“Why should we trust you?” Seyari asked before Isidore had even started to speak.

The middle-aged Ordian man kept a level gaze at Seyari. “Trust me to do what, exactly? Or do you mean whether you should trust my information?”

“Both,” Seyari and I answered at the same time.

Isidore leaned back in his chair. “I will answer both then. I was kicked out of the University of Ardath for my research into demons and the methodology I employed. I desire to determine the nature of demons and construct a universal theory governing their formation, growth, and disintegration. What I have to tell you are only my theories, but I believe them to be correct. My motives are and always have been my own.”

“Methodology?” Seyari raised an eyebrow.

“Disintegration?” I gripped the armrests of the chair and leaned forward.

Isidore raised a hand to cut off our protests. “Human experimentation. And Zarenna won’t have to worry about disintegration.” Seyari looked about ready to cut him off, but he continued. “My subjects were convicted of grievous crimes. Most had already been sentenced to death.”

Seyari tilted her head down to glare at the floor instead of him.

“That’s still wrong,” I asserted.

Isidore looked at me carefully. “Is it? Perhaps. I hold no remorse for my actions, nor do I seek to defend them. How you judge me is your own choice to make.”

“What about what you know? How do you know you’re right?” Seyari asked pointedly without looking up.

Isidore looked offended. “I went further into my research than any record which two decades of searching using the University’s resources could provide. Between what I found at the University and what I have learned through my wife, I do not know of anyone with greater knowledge in the field of demonology.”

Seyari looked up. She and Isidore stared at each other. I looked back and forth between them and bit my lower lip with a fang. Just as I was about to speak up, Isidore broke their staring contest.

“I believe you, but I don’t like you,” Seyari stated when the other man looked away.

“I’m not asking you to like me,” Isidore replied smoothly.

“Hey, can we have this talk about demons now? I want to know what I am,” I interjected with as bright a tone as I could muster.

No one spoke. The tension in the room froze, and slowly began to drain away. I really didn’t want the two to fight. The truth was, Isidore’s past had disturbing implications that he clearly didn’t care to move beyond. I didn’t particularly like him either, but I didn’t think he’d try anything, even if his anger had flared when Seyari called his knowledge into question. Isidore’s passion was undeniable, I needed information, and hearing it from him wouldn’t hurt anything.

Silence stretched on. I ate another tea cake—I wanted the recipe. Seyari and Isidore sipped their tea.

After a minute, Isidore broke the silence. “What should I assume you already know about demons?” he asked.

I hummed in thought. “Assume I don’t know anything a trade worker from Edath Province wouldn’t know.”

“Understood. Considering that, since the Ordian Civil War, Edath Province has become the semi-autonomous Kingdom of Edath, I trust that you’ve been away for a while.” Isidore fixed me with an earnest gaze.

I took note of the streaks of gray starting to run through his dark brown hair.

“Eight years,” I replied. I wasn’t certain it was exactly eight, but I saw no reason to let Isidore know that.

“Hmm. That won’t affect our discussion, but you may want to ask Lilly about the civil war over dinner. She keeps better apprised of world events than I do these days.” Isidore turned to Seyari. “What about your knowledge?”

“I know only that Zarenna’s symbol dates back primarily to Lost Era civilizations. Regarding demons, I used to be an Inquisitor with the Church of Dhias,” she replied in a steady tone.

My eyes widened in surprise. I hadn’t expected Seyari to reveal that fact. Then again, Isidore was the first person she’d met who could give her answers in over three decades of searching.

“An Inquisitor?” Isidore looked her up and down. “Just as well you’re no longer associated with them.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, lifting his glasses slightly. “I will start with the basics then, since neither of you have significant prior knowledge.”

“You mean to say the Church doesn’t know their stuff, right?” I asked.

“I would hope you understood that, yes. The Church knows very little of demonology and teaches none of what they do know, preferring to stick with fable and falsehood. The Inquisition knows some practical matters related to tracking and fighting demons, I will concede, but their theory is entirely incorrect.”

I felt anger flaring from Isidore before he clamped down on it. Clearly, the man had a bone to pick with the Church. Given he married the Sovereign of Lust, this wasn’t exactly a surprise. I wanted to ask after that thread, but held my tongue.

