The myth that followed halflings from birth ‘til death was that they were promiscuous. Not that anyone could really tell, beneath the armor and capes, that Dulcen was part elf and part dwarf. But incisive people could tell.

So he wasn’t truly surprised that this young woman looking for adventure had wrapped herself around his arm. Surely she enjoyed feeling as if she was the one with power over him. He wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Similar things had happened before. He just had to talk her down, maybe give her a pittance—tenderly caress her hair or something—and get out of it.

They faced each other in a one-person bathroom. The lamp above was flickering and pathetic. It glowed with a greenish-blue light that was common in these parts and made the bathroom nauseating.

“Alright,” said Dulcen, shifting his capes off of his armor, “you interrupted a good meal for this.”

The woman smiled up at him with hands behind her back. “This isn’t about what I want,” she said. “It’s about what you want.”

Dulcen looked up and away, thinking, Oh. Really. Okay. He lifted off his helmet—either his scarred-up features would scare her away or she’d fawn over them all the more. She didn’t budge.

“I’m serious,” she said. “I’m giving myself to you. So what would you like? What do you most desire?”

And she lifted a vial out from her pocket and uncorked it. The vial was tiny, yet its clouds spread around her in amazing billows of pinks and cream-orange, nearly filling the room.

Something hit Dulcen in his soul. This woman had let down her guard for an instant as she uncorked the miasma. She didn’t just have an enchantment so potent it should be impossible. She was the impossible—a demon—and the power emanating from her uncapped soul proved that.

Dulcen had a good “sixth sense” for that, compared to other mortals, anyway. That’s what a touch of soul magic could do for you.

The clouds faded and the woman changed, metamorphosized, into a figure out of fairytales. A sylph the same color as the clouds she emerged from, the fine tips of her fingers and wafting, undulating hair faded like steam. Her skin was perfect, soft porcelain. Cat’s irises gave a welcome stroke of wildness. She wore nothing, and her full breasts cast soft shadows.

She extended her arms toward him. Clearly she wanted to clasp her hands around his neck and let the arms hang loose like luminant scarves.

Dulcen stayed pragmatic. She was enchanting—divine—not an answer to his fantasies, but an archetypal woman who tries to answer them all—and beyond all that, she was a demon, and he was mortal. A wrong move could end him. Yet he remained stubborn. He crossed his arms and said, “You’re giving yourself to me. Why?”

Her laughter was a warm, crackling flame. She said, “I must’ve forgotten to mention. I want a getaway. I’m an underling trapped in a lord’s castle and I want out.”

“For a day?”

“No,” she said, cocking her head. “Forever.”

She eased her arms around his shoulders, languorous, and looked up at him. Her breath was hot against his face, and he felt sure her body was as hot as inferno—he feared his armor would melt.

“I’m just some guy,” he said.

“A powerful guy,” she countered.

“Surely you can make it out here yourself?”

“I’ve spent all of five minutes on Gaia. I don’t know what it’s like.”

He reached up to scratch the back of his head. “I have a travel guide you can borrow.”

A switch went off in her brain.

“No!” she yelled. “I want a companion, a subject, something, you know, like a sexy liege that demons sometimes have!”

“That’s it,” said Dulcen with a smile. “There’s the true self.” He liked seeing demons break.

The sylph stepped back and twisted her arm. After another flood of transforming clouds she became...a pretty short and unimpressive demidog.

“I don’t like you anyway,” said Dobie bitterly. He took a fighter’s stance and palmed his sword.

But Dulcen didn’t reciprocate. “Hey, godspeed, man,” he said with a smirk and a phony salute. “Go find the mortal of your dreams. Preferably one who likes you back?”

“You mean you’re not gonna try to kill me?”

“Nah,” said Dulcen. Once he’d had his fun with prey, the killing instinct was pretty much gone. Today’s mystery was solved, at least to his own satisfaction. “If you don’t watch out, they will.”

He pointed to the door. Dobie had dutifully locked it earlier, but it had been rumbling for the past several seconds -- and now it was about to burst free.

“You better run,” said Dulcen casually. Dobie set himself in place as if about to try a marathon.