Kwerve hummed to herself cheerfully as she incanted a small fire spell, heating her cast-iron skillet to just the right temperature. She deftly poured in a drizzle of oil, then cracked three eggs single-handedly and poured the yolks and whites into the pan. A satisfying sizzle sounded as they began to cook.

“My, you’re quite good at that,” came a voice from the left, startling her. She snapped her head around to see the familiar sight of a tanned, silver-haired foxkin watching her intently.

“Valex!” she exclaimed. “Stop doing that! You scared me!”

Valex looked genuinely contrite as she pressed her hands together in apology and folded her fox ears flat against her head. “Sorry, sorry. Goodness gracious, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you or anything!”

Kwerve took a few deep breaths, and felt her heart calm down. She looked at Valex’s forlorn expression and felt bad; the poor thing seemed genuinely concerned with making a good impression on other people. “No, I’m sorry,” she offered. “I’m just not used to having a ninja fox around, that’s all.”

Valex nodded emphatically, one of her ears peeking up as she wrung her hands. “Y-Yeah, I’ll bet. Sorry if I’m being annoying. It’s just that Nyze and Metokai are off doing their errand with Nilah, and Rixu is still asleep, so I’m kinda bored. A-Anyway, your egg-cracking skill is sublime. It took me nearly a decade to figure out the one-handed thing.”

Kwerve picked up on the hopefulness behind the change in topic and went with the flow; she couldn’t say no to such an earnest girl looking for company. “You cook a lot?”

Valex nodded again, her other ear rising. “Yeah! When I’m home, I love cooking for my wife and son. The expressions they make when they bite into something delicious I made… it's one of the most rewarding moments of parenthood!”

“Oh, you have a son?” Kwerve said, genuinely surprised. Valex looked so young, early twenties at the most. Then again, who knew what the rules were for demons and aging?

Valex half-smiled, and Kwerve picked up on both joy and melancholy in the expression. “Yeah. I may not seem it, but I’m actually 54 years old.”

“Huh.” Kwerve, suddenly jealous, struggled to be diplomatic. “You look… far younger.”

Valex’s smile this time was genuine, and Kwerve noticed her tail’s swishing picked up pace. The foxkin emoted so openly by way of her ears and tail that it was hard not to get caught up in her moods. “Thanks! Although I can’t take credit, I’m afraid. My secret beauty treatment is nothing more than a demonic transformation a few weeks ago. If you had met me before that, I’d definitely look my age.”

“Wow,” Kwerve gawped. “I’m… admittedly jealous. Are you saying demonic transformations can reverse aging?”

“I have no clue,” Valex responded, and pointed to the skillet. Kwerve noticed the eggs were done on one side and quickly flipped them with a small air-elemental spell. “Apparently, most demons can expect to live for seven to ten centuries. By their standard, I’m barely into adulthood.”

“Gosh, imagine that,” Kwerve said wistfully. “Sounds lovely.”

“Mom wants to become a deeeee-mooooon,” came a voice from the doorway. Valex and Kwerve turned to see Xennia leaning on the doorpost, arms folded and grin eating shit. “You should go for it, Mom! I bet you’d become a cool giant spider lady!”

“Don’t project on me, Xennia,” Kwerve said lovingly. “You’re the one who’s into bugs. And the eggs are almost done, so be patient.”

“I’m not projecting!” Xennia shot back. “I wanna be a dragon demon! Huge and cool and fire-breathing!”

“You’d burn down the house, young woman,” Kwerve snorted. “Much safer to turn you into a pixie. Then you’d be easier to handle.”

Xennia responded by sticking out her tongue. Valex, her latent motherly instincts sensing an opportunity, pounced. “So you like dragons, Xennia?”

“Who doesn’t?!” Xennia gushed. “They’re so cool! Big as a city block, powerful enough to destroy armies, and they can burn anything down!”

“Demonic dragons are a bit different from the legends,” Valex cautioned, “but if you help your Mom out by setting the table for breakfast, I might be convinced to tell you all about them.”

“Wait, REALLY?! I’m on it!” Xennia zoomed over to the cupboard and grabbed a stack of plates and silverware, then zoomed back out to the dining room. Words echoed back through the wake of the dust clouds she left behind. “Remember, you promised! No takebacks!”

Valex grinned, then looked over to Kwerve who was giggling softly. She shot the schoolteacher a quizzical look.

