“Holy. Shit,” the succubus leaned back in her chair, pushing herself away from the feast that never seemed to end.
“Indeed, your appetite is most impressive,” the Summer King mused.
“Oh, honey, you have… ow,” Layla’s attempt to shove her foot into her mouth was interrupted by a sharp elbow to the ribs.

The Twin Kings smiled politely, and the Summer King nodded graciously at Rory, who was sitting suspiciously close to Layla.

“In that vein, I must admit curiosity about your… unique situation, Layla. I am aware that the Nightfather gives all Chosen the opportunity to ‘reinvent’ themselves when they are spirited away. Is it true that your world contains only humans?” the Summer King sipped his wine.
“We have legends of elves and dwarves, and any number of other fantastical creatures, but yes, humans are the only ‘race’, as it were,” Rory replied, appreciatively taking a sip of his tea.

The Summer King listened and nodded where appropriate, but turned back to the succubus.

“So, why did you choose to become a demon?” he asked, his gaze unusually direct.
“I played a lot of Darkstalkers when I was a kid, and I mained demo-lock before we got into Fire and Fury,” she grinned.
“I’m sorry, but… I don’t understand,” the Summer King smiled gently. “It feels like you’re saying that you pretended to be a succubus when you were young… and you decided to become one based on that?”
“That’s more or less right,” she grinned and licked a pointed canine.

The Summer King sipped at his wine again, and a steward appeared to refill the cup.

“You understand what you’ve done to yourself, yes? If you are not slain, you face an eternity of obsession, crippling desire, at the expense of other mortals?” his smile remained warm, but the eyes were pinched and worried.
“Yeah, I understand. An eternity without pain from every little human ache. Decades, centuries, maybe millenia where my body never betrays me. Never waking up with incapacitating pain because I slept wrong. And all I have to do to live forever without a single achy broken hip, bolted together spine, or sudden migraine because my aunt opened my curtain...” her eyes had slowly hardened as she spoke.

“...is fuck too much.”

The Winter King nodded at her, and took his lover’s hand. The Lord of Thicket and Rain looked down at the pale hand and cleared his throat.

“I apologize. We fear for the day when another Chosen like the White Beast arises,” he looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath.
“Understandable,” Erin cut in, “but she’s good. She can handle it.”

The dreadnought’s voice was full of steel, and the succubus’ eyes widened as she saw Erin’s hard expression.

“Aww, thanks legs,” she whispered and wiped away a single tear.

The Summer King looked between the two, and a moment of shock passed over his face when he turned back to Layla.

“A demon’s tears… Please, forgive me, but… may I?” he said breathlessly.
“Oh, umm, yeah, sure,” she held out her finger.

The moisture on the end of her finger gathered and coalesced into a droplet, then floated across the table, where it disappeared into the Summer King’s inventory.

“I take it that’s not something you see every day,” Jack commented.
“Demons do not cry, save that it serves their wicked purposes. Regardless, such tears could never be shed in genuine emotion,” he replied.
“Good to know,” the succubus smiled.
“You must understand, Layla, the demons of this world are creatures forged of negative emotion, each one representing a specific vice of mortal passion. Succubi for excessive lust, asmodai for wrath, belial for deceit, leviathan for gluttony, imps for pride, asterai for sloth, and askopos for covetousness. These creatures are no more capable of subverting their nature than mortals are capable of forsaking the air they breathe,” he explained.

“You’re very knowledgeable about demons,” Jack commented.
“He’s very knowledgeable about everything,” the Winter King rolled his eyes with a slight smile.
“Fair ‘nough,” Jack sat back in his chair.

“I get what you’re saying,” Layla sipped her wine. “But I’m not going to start eating people for fun. Well, that’s not true. I’m not going to start eating a whole person for fun. Get me?”
“I believe so,” the Summer King smiled benignly.

“So, back to the immortal monster,” Rory sat his tea cup down.
“The god of the forest is a great beast with a golden skull and a riotous array of colored plumage, over thirty hands and several hundred stone. It has the power to turn men and folk’s minds to unquenchable greed for gold, and to meet its gaze is to be turned to solid gold, which the creature consumes for its nourishment,” the Summer King explained.

“Okay, so it’s a gnarly mind-controlling, gold-medusa monster. Anything else?” Layla picked up something that strongly resembled a grape and tossed it into her mouth.
“Indeed. When slain, its essence retreats to its den, where it forms an indestructible, immovable egg of gold. Three new moons hence, the egg hatches and the beast is born again, stronger than before it was felled,” he replied.

The Winter King set his drink down.

“When you slay the creature, you must consume its soul. It is possible that its essence may flee from the corpse, in which case you may be forced to trek to its den near the western coast and absorb the creature’s power therein,” the silver-haired elf sighed.

“Anythin’ else we should know ‘bout the beastie?” Maggie spoke up.
“It is cunning. As clever as any man, and twice as much so as any beast. It will bait you, draw you into its domain. I resisted the creature’s gaze, but it is likely you will be unable to do so. Kalnaes knows a ritual to restore the body to its flesh, but any pieces the creature consumes will remain missing,” he answered.

“Yeh’ll provide me wit’ the enchiridion fer the ritual?” Maggie asked the golden-haired elf.
“Of course,” he smiled.

“The what?” Erin quirked an eyebrow.
“I’m not sure why our translation power picked ‘enchiridion’ instead of manual or guidebook, but that’s what it is,” Layla raised an eyebrow.

“Because ‘enchiridion’ is the correct word. The most commonly distributed documentation method for magical rituals was established by an ancient Chosen, and that is the name she gave to the written instructions,” the Summer King smiled blithely.

“Well, how ‘bout that,” Jack mumbled.
“What happened to her?” Rory spoke up.

“She was murdered, by the White Beast,” the Winter King growled.
“Man, this bitch has really got to die,” Layla growled back.

“Immortal forest monsters first, ancient omnicidal demigods later,” Rory patted the succubus’ head.

“Alright, we’ll need a night to rest, then directions where to find this thing. Unrelated, do you have any dungeons in your country around the fourth or fifth?” Jack asked.

The Summer King waved his hand and a gently shimmering illusion covered the tabletop, showing the Greenbough in all its glory, with the world tree Verdantes towering over the wide forested canopy. He snapped his finger and a large portion of the western side of the nation turned red, and a single point of red light blazed near the western coast.

“Oh, a bloke could get used to this,” Rory looked down at his panel.

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