Isidore coughed lightly. “However, we are not here to discuss inaccuracies in common doctrine, but rather the actual nature of things. To start, demons are formed from strong lingering emotions which fracture souls wholly or in-part upon someone or something’s death.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes, really,” Isidore sighed. “Like shards of souls that are large enough not to dissipate gather together in the void. Demonic-aspected mana binds the fragments together into an amalgam, pulling the resultant demon-to-be to the demonic plane, or ‘hell’ if you prefer.”

“Why is there demonic mana in the void?” Seyari asked.

Isidore took a moment to answer. I sat in my chair wide-eyed. I had some very clear memories of my time between my death and rebirth as a demon. What if the memories were fragments of souls? What does that mean for Abby, my mother, and Abby’s nan? I didn’t share any of Abby’s memories, but I was certain that she was in the void with me. She gave me my name there. I made a promise to her to live as we would both want.

Across from me, Isidore continued with his head inclined toward Seyari. “Both angelic, or ‘holy’ if you prefer, mana and demonic mana diffuse from their relative planes into the emptiness of the void. Both are, hmm, closer is the simplest word—though not entirely accurate—to the void than the material plane.”

“What happens to the souls that break?” I asked with trepidation in my voice.

“Break is not quite the correct term, Zarenna. Most souls do not suffer more than what would amount to chips off a relatively large rock, if they suffer anything. Souls from which a large enough fragment, relative to their size of course, breaks off have the remainder dissipate into the void.”

“What happens to those large fragments?” My voice wavered.

“They form greater demons. The more complete the fragment, the more conscious memories of the former soul the demon retains. Typically, one large fragment serves as the anchor for many small ones.”

I looked down at my lap and the lower arms I held across it. Was I no longer the same person? Was I just a demon with memories of who someone else was?

“Can a demon ever be the person they were before?” I asked quietly, without looking up.

Isidore’s tone softened. “Truthfully, I do not know. In theory, it would be possible for a soul that is effectively complete to be converted. I can assure you the likelihood of that is slim. There are some Lost Era texts which allude to such a practice, though nothing is known for sure. Amalgam souls form such that they try to make a complete soul from parts and pieces. At least some break would have to be present for such a process to occur.”

I looked up with wet eyes for a moment, drying them with the back of a wrist. I’d just started to understand, and now nothing made sense. Seyari reached over and took one of my lower hands with a soft squeeze.

“Could her symbol indicate such a thing?” Seyari asked.

“Just so, I would imagine. Zarenna, you act unusually human. If it would be acceptable, may I ask if you have ever been to the demonic plane?”

I shook my head.

“Then I would imagine you are indeed a terrestrial demon. Such beings are created when the amalgam soul is ejected into the material plane rather than pulled to the demonic realm. The influence of demonic mana is less, and as a result terrestrial demons tend to be more emotionally diverse and stable. They are also less weak to angelic mana, though they have less of an affinity for demonic as a result.”

“Terrestrial demon?” Seyari sounded genuinely confused.

“A topic few people know about. I am, you could say, uniquely qualified to talk about such cases. Your symbol, or a variation of, also appears with all examples of greater terrestrial demons I have found, though not all instances of your symbol are from such beings.” Isidore paused a moment to look at my downcast expression. “If this topic is distressing for you, we do not have to continue.”

I took a deep breath and met his hard brown eyes. “No, I’m fine. I think you’ve explained most of my origin, but I have a few more personal questions if that is okay.”

Isidore’s eyes twinkled. “Okay!? That’s wonderful. Cases such as yours do not show up often and I would very much like to know more about the nature of your formation and continued existence.”

Isidore really tried his best to rein in the creepy energy he was giving off. He wasn’t succeeding in the slightest, but the effort was appreciated.

I took another deep breath to keep my voice steady. “Okay, well, I can remember the void—”

“YOU CAN REMEMBER THE VOID!?” Isidore shouted and leapt up from his seat. With a cough he sat back down and adjusted his glasses. “My apologies for interrupting. Would you give me a moment to fetch a quill and paper? I will refrain from naming you directly in my notes, of course.”

I jumped from Isidore’s sudden outburst and had to take a moment to calm myself. All the while he stared at me intently from behind the lenses of his large glasses. “Uh, that’s okay.” I squeezed Seyari’s hand.