“My, you really are good with kids. Your parenting instincts are on point,” Kwerve said as she flipped the cooked eggs onto a waiting plate and cracked a few more into the skillet.

“My son is around her age,” Valex replied, grabbing a pepper shaker off the counter and applying a garnish to the eggs. “Although much less… rambunctious. Nelvarr is so sweet he decays teeth, I swear. Not a rebellious bone in his body.”

“Oh, now I’m really jealous,” Kwerve teased. “Maybe, once this is all over, we should introduce them. Xennia doesn’t have enough friends her age.”

Valex nodded. “Same with Nelvarr. I’d like that, although…” she trailed off, and her mood seemed to drop, if her drooping ears and tail were any indication.

Kwerve decided not to press, and provided a distraction instead. “Valex, could you grab the salt from the cupboard? And the bottle of liquid savory too, if you please.”

“Sure thing!” Valex replied, bounding over to the cupboard. A few minutes later, Valex and Kwerve were happily chatting away like old friends as they prepared breakfast together. Xennia, meanwhile, waited in the dining room, staring at a perfectly set table and tapping her foot impatiently.

“Ugh, what’s taking them so long?”

******

“So none of you are scared by ghosts, right?” Nilah asked as she rattled around her keychain, searching for the right key.

“Nope!” Nyze replied cheerfully, not even having the courtesy to shiver a bit.

“Not at all,” Metokai said flatly. “Several of my friends are ghosts.”

“Why, is this place haunted?” Nyze looked at the abandoned warehouse, which hung on the edge of the Crucible’s grounds like a blight. It was covered over in creeping kudzu vines, and several of the windows were shattered or missing altogether. It certainly gave off a vibe of decay, even moaning like an undead whenever the wind whistled past. All that was missing was thunder and lightning.

“Probably not,” Nilah responded. “This is the old equipment warehouse, which hasn’t been used in three decades. The students are always passing around campfire stories about how it’s haunted by one spirit or another. The latest story seems to be how an old necromancy teacher is killing students and raising them again as a zombie army. You’re not scared of zombies, right?”

“Nope!”

“Several of my friends are zombies.”

Nilah rolled her eyes. “I should have known better than to try out ghost stories on demons. Anyway, the rumors tend to keep students away from this place, and most teachers too.” She finally found the right key and slipped it into the front door’s lock. There was a loud KA-CHUNK, followed by an ominous creaking sound as the door swung open. The sudden intrusion of white moonlight caused several roaches inside to scatter, and illuminated the web of cobwebs that hung from the ceiling.

“Looks musty,” Metokai said as she trotted in without an ounce of fear. She wasn’t one to cower in the presence of malevolent spirits, as any that might deign to curse her wouldn’t be much of a match for her martial and magical prowess.

“It’s a fixer-upper, that’s for sure.” Nyze walked directly behind her, conjuring a little ball of magelight in her palm as she went. She looked at the deep shadows which seemed to dance around them in the flickering pink light, and blepped out her tongue to taste the decay-steeped air. “First thing we should do is put some lights up.”

“Agreed,” Metokai said, conjuring a few larger orbs of white-filtered magelight and blasting them towards the ceiling, where they clung. Several thousand more nocturnal insects scattered away at the sudden flash of illumination, and the walls groaned ominously.

Metokai and Nyze looked at each other. “Did you hear that?” Nyze asked calmly.

“Yeah. Probably just the building settling,” Metokai replied, nodding once.

“You two are impossible,” Nilah grumbled as she followed them in. “You’re not even a little scared? Even if you don’t believe the stories, this place is fucking creepy!”

“We’re demons,” Metokai responded simply. “Creepy is our raison d'etre. If there are ghosts here, we shall simply form an alliance with them.”

“Exactly!” Nyze agreed. “And you should see Psytalla’s castle. It’s, like, literally crammed full of skulls. Tens of thousands of skulls, carved into the walls, furniture and chandeliers. Now that’s creepy!”

“Hush, serpent, you’re making me homesick,” Metokai said wistfully as she began to clear away the cobwebs with puffs of air-elemental magic.

“I’m not sure whether to be impressed or bewildered by you two,” Nilah grumbled. She pointed to a large wolf-spider, which watched the trio while hanging halfway down to the floor from a thin strand of silk. “Not even the spiders creep you out?”

