

  “How about we start our chat from the beginning, Miss…?” Skrakch ventured, his tail lashing back and forth due to his strained nerves.

  “Of course, I thought you might be more agreeable now.” The Demon’s voice was almost musical to Skrakch’s ear. She leaned forward slightly, tenting her claws under her chin as she regarded him. “I have more titles than you have spoken words in your life, some in a tongue that a mere mortal such as yourself could only dream of understanding, but you may refer to me as Mistress Glasya,” She answered smoothly. “And I have been looking forward to speaking with you for a few years now.”

  Skrakch nodded slowly, as he gathered his thoughts. “And why exactly has a Demon been looking forward to speaking with me specifically, uh, Glasya?”

  “Mistress Glasya,” The Albino Ratling corrected, a sudden flare of irritation in her ruby eyes. The look passed within a second as her benign smile replaced it and she stuck out a paw to casually examine her claws. “Oh, my lovely dear Skrakch, you don’t even know how tantalizing of a morsel you are, do you?” The Demon answered, stepping off her chair and moving just past Skrakch to look out the window.

  “Every time the Denmother has summoned me for a chat this past half-decade, I can barely think straight as I try to peek past her scrying defenses.” She started to explain as she watched more bodies drop into the colossal cauldron of boiling liquid gold.

  “All because of you and your stench as it wafts through that boring little city of yours, pervading everything you touch with your… musk.” She turned and smirked at Skrakch for a moment before looking back at the window.

  “I don’t have any musk!” Skrakch retorted hotly, though a flash of regret made its way across his face shortly afterwards. This wasn’t The Plagued Rat and this wasn’t Zacharias taking the piss. This was a powerful Demon and he needed to watch his tongue if he wanted to keep it.

  Thankfully, Miss Glasya only let out a small musical chuckle at his response before continuing. “Oh but you do. The perfect blend of desperation and despair, simmering under an ever so thin layer of cockiness. If I could wear you like a perfume, I’d be the happiest Iskrin in all the lands.”

  “As… charming… as that idea is, we both know that you only look like that because you pulled the inspiration directly from my mind.” Skrakch countered. “If I were someone else, you would’ve taken on whatever form they desired.”

  It was common enough knowledge that Demons could shift their physical aspects akin to clay, though the Denmother’s working succubi tended not to bother… unless the pay was right, of course.

  Mistress Glasya smiled at Skrakch resplendently, before moving towards him. “There’s that bravado of yours again. How delightfully misplaced. However, I’m afraid to say that you’re as mistaken about me as you are about yourself.”

  Skrakch opened his mouth to ask what the Hells she was talking about but she cut him off by continuing.

  “I’m a little surprised you don’t recognize your own Empress, considering most Iskrin instinctively know to worship the ground she walks on, but I suppose you haven’t had the misfortune of catching her eye yet.” The Demon spoke with a mischievous grin on her face, spinning in place as her albino fur glistened under the burning candles that lit up the small room.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  It was difficult to keep his expression neutral, but Skrakch tried his best to taper down the sudden wellspring of curiosity that sprung forth in his chest.

  “That’s what the Iskrin Empress looks like?” Skrakch asked her, sizing up the Demon once more. He tried to keep his face neutral but she was so damn captivating it was hard not to let his true feelings surface.

  “Yes, she’s quite the ravishing figure is she not? It’s a truly rare occasion that I get to take on her form, but it’s not everyday I get to meet an Iskrin as independent as you, Skrakch.” Mistress Glasya explained.

  “You don’t even know how lucky you are, one of the few Iskrin in the world who don’t have the Empress’ claws rooting about in their gooey brain matter.”

  “What, the Empress has the ability to control minds, does she?” Skrakch asked with one eyebrow raised. “Is that part of her Pact? I’ve read that the Iskrin ruling class has quite a number of Chosen amongst their number, but…”

  Mistress Glasya let out a small chuckle, before lifting a paw to gently caress Skrakch’s cheek, either not noticing the Ratling’s flinch or simply not deigning to acknowledge it.

  “Oh, it’s nothing like a Chosen’s Pact, my sweet boy. Hmmm, how do I put this so you’ll understand.”

  Skrakch felt his fur bristle with irritation. ‘Surely he’d already proved he wasn’t some mindless drone?’

  “It’s something that was intentionally bred in the Iskrin species as a whole. The lowliest of your species inherently follow the orders of those above them in the hierarchy.” Mistress Glasya continued after a moment or two. “Think about it! What does it mean, Skrakch, that you met a Crown Prince of the Hungering Empire and managed to resist his words?”