She stopped the death glare she’d fixed Isidore with when he jumped up. We let the older man leave to the other room for a moment to fetch his things. Seyari and I shared a look and I tried to let her know I was okay with a smile.

Isidore returned shortly with a quill and paper and I recounted as best I could the events of my formation. I started with stating who had died, though I did not use their real names. From the events of my death itself through a vague description of the memories, I spoke of what I felt and did not feel. I ended with the volcanic eruption and my symbol’s odd glow.

After I finished, Isidore sat quietly for a long while, scribbling away. For my part, I got up and raided the fruit bowl and cakes in the other room. I left one each for the others. Seyari looked at me when I returned with multiple plates full of produce and sweets.

“What? I’m at least twice your weight, cut me some slack.” I gave her a look.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’m sorry you had to go through all that.” She snatched a cake off one of my plates.

I took a piece of fruit. “Thanks. I think you had it worse though, my pain was limited to a very short time. I really didn’t feel five years passing in the void.”

“Maybe. At least on the surface.” Seyari met my eyes.

“Oh.” I smiled at her. “Thanks.”

We sat in relative silence a few minutes more, enjoying the coziness of the home we found ourselves in. Isidore’s scribbling took on an almost droning quality.

“Zarenna?” Isidore spoke up at long last. “I have some theories if you want me to tell you them. Nothing concrete, of course.”

“Please do.”

“You may not like what I have concluded.” Isidore looked pointedly at me.

My breath hitched. I pondered for a moment. Abby would want to know, however, so I decided I should too. I gestured for Isidore to continue.

The former researcher cleared his throat. “Well, I believe that your soul from before you became a demon is essentially whole. The cult that killed you was likely attempting some sort of Lost Era ritual and your amulet interacted with it in some way. The anger you carried at the time of your death was likely just enough to catalyze whatever caused your soul to become a demon of wrath. Additionally, a second demon may have been formed from what you saw get pulled out of the void.”

I had to take a while to process what Isidore said. It made sense, mostly. But he didn’t answer the question burning away at me.

“What about my parents and Abby?” I asked cautiously.

Isidore took on an even more serious look. “I believe, unless they had reason for their souls to fracture fully, your parents and most all the others would have moved on to the next life. Your friend Abby, however, was different. I do not know how, but I believe she gave her soul somehow to ensure your continued existence. It is likely the ritual you stumbled into was performed incorrectly. I do not know what the other outcome would have been. If this is true, a large part of your amalgam soul is her, but in a diffuse form.”

“I—” My words died in my throat.

“I will prepare your room for tonight and give you some time.” Isidore set his notes aside and moved quickly out of the room.

I managed until Isidore left the room, but then I couldn’t hold the tears in. I didn’t know that I wanted to.

I cried for Abby. Big ugly tears. Seyari held me all the while, eventually moving to cram into the same chair as me, across my lap. I knew Abby was dead, but I had always hoped there was something after for her. The Church taught of a paradise after death, but warned that it was not guaranteed. I thought for sure she’d made it there. Even after all this time, I still hadn’t let go of that idea.

What Isidore told me was just a theory. That didn’t matter. All his theory did was force me to face what I already knew. What I knew since she said her final words.

Abby was gone.

“She’s with you, you know.” Seyari looked up at me with a faint smile and reddened eyes.

Had I said that out loud?

“But she deserved so much more.” The first word came out hoarse, but my voice cleared by the last word. Sometimes I wished I could turn my regeneration off.

“She wanted this, didn’t she?” Seyari asked.

“I—she did, but…”

Seyari said nothing.

“She gave so much. I didn’t deserve it.” I spoke in a defeated tone.

Would I have been able to do the same for her? I wanted to think I would, but I wasn’t sure.

“She thought you did though.” Seyari spoke quietly, but her voice was firm.

I looked down at Seyari. She looked so small in the moment.

She continued, “I think you should respect that. Like she respected you. Abby was a good friend, Zarenna…and I think you know that.”

My tears started right back up. This time, I felt different. I wanted to prove Abby right. I wanted to prove I had what she had seen in me.