“Nah.”

“Several of my friends are spiders.”

“Dunno why I even bother,” Nilah said with resignation. She incanted a few air-elemental spells of her own to help with clearing the cobwebs.

******

There were not any ghosts in the end, merely lots of bugs and cobwebs. Metokai also noticed some minor architectural flaws that caused the unmaintained structure to periodically shift on its foundation, hence the groaning. After some deep cleaning via air and water elementalism, and placement of magelights all along the ceiling to provide light, the old warehouse’s vibe quickly changed from ‘haunted’ to merely ‘old.’

The pentagram-aspected spell circle Metokai lasered into the wooden floor fit right in with the creepy aesthetic, and Nilah watched with marked interest while the baphomet poured a liquid silvery substance into the grooves. “Is that argentum?”

Metokai nodded. “Sourced straight from the Screaming Forest. It’s the finest magiconductor available.”

Nilah whistled. “I know several mages who’d trade their life savings for that bottle.”

Metokai corked the bottle and slipped it back into hammerspace. “In that case, they should welcome our invasion. The elves do a healthy trade in argentum throughout the entire Demon Realm, so Lyzikanth’s invasion will come as good news to them.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nilah said with a smirk. “You lot will have your work cut out for you, winning over the people’s hearts.”

“Agreed. For that we shall regrettably need a politician, not a High General. Speaking of, serpent, are we ready?”

Nyze nodded. “I’ve placed the sutras at even intervals all around the walls.” She pointed to one of the paper-strips with spell circles plastered nearby. “Go time?”

“Indeed.”

Nyze refracted violet mana within her soul, then shot out tendrils of crackling violet energy towards each of the sutras. They glowed and hummed obligingly. “Dampening field is deployed,” Nyze reported. “Nobody outside of this room will be able to detect either the sound or magic from the teleportation circle.”

“Right.” Metokai placed both her hands above the circle and began to refract black mana, which arced downwards into the argentum and flowed through it like electricity through a wire. Her eyes flashed blue as she sent a telepathic message through the teleportation corridor, then again as she received a response. “They’re on the way. Oh, Nilah?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you do, don’t call the dragon cute. It will end painfully for you if you do.”

“Huh? What do you m-”

Nilah’s question was interrupted by a loud, high-pitched tone. Black-wreathed lightning sprung from the spell circle, followed by a cacophonous double-thunderclap; the sutras on the walls glowed bright purple as they suppressed the noise and mana. A moment later, a tall figure stepped out of the circle. Nilah caught a glimpse of red hair, black eyes and long, pointed elfin ears. A housecat-sized winged lizard with emerald-green scales was perched on his shoulder.

“Councilor Valedor, Councilor Raskellion. Welcome to Lyzikanth,” Metokai said with a small bow.

Valedor held up a finger. “One moment, please. One of my ears won’t pop.” He unceremoniously inserted his pinkie finger into his left ear canal and dug around for a bit; the spectacle left Nilah nonplussed, but Nyze and Metokai looked entirely unconcerned. Valedor withdrew his finger as a look of relief washed over his face. “Ahhhh, that’s much better. I hate long-range teleports.”

“Manners, Vale! Can’t you see there’s a human here?” said the lizard in a voice like a small child as he hopped down from Valedor’s shoulder and pattered over to Nilah. “Sorry for his rudeness. You must be the human Metokai mentioned in her message! I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure; I am Raskellion, representative of the dragons on the Evil Council. The ear-picking lout of an elf is my husband, Valedor, who represents the elvish diaspora.”

“U-Uh…” Nilah said, too taken aback to form words. Her eyes were fixed on the housecat-sized dragon, and his big doe eyes. Despite Metokai’s curt warning, she’d been expecting a dragon to be grand and terrifying, not tiny and adorable. “Y-You’re a d-d-dragon?” she stammered.

“Last I checked,” replied Raskellion, sitting on his haunches and scratching one of his horns with his left hindleg.

“But you’re so cu- ” Nilah gasped as she was interrupted by a sharp jab in her ribs; she looked down to see Metokai, who had crossed the room so quickly Nilah hadn’t even seen her move, poking one paw into her sternum. Metokai’s glare, and her lips pressed into a thin line, silently conveyed a warning: “Don’t you dare.”

