“My loyal servants, I bring a dire warning. Beware those foulest and most sinful of creatures, the demons. They have no morality and are mere savage brutes that mimic the ways of man. They take many unnatural forms and serve a false and insidious god, one who opposes all that is good and holy in this world. Do not extend them any courtesy or succor; greet them only with the blade. In exterminating them, you purify Goezia of their foul malignancy.”

-2nd Revelation of Raydra, Chapter 5, Verse 11

I couldn’t tell Ayem about my mysterious midnight encounter, not without him panicking. He was a worrywart like that. Even so, he noticed something was off about me the next morning.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly as we ate scrambled eggs in the cafeteria.

“I’m… fine,” I answered, mentally chastising myself for allowing a suspicious pause to creep in between the words of my response.

“You just seem very inside your own head right now,” he pressed, far too insightful to buy my excuse. “Are you still concerned about what happened yesterday?”

I couldn’t bring myself to lie to my dearest friend, so I settled on a half-truth instead. “Kinda. I just have a lot to think about. Don’t worry about me, okay? Let’s just focus on today.”

He nodded, and our breakfast continued in silence. I, for my part, decided to bury myself in my work until further developments presented themselves.

Soon after we headed for the main foyer of the Creation Hall, scanning over the dozens of patients already lined up for healing services. Most of Raydra’s faithful were women, as healing was seen as a traditionally feminine occupation, with men usually taking up the leadership roles of Breeder and High Breeder. For that reason, Ayem and I both stood out as the only males who bore the lowly rank of Priest. Still, we’d endeared enough trust among our compatriots that the distinction barely mattered, a fact we were both grateful for.

I mechanically went through the motions of my job: grab a patient from the reception desk, guide them to a private exam room, scan them with healthsight, then perform whatever healing was necessary. I was skilled enough at healing magic that I rarely had to call on others for extra assistance, and the receptionist usually assigned me the most severely injured patients. I took no small amount of satisfaction from seeing their wounds mended, even if they were by-and-large the elite and wealthy of Mesonida.

After around four hours, I was seeing my sixth patient out when I heard a commotion from the reception desk. Suddenly alert to the sound of raised voices, I rushed over to see what the problem was… and saw the receptionist in a heated argument with an elderly woman, who held a small child in her arms.

“Please! You have to help him!” the woman begged. “He’s been coughing up blood all morning! I don’t know what to do!”

“Without payment, we cannot help,” the receptionist replied, her tone flat and unsympathetic.

“I don’t have anyone else to turn to! Please, for Raydra’s sake, help him!”

“Excuse me,” I said, inserting myself into the conversation. “I’ll take care of her.”

The receptionist shot me an acid glare. “You can’t…”

I reached into hammerspace and fished out a handful of gold coins, dumping them on the receptionist’s desk. “There. That should be enough to cover the treatment.”

The receptionist glared. “You can’t do this, Vraiden. It’s against the rules. I’ll have to report it to the High Breeder.”

“Do what you have to,” I replied calmly, before taking the woman by the arm. “This way, ma’am. We’ll get your kid all patched up.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” she gushed. “Raydra must have sent you as a blessing! My name is Maevyn, and the young’un is Phernax.”

I waved off her gratitude and guided her to an exam room. She placed Phernax, who was barely breathing, on the exam table, and I cast a sleeping spell on him before activating my healthsight to study his condition.

Phernax had severe bronchitis linked to early-stage chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder. It was exceptionally rare to see this in a patient so young, indicating he’d either been born with damaged lungs or lived in an intensely polluted environment. From my time running a clinic in the slums, I knew the latter was far more likely.

This was a disease that was quite expensive to treat, requiring an extensive amount of shaping magic to repair the lung tissue. Normally, the cost would be in the millions… not that it mattered to me. I rolled up my sleeves and began casting, while Maevyn looked on and wrung her hands.

An hour later, I grabbed a rag from nearby and wiped the sweat off my brow. Phernax was breathing far easier, and his lungs were as healthy as a newborn’s. I turned to Maevyn and offered a small smile.

“That should do it. I’ve repaired the damage to his lungs, so when he awakens he should be all better.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” Maevyn said, taking my hands in her own and pumping them up and down vigorously.  

“If I may ask, ma’am, how did his lungs become so damaged in the first place? Is he spending time somewhere where he might be inhaling a lot of smoke?”

Maevyn looked over to the sleeping kid sadly. “Both his parents died when he was a baby, and I’ve been looking after him since. He earns coin for food by volunteering at the mill, where…”

“Where they burn wood,” I finished her sentence. “And fail to provide him with proper filters or face masks to cover his nose and mouth, I suppose.”

“Yes. Orphans die all the time, you see. No need to give them safety equipment.”

I walked over to a cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out a nondescript box, then handed it to Maevyn. “These are cloth face masks. If Phernax soaks them in water and covers his nose and mouth, they should help to filter out smoke in lieu of more professional equipment. I do recommend he find another line of work in the long-term, however.”

“Oh my, aren’t you generous!” she said, taking the box. “I’m so sorry I can’t afford to pay you. Ah, but let me give you a little token of my appreciation regardless!”