By the time I pulled myself together, I heard hushed voices across the hall in the kitchen. Lilly must have gotten back while I was mourning. Outside, the sun was setting. Rays of purple and red streaked across the room.

I realized I had a few more questions for Isidore. I hoped he wouldn’t mind. I got up shakily and Seyari clung to me for a moment before letting herself down.

In the kitchen, Lilly was starting to work on dinner and Isidore had half the kitchen table covered in notes.

Lilly saw us and bounced over. “Are you alright, dear?” She looked genuinely concerned.

“I will be,” I replied.

That got a big smile. “Great! Think you can help with dinner? I want to borrow your claws as a peeler.”

I nodded my head and took a position beside her peeling some sort of purple tuber. Seyari sat at the table. I could hear conversation with Isidore, but I wasn’t up for trying to pay attention.

“Hey Lilly?” I asked the Sovereign of Lust.

“Yes, Renna?” She replied brightly. “Can I call you Renna?”

I thought back to what I’d told Seyari about my name. Truthfully, I liked Renna. I just felt like it was a fake and that I was obligated to use my full name since Abby gave it to me. She’d never liked her full name. I liked mine, but that wasn’t a reason not to let a nickname be.

“You’ve stopped peeling. Is everything alright?” The shorter demon asked me.

“I, uh, yeah. You can call me Renna,” I replied sheepishly.

“Okay, Renna! Anyway, what did you want to ask me?” Lilly finished peeling a tuber and moved to the next one.

I thought about the shape my body had taken as a demon. “What determines a demon’s body shape?”

“Hmm. I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s the shape of the soul. For a greater demon, that’s usually pretty clear, but a lot of lesser demons are hideous chimeras.”

“Could one soul influence another?”

Now it was Lilly’s turn to stop and think. “Yeah, but you’d need two major fragments competing with each other and that’s super rare.”

“What would that be like?”

“Hmm. Well, one will usually end up being dominant and if that’s stable, will take over. But your base form could have features from two ideals.”

I looked down at myself. I felt how I wanted to feel. I never felt influence from Abby’s soul outside of a few times when I was certain she had calmed my rage. The green glow had reminded me of her eyes.

Gods, is my stability erasing the last vestiges of her existence?

“In my case, it means I have a penis!” Lilly said happily.

What.

“You looked like your mind was going someplace you didn’t want it to. Thought I’d shock you out of it.” Lilly smiled up at me and giggled. “I know a lot about having two competing fragments. I don’t want to talk about it, but I can tell you right now that you’d damn well know if that was the case.”

“Thanks, Lilly.” I was certain I sounded more relieved than I felt.

“No problem!” Lilly winked. “You want to start peeling another one? There’s not much left of what you’re holding.”

I looked down. I’d absentmindedly peeled the root into one long coil.

“Sorry!” I set the mess down and took another one.

Lilly waved her hand. “Oh, it’s fine! We’ll think of somewhere to use it.”

***

Dinner was quite nice in the end. Lillith had managed to make the local produce remind me of home back in Edath. We’d be heading south again soon and hopefully I’d be able to find Tania and get the rest of the answers I was owed from Finley. I’d gut him like a fish when I was done with him. The thought brought a pulse of cold anger, but I felt no remorse over the idea.

After dinner, Lilly and Isidore invited us to stay the night. They also offered a few more days if we needed the rest. We agreed to at least stay the next day. I wanted another bath.

Exhausted, Seyari and I headed to our room. Even if my body wasn’t very tired, my mind was beat and I needed to sleep. Inside our room was a single modest-sized and very plush-looking double bed.

An armoire, a desk with a mirror, and a bookshelf stuffed to the brim completed the look. A large window had dark curtains already drawn over it. Our packs had been set in one corner.

Carefully as I could, I slipped out of my dress but kept my lower undergarments on. I collapsed into the bed first and wriggled my way under the covers. My feet hung far off the end, so I curled onto one side and pulled them up. I had enough presence of mind to dull my claws and horns. The sheets felt nice and I’d hate to shred them in my sleep. Already, I was enjoying the perks of my more flexible glamour.

Moments later, Seyari pulled the covers aside and joined me, snuggling backwards up to my chest. I put my arms around her, flipped my tail over both of us, and was asleep in no time.