“Pardon?” Raskellion asked, tilting his head to the size. The gesture was reminiscent of a cat expecting a tantalizing treat.

Nilah cleared her throat. “I was about to say, you’re the first dragon I’ve met. You’re… different from the stories I’ve heard.” She ignored Metokai’s eyes boring a hole into the side of her skull and continued. “I’m finding that demons, as a whole, are vastly different from what I’d imagined, or should I say, what I’ve been raised to believe.”

Raskellion, fortunately, took the remark well. “Quite understandable, seeing as there hasn’t been extensive contact between demons and humans for over two centuries. It’s my hope that this meeting, this understanding, will be the first of many as our species unite towards a common purpose.”

Nilah couldn’t keep her eyes from narrowing. “Spoken like a true politician.”

“And here I thought I was the smooth talker,” Valedor chuckled, sidling up to the pair and bending over to give his husband a scratch on the noggin. “You don’t trust politicians?”

Nilah folded her arms. “I don’t trust anyone, but that goes double for politicians.” That remark earned a chuckle from Nyze.

Valedor clapped his hands together in delight. “Good, I like that. I didn’t catch your name?”

“Nilah. Ex-assassin, retired adventurer, current headmistress of the Crucible,” she responded cautiously.

“Pleased to know you, Nilah. I trust we’ll be working together quite a bit over the upcoming weeks, and I hope our relationship can be a smooth one. We shall aspire to demonstrate our goodwill through actions, not words.” Without waiting for a response, he turned to Metokai. “Excellent work, High General. Our Whisperers will make good use of this foothold.”

“I only wish we’d kept our schedule,” Metokai responded with a hint of bitterness. “We’re two days behind already, and it’s too late for us to set out again today. For that purpose, we’ll have to skip our next two stops and make straight for Vuzukanth, and then Arcryid immediately thereafter.”

“Not a topic of concern, I assure you,” Valedor said with his best approximation of a reassuring smile. “Covert operations seldom go as planned, and your success here is to be commended. I’ll dispatch Whisperer teams to Mesonida and Aerykanth to make up the difference.”

“Thank you,” Metokai responded, allowing a bit of genuine relief to creep into her voice. “In that case, please remain in full consultation with Nilah regarding aspects of human culture your teams will need to be aware of. Failing to heed these cultural differences may result in mission failure, a lesson I learned rather painfully.”

“Duly noted,” Valedor said, before turning to Nilah and smiling. “It seems I shall be in your care.”

“And don’t fucking forget it,” Nilah responded, sticking her tongue out.

Valedor chuckled. “I shan’t, trust me.”

“One last matter,” Metokai said, producing two wax-sealed envelopes from hammerspace and handing them to Valedor. “Please see to it these missives are delivered. One is for the Demon Lord, the other is for Raskivia.”

“Oh, my!” Valedor said in mock surprise as he examined the letters. “Are you sending secret letters to my daughter without even asking permission first? How scandalous, High General!”

The cataclysmic glare Metokai fixed on Valedor caused him to shrink back two steps. The seething baphomet annunciated her next words clearly, and put enough force behind them to shatter marble. “My communications with VICE GENERAL Raskivia are always purely professional, Councilor. See to it you hold yourself to the same standard.”

“M-My apologies,” Valedor said with wide eyes. “I was just making a little joke.”

“Very little,” Metokai responded, and turned away to signal the end of the conversation.

Raskellion, ever the longsuffering balance to his husband’s occasional bouts of poor judgement, sighed and hopped back on Valedor’s shoulder. “Maybe that’s enough japery for one day, dear. Piss off the High General any further, and she won’t leave a corpse to resurrect.” A soft hmph from Metokai emphasized that point beautifully.

The forlorn Valedor looked at Metokai for a moment, considering his options, then decided with a sigh that the matter wasn’t worth pursuing any further. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked back to the teleportation circle, then extended his hands and shot a blast of black lighting into it. His eyes flashed blue, and after another lightning-and-thunderclaps show, three elves clad head-to-toe in featureless black armor with full-face helmets stepped out. Without waiting for orders, they began to move around the room and cast various spells on the walls and floor. The circle kept crackling, splitting out more and more covert operations elves until the room was filled with two dozen of them, busy setting up their new headquarters.

Valedor turned to a wide-eyed Nilah, a glowering Metokai and a smirking Nyze. He scratched his husband’s head as he spoke.