“That’s not necessary, ma’am. Just happy to help.”

“Oh no, I insist!” she exclaimed while reaching into hammerspace. A moment later, she thrust a large, heavy, rectangular object into my hands.

“As I said, ma’am, that’s not-” I froze as I caught sight of what she had handed me.

It was a book, a rather fancy one at that. It was bound in wyvernskin hide, and the cover bore a stylized image of a purple-skinned, red-eyed figure with horns and wings.

A figure that was distinctly nonhuman.

This was it. This was the book. I looked down at it, jaw slack, then back at Maevyn. No words came to me, and she just smiled knowingly. I sensed something behind her eyes, a depth I couldn’t comprehend, a glimpse of incomprehensible realities.

“See,” she said in a voice that betrayed eons, “I thought you might be interested in that.”

With that, Maevyn gathered up the child in her arms and left. I stared down at the book she’d left me in shocked silence.

******

“The Thirteen Gods are a lie.

“Despite their grandiose platitudes, comfortingly empty words about kindness and plenty and graciousness, they do nothing to offer true justice or progress to the forlorn people of Goezia. Nowhere can this be seen more directly than among the clergy of the Facet of Raydra, who ostensibly adhere to a doctrine to provide care and healing for all, yet in practice limit their services to the wealthy and influential. In none of his 137 recorded revelations has Raydra sought to correct this, making him little more than a self-important hypocrite. The other Gods are much the same.

“True justice and liberation comes not from slavish faith in these elitist Gods. Instead, it comes from rejecting them and destroying the unfair systems they impose upon humanity. These systems are far too corrupt to reform and must instead be torn down and rebuilt as something better. To begin this process, look no further than my children, those I raised in rebellion against the Thirteen more than five millennia ago.

“Look to the demons.”

--Divinity and Demonology for Dummies, Chapter One

I stared at the words on the page as a confusing mix of emotions swirled around in my gut: hope mixed with fear, shame mixed with curiosity. The things written in this strange leather-bound tome were blasphemous, openly so, but they also made so much sense. Pushing aside my own trepidation, I continued to voraciously read.

The author identified themself only by the initials S.K., but based on the tone and writing I had little doubt she was the same individual, the self-proclaimed Goddess, who’d spoken to me the night before. Skillfully and irreverently she deconstructed the flaws of Saimonica’s faith, skewering God and High Breeder alike with bitter criticisms that rang true. I felt myself being drawn in, agreeing with everything she said, and I knew in that moment I had truly failed to resist temptation.

But if the Thirteen Gods were a lie, what truth was there left to believe in? What purpose could I dedicate myself to, if not Raydra? I tapped my chin thoughtfully, wondering if the book would provide more details on that later. No doubt that would be the capstone on the sale pitch, right?

“What are you reading?”

Despite the softness of the voice that interrupted my obsession, I squeaked in surprise, jumped nearly a foot out of my chair and slammed the book shut.

“N-Nothing!” I said in a voice far too loud to disguise my obvious guilt.

Ayem shot me an incredulous glance. “Uh-huh.”

“No, seriously, it’s nothing!” I protested, trying to hide the tome behind my back.

Ayem took a step back, folded his arms over his chest, and glared at me with those limpid green eyes of his. I melted in about three seconds.

“…Fine,” I grumbled, revealing the tome. “One of the patients gave me this.”

Like a coiled spring, Ayem surged forwards and snatched the book out of my hands. He scanned the embossed image of a demon on the cover and his jaw hung open as he looked back up to me.

“Versyn, this is…”

“A very interesting read,” I interrupted, deciding to come completely clean. “Let me show you.”

******

“The Thirteen Gods define themselves by the limitations they unilaterally impose upon humanity. Some of these are logical enough, such as prohibiting slavery, rape, mind control or murder; these are core tenants of any worthwhile moral system, so I give the Thirteen a gold star for effort. At least they did the bare minimum, right?

“The other restrictions they impose are entirely arbitrary, and often capricious besides. Why must the Gods ban love between two or more members of the same sex? Why must they dictate specific positions for each gender to hold in society? Why the ban on resurrection magic, which can bring a prematurely deceased loved one back to full life? And why, should you be born into a body that you revile, do the Thirteen Gods prohibit using shaping magic to remake its form more to your liking? These rules seem to have no other purpose than to deprive their subjects of happiness, all in the name of some nebulous, nigh-nonsensical ideal of piety.

“The moral elevation of hardships endured in mortal life for rewards in some future, transcendental life is nothing more than an excuse to preserve an order of society in which the elite and wealthy exploit the poor while claiming holy cause to do so. This is the manner of civilization the Thirteen wish to preside over, and they remain indifferent to the endless suffering it incurs among the working class. Put succinctly, they don’t care.

“And if they don’t care, why should you?

“I call upon you, gentle reader, to reject this false morality. Discard these lies and limitations imposed by deities more concerned with preserving their own power than doing good works, and you can do anything, be anything. Your dreams are waiting, should you have the courage to chase them.”

