It was a slow night at the Garden tavern—one of the capital’s main haunts for those looking for work in Nyarlothep. Skye had occupied a bench directly across the enormous wooden board that catgirls from all corners of the island slapped the announcements of their qualms and woes, promising various amounts of Bells depending on the task. Skye preferred the Experience opportunities for the ones who needed their homes saved or families protected, but a few extra Bells wouldn’t hurt either. But tonight? The board was stark empty.

Peace in Nyarlothep? I don’t think so. Skye sipped from her ale, watching the few other patrons move about the tavern and willing them to put their cry for help on the board. C’mon. I’ll save your pet from a tree. Anything but this. Even the two waitresses were bored, resting their elbows on the counter while sharing idle chatter and political rumors.

Skye tapped the pouch of Bells in her [Cat Pack] and frowned. Only enough for one more drink if she wanted three full meals the next day