“Let the invasion begin.”

******

“I’m not sure what to make of that elf,” Nilah mused as she, Metokai and Nyze left the Whisperers to their business.

“Valedor? He’s harmless,” Nyze said with a slight smile. She pattered over to Metokai on glamoured feet and took the tiny baphomet by the hand. “Kind of an idiot, though. He struck a nerve without realizing it.”

“He’s a consummate politician,” Metokai spat. She felt Nyze squeeze her hand and relaxed a bit. “Self-interested, concerned with position, and far too obsessed with being everyone’s friend. Fortunately, his interests align with ours.”

“Not a fan of politicians?” Nilah asked, looking at Metokai sympathetically.

“To put it mildly. Sadly, my position requires me to interact with them far too frequently. I prefer a battle of blades to a battle of words; the former is far more honest.”

“I’m in full fucking agreement there,” Nilah said approvingly. “So you lot will be staying in Lyzikanth one more night? Good call, the White Moon is already low on the horizon. Bad to ride out while the day is old.”

Nyze nodded. “Yes, which…”

“That means you’re staying with us,” Nilah said, pre-empting Nyze’s request. “On that topic, I have one last stop to make before we go home.”

******

“WE’RE HOME!” Nilah shouted as she slammed open the front door. Valex and Xennia, who were sitting on the floor of the living room surrounded by a dozen sheets of paper, looked up and gawped.

“Is that a boar?!” Valex gasped, pointing to the large, dead swine Nilah had thrown over her shoulder.

“Yup,” Nilah responded as she stepped in the entryway and kicked off her shoes, with Nyze and Metokai on her heels. “Tonight is your last night with us, so I wanted to do something special for dinner. I got this baby fresh from the butcher.” Nilah stared at the sheets of paper surrounding the duo, which were covered with colorful scribblings. “Are those crayon drawings?!”

“Yup!” Valex said proudly, holding up a rather abstract sketch of a winged... entity. “I was describing different kinds of demons to Xennia, and decided to create some visual aids!”

Nilah raised an eyebrow as she looked at the foxkin’s scrawl, which resembled a hairball with horns, wings and four legs. “That’s, uh...”

“Don’t judge!” Xennia scolded, springing to her feet. “I’m a visual learner, and Valex was kind enough to indulge me. Art skills are irrelevant with crayons!”

“Oh, I wasn’t judging,” Nilah replied breezily. “I’m the one lugging a giant dead pig. Speaking of, kiddo, can you keep Nyze and Metokai company for a while? I got some serious cooking to do.”

“Yeah, sure,” Xennia responded while Nilah charged into the kitchen. A few seconds later, a bewildered-looking Kwerve exited the same door Nilah had entered.

“I’ve been booted out of the kitchen,” she grumbled. “Nilah’s on a mission. She says dinner will be ready in three hours, and to not bother her until then.”

“She never does anything by half-measures, that’s for sure,” Metokai muttered as she dispelled her glamour.

“It’s part of her charm,” Nyze replied.

Valex held up a blank sheet of paper and a box of crayons. “While we wait, wanna do some demonic crayon drawings with us? I asked Rixu to join, but he just grumbled a refusal and stormed off to sulk somewhere. Spoilsport!”

Kwerve shrugged. “Sure. Are you in, Nyze and Metokai?”

“Gods,” Nyze said as she released her own glamour, “I haven’t used crayons since I was a toddler. Sure, I’m in.”

“What’s a crayon?” Metokai asked, studying the colorful sticks of wax warily. “Are they edible?”

******

“So as you can see,” Metokai said, pointing to the elaborate series of crayon-rendered spell circles she had drawn on a dozen sheets of paper taped to the wall, “the initial transformation of runes in the first line of the spell requires an oversurge of entropic mana, whereas the third transformation switches to several smaller, timed surges of laser mana. As a result, the generated lasers skim the event horizon of the singularity, without passing over the threshold, and have their paths changed by the extreme gravitation. This can be used to-”

Her rambling was interrupted by a loud snoring sound. She narrowed her eyes and glared at Valex, who was currently faceplanted in Kwerve’s lap and very obviously asleep. Nyze, Kwerve and Xennia wore soporific expressions themselves, eyes glazed over.