  The Demoness grinned toothily at Skrakch. “Oh, the shame the Crown Prince had felt in that moment was absolutely blissful. A common brown Iskrin, ignoring the commands of its better? You made an enemy for life, and didn’t even speak a word to the little Princeling.” She chuckled. “Such a joy to witness!”

  Skrakch barely let the idea mull about in his skull for a moment, before a disbelieving chuckle escaped from him unbidding. “Are you being serious right now? You’re trying to talk me up as some kinda special Ratling?” A scoff rippled its way out of his chest before he could stop himself. “Do you have a magic goose to sell me as well, that shits golden eggs?” He added with a derisive snort.

  He could see what she was trying to do. It was as clear as the whiskers on the end of his nose. There was still a part of him that wanted to go along with what she was saying, take it at face value and believe that yes he, Skrakch, was an important link in the chain all along.

  But where had that gotten him in the past? One failed idea after another, and still he hadn’t become a Chosen.

  “Seriously, am I supposed to take the word of a literal Demon on this one? So when is the other coin going to drop, do I need to sell my soul to unlock my full potential then?” He spat sarcastically. Skrakch’s face contorted in disgust as he waved his hand dismissively towards the alchemical tools lining the room’s walls. “Next you’ll tell me I’m a prodigy at alchemy, I just need a little boost!”

  “I’m starting to think this entire thing is bullshit, and I’m not about to-“ Skrakch cut off abruptly mid-sentence as he stared down at the Empress’ arm that had suddenly blurred forwards. Before Skrakch could blink, the Demon had sunk her entire fist into his rib cage, and the only reason he wasn’t screaming in pain was the lack of air flowing into his lungs.

  “I like to think I’m a fairly calm Mistress”, the Demon began speaking even as she wriggled her claws inside Skrakch’s chest cavity calmly as though she were rooting through a dish of sweetmeats to locate the choicest one. “But even someone as gracious as myself has limits.”

  The Demon retracted her arm, a bucket's worth of blood bursting out of Skrakch as he fell bonelessly to the floor. “We were having such a lovely chat as well, were we not? You just had to go and ruin it, didn’t you, Skrakch.” Mistress Glasya chided.

  “But fret not dear, I’m not mad. Not truly anyways.” Waving her bloodied paw from side to side, Mistress Glasya grabbed Skrakch’s falling body and leaned his still gasping form against the nearby glass window.

  “Goodness, I hadn’t even gotten to my sales pitch, not in earnest at least.” The Demon looked around seemingly without a hurry, before pulling her throne closer to Skrakch’s dying body.

  “I suppose I’ll have to skip to the good bits.” She smiled, talking over the choking gasps Skrakch was making as his body ran cold. “You see, you’re in a rather unique spot my dear. Events are swirling around you like muddled water, even if you yourself aren’t that important.”

  Despite the rising panic, Skrakch still has the presence of mind to realize that here it was. The other shoe was about to drop just as he’d expected it would.

  ‘Just as it always did.’

  “Which brings me to my offer. One I think you’d be ecstatic to hear about if you weren’t actively bleeding out on my very expensive carpet.” Mistress Glasya examined her bloodied claws in a disinterested sort of way. Casual murder was all in a day's work for Demons. Hells, who knew if he was even the first mortal she’d stabbed today?

  “Because I have a deal to offer you Skrakch. You were right, of course, I do want something. And I’m willing to give nearly anything to get it.” The demon’s albino eyes stared down to match Skrakch’s desperate stare, pinning the Ratling in place.

  He could feel his very lifeblood draining out of him and yet he was still conscious. He was still able to think as clearly as he ever had been.

  “I’m willing to give you what you want most. A new lease on life. No more checking your Rune, and no more whittling down the hours until your death.”

  Skrakch, lying in a swiftly growing pool of his own blood, was struggling to stay conscious and yet the Ratling was more focused on the white-furred beauty in front of him than before as he felt hope stirring in his bosom.

  “All you need to do…” Mistress Glasya finished with a smile that seemed to stretch monstrously with sharpened teeth, “Is find out who robbed the Denmother, and bring me what they stole.”

  “And I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Everything you’ve always known you deserved.”

  Skrakch tried to speak, but only managed to spit up a burst of blood as he was plunged into darkness, the hole in his chest leaking red as he fell further into peaceful oblivion.

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