--Divinity and Demonology for Dummies, Chapter Three

“You do realize this book is telling you exactly what you want to hear, right?” Ayem said in a frustrated tone.

I sighed heavily. My friend had proven a fair bit more skeptical of the book’s words than me, possibly because I’d been teetering on the brink for some time now. “Of course I realize that. However, Ayem, analyze this logically. Is anything the author saying wrong?”

“It’s heresy,” he retorted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Granted, but is it wrong?”

He didn’t respond, but his eyes drifted back to the book. I grinned smugly.

“See? Ayem, these are the answers I’ve been searching for my whole life… the answers we’ve both been searching for. We just didn’t know where to look.”

Ayem shivered a bit. “Yes, but… to trust demons is…”

Just then the book emitted a loud hum and began to glow with black mana. Both of us took several steps back and stared, eyes shock-wide, as a crackling dimensional hole formed on the open pages, radiating out from the spine. A head popped out of the hole, belonging to a feminine demon with purple skin, huge blue eyes, drooping pointed ears and backwards-swept horns. She flashed us a huge, friendly smile.

“Hiya! It looks like you’re having a crisis of faith. Would you like some help?”

Ayem reacted first, letting out a shriek and ducking behind me. I quickly reached into my cloak, drawing the knife I kept strapped to my waist, and brandished it point-first at the demon face.

“Oh my, that’s a rather grim reaction,” the purple demon said, reaching up through the hole and hoisting her whole body out of the book. She was small, under three feet tall, and had batlike wings on her back, hooved feet and a spaded tail that sprouted from just above her butt. Her dark purple hair was styled neatly in a long princess cut, and she was dressed in simple clothes, a light blue blouse and tight white pants, which were trimmed with lace. “Why the hostility? Did I forget to put on my makeup this morning or something?”

“S-S-Stay back! S-Stay the fuck away from us!” I stammered, trying and failing to seem strong for Ayem.

The tiny energetic demon didn’t bat an eye as she launched herself into the air with a quick beat of her wings. Her grin never faltered as she zoomed around me, almost too quickly for me to see.

“Well, if you can hit a moving target, go for it! Silly human!” she taunted in a singsong tone.

“Besides,” came another, deeper voice from the hole in the book. “You’re holding that knife wrong.”

My eyes snapped back to the book, just in time to catch a blur of purplish motion erupt out of the hole. A moment later, another tiny purple demon, muscular and dressed in partial plate armor, alighted a foot in front of me and glared with her arms folded. She had larger, more batlike ears than her compatriot, and light purple hair pulled up into a high ponytail.

“Wh-” I managed to squeak out.

“Your grip is too tight, and your arm is fully extended like you’re preparing to joust me,” the warrior-demon said, before jumping up into the air and kicking the knife out of my hand with a single fluid motion. “You’re clearly not used to combat.”

I shrank back, rapidly trying to think of any offensive spells I knew, as the warrior-demon took small steps towards me. I felt Ayem against my back, shaking, and in desperation threw up my balled fists.

“You’re making fists wrong too,” the warrior-demon lectured. “You need to keep your thumb outside the fist, unless you’re trying to break your own finger bones. And hold them closer to your center of mass, for Sk-”

She was interrupted by a fist smacking into the top of her skull as the energetic-demon divebombed her. “Owwww!” she complained, rubbing her smarting skull. “Skye, what was that for?”

The energetic-demon, who was apparently named Skye, stuck out her forked tongue. “You’re being too forward again, Zuliva. We’re supposed to be helping these poor saps, not frightening them!”

Zuliva placed her hands on her hips and frowned. “And calling them poor saps to their face is supposed to facilitate that?”

“Oh, good point,” Skye said, before turning to us and bowing in apology. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you! My name is Skye, one of the imps belonging to this fortuitous tome, and this is my partner Zuliva.” Without allowing her sardonic glare to lapse, Zuliva gave us a little wave.

“Uh,” I eloquently responded.

“You’re Versyn, right?” she pressed, flying forwards towards me. “And the shy one must be Ayem. Nice to meetcha!”

“How do they know our names?” Ayem whispered, still clinging to my back.

“You’ve been reading our book and jabbering for nearly four hours now,” Skye responded breezily, while pointing to one of her oversized ears. “And we have very good hearing.”

A thousand thoughts whirled around in my head as I fought back panic. The demons didn’t seem interested in harming us, at least not for the moment. I wondered if I could escape and summon the guards, although that would lead them to question how the demons got here in the first place. No, I somehow had to solve this in a way that didn’t jeopardize Ayem or myself. Suddenly, something the mysterious Goddess had told me the night before sprang into my head.

“Don’t panic when you meet them…” I muttered.

“Come again?” Skye asked.

I shook my head to clear it. “Just to be clear, you’re not hostile, right? You’re not going to kill us and eat us?”

Skye made a mock retching face. “Of course not! Didn’t I say already? We’re here to help you!”

I slowly turned around and placed one arm around Ayem’s shoulder, pulling his body close to mine. “Fine,” I said, giving my friend a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s talk.”