“Oh well,” Metokai said nonchalantly, “she’s going to miss the best part. As I was saying, the lasers are aimed by the gravitation, and subsequently--”

“DINNER’S READY!” Nilah proclaimed loudly as she exited the kitchen, clad in an apron and wielding a ladle like a weapon.

“Oh thank fuck,” Xennia said, bounding to her feet and dashing into the kitchen without a second thought.

“But I’m not finished with my…” Metokai protested.

“Another time, perhaps,” Nyze said as she slithered after Xennia.

As Kwerve gently shook Valex awake, she shot Metokai a sympathetic glance. “All due respect, Metokai, as I can tell this is a subject you’re enthusiastic about, but… you need to spice up your lectures. Remember, didacticism is only the beginning of education.”

“What are you talking about? This subject is extremely fascinating!” Metokai huffed.

“I don’t doubt it, and your passion is commendable. Just… try to have more fun with it next time, hmm? Now come, I believe Nilah’s prepared a feast for us.” She gently steered the still-sleepy Valex into the kitchen by the shoulders.

Metokai took one last look at her crayon spell circles, let out a mighty ha-rumph, and then clacked after the rest.

******

“Wow, this looks amazing!” Rixu gushed excitedly as he looked at the table spread, which Nilah lorded over proudly.

Valex scowled at the prodigal man and rolled her eyes. “Leave it to Rixu to show up right when the food is served,” she tutted.

“Priorities, Valex, priorities,” he responded smugly.

The spread was indeed an impressive one. At the center of the table was a spit-roasted boar, marinated in plum sauce and stuffed with mushrooms, chestnuts, chopped apples and onions. To suit the cliché, it had a whole apple in its mouth. Surrounding it were several side-dishes, including demoned eggs, scalloped potatoes and green bean casserole. A barrel of mead with a spigot garnished the whole affair, surrounded by a nest of steins. It was definitely the kind of hearty feast a band of active adventurers would enjoy.

“Besides,” Rixu said haughtily, “you seem to be drooling yourself, Valex.”

“Shut up, Rixu,” Valex said, wiping her chin on her sleeve.

“Can you blame her?” Nyze said, her own mouth watering profusely. “This looks delicious.”

“You really outdid yourself this time, dear.” Kwerve said, sidling up to her wife’s side.

Nilah nodded, then took a deep breath. “If I may be serious for a moment, everyone… this feast is meant to be my apology to all of you.”

Nyze tilted her head. “Apology?”

Nilah lowered her head guiltily. “I wanted to apologize to my wife and daughter for skulking around on another one of my secretive adventures without telling them, and making them worry when I didn’t come home. And I wanted to apologize to Nyze, Metokai, Rixu and Valex for suspecting them of malfeasance simply because of who they are, and who they work for. I rushed to judgement, and handled the situation in the poorest way possible. I fucked up in a lot of ways, and I’m sorry.” She pressed her hands together and bowed deeply.

“It’s alright, dear. We forgive you,” Kwerve said, giving her wife’s arm a squeeze.

“Yeah!” Xennia said with a grin. “Just don’t do it again.”

“In truth, Nilah, your interference aided the ultimate end of our mission, albeit at a cost of time. We shall look on this as a teachable moment,” Metokai said.

“Plus, if you hadn’t interfered, I never would have met Kwerve or Xennia!” Valex added fondly.

“And I would never have reunited with my beloved teacher,” Nyze concluded. “We made the best of a bad situation, and everyone came out on top in the end, so everything’s good!”

“I’m… glad that you’re all being so gracious about this,” Nilah said, wiping her eyes. “Well, that said, shall we dig in?”

There was a loud round of cheering as Nilah produced a knife and began to carve up the boar.

******

Half an hour into the feast came the time for drinks; indeed, for Adventurers and demons alike, it would not be a proper meal without a hearty tankard of ale, or something harder.

“C’mon, I want some too!” Xennia said bitterly as she made grabby hands at the flagons of mead Nyze handed out.

“When you’re older, kid,” Nilah responded. “I’ve got some grape juice for you.”

“I don’t want grape juice! I want mead!” she pouted.

Nilah shook her head firmly. “Teenagers shouldn’t drink. And that’s final.”

Xennia made doe-eyes at Kwerve, who backed up her wife without hesitation. “Nope. No underage drinking in this house.”

Xennia let out a loud growl of frustration and slumped back in her chair. “Bullshit. Not fair.”

“Language, young woman,” Kwerve scolded. “It’s for your own good, trust me.”

“Ughhhhh,” Xennia grumbled, reluctantly sipping the grape juice. “I bet they’d let me have mead in the Demon Realm.”

“Actually,” Metokai said, taking a sip of her own mead, “most demons aren’t considered adults until they reach age 50 to 100, depending on the species. By our reckoning, you’d need to be at least 35 years older.”

Kwerve leaned forwards. “That’s actually really interesting to me. There are a lot of cultural differences between humans and demons that will become apparent in the coming years, I’m sure.”

“Without a doubt,” Metokai confirmed. “For example, even some of our food names are different.” She pointed over to the dish of hard-boiled eggs, which had been peeled, cut in half, and seasoned with a mixture of paprika, mustard and pepper. “You call these ‘demoned eggs,’ which just sounds odd to me.”

“I suppose it would,” Nilah said, snatching up one of the eggs and popping it in her mouth. “What do you call them in the Demon Realm?”

“Dagwood eggs.”

Nilah did a double-take. “Dagwood eggs? What’s with that name?”

Metokai shrugged. “The etymology is uncertain. Prevailing thought indicates they were first distributed widely by a restaurateur named Dagwood, although records are spotty.”

“Huh.”

“Despite the differences,” Nyze interjected, “I think demons and humans have more in common than anything. There will be some culture shock, and conflicts as well, but those will be nothing more than growing pains. Ultimately, I think both human and demonkind will be enriched.”

Metokai took one of the demoned/Dagwood eggs for herself, spearing it on one of her claws. “Precisely, serpent. There’s an old demonic expression that goes, ‘Greet the stranger with knife in open palm, and coin in closed fist.’”

Everyone looked at Metokai in confusion, and she frowned as she popped the egg in her mouth.

“Really? None of you have heard that one before? Well, it means that, in order to forge agreeable relationships with new people, one must first demonstrate their strength to ensure they receive respect. Then they demonstrate their goodwill through generosity of goods and spirit. In our own way, we’ve managed to do that here in Lyzikanth, and the Whispers will carry on our work.”

Nilah chucked dryly. “A beautiful sentiment, for all the fuckery it entails. Still, these are exciting times. I’m looking forward to the challenge.”

“As are we,” Metokai said, taking another sip of her mead to wash the egg down.

“So now that your mission in Lyzikanth is wrapped up, what’s next for you lot?” Kwerve asked as she bit into a hunk of boar meat.

“More infiltrations. We’re heading for Vuzukanth next, then Arcryid itself,” Nyze answered, licking some mustard off her finger.

“Hopefully our next attempt will go far more smoothly,” Metokai added wistfully.

“Oh, I’m sure it will,” Valex mused, cheekily tempting fate. “We’ve stockpiled enough bad karma in Lyzikanth that we’re due for some luck at our next stop.”

“Don’t jinx it, Valex,” Rixu warned.

Nyze, wanting to preserve the hopeful moment, decided to inject some optimism. “Honestly, I think we’ll be fine going forward. Provided we can avoid any more unexpected reunions with old friends, that is.”

“Or old enemies,” Metokai added.

“I’ll toast to that.” Nyze grabbed her flagon and held it high, towards the center of the table. Everyone else obligingly clinked their own flagons against it, with well-wishes all around. Even the petulant Xennia joined in.

“Best of luck to our new demon friends,” Nilah proposed. “To the journey.”

“To the journey,” everyone else echoed.

******

Diarn lost his grip on his feather duster as he sneezed once, twice, then a third time. He shook his head to clear it.

“Bless you,” Tessaria said, not looking over from her own dusting. “And cover your mouth next time, for fuck’s sake. This is a brothel, not a whorehouse.”

Diarn very much wanted to ask what the difference between those two things was, but decided against it. “Sorry. Dunno what came over me.”

“Maybe someone’s talking about you behind your back?” Tessaria suggested.

Diarn’s stomach sank; he certainly hoped that wasn’t true. He very much wanted to live his new life unnoticed by the world at large, peacefully and quietly with his new friends. “C’mon now, there’s no way. That’s just a silly superstition. I sneezed because of all this dust.”

“If you say so.”

After a moment’s fretting, Diarn shoved that thought aside and went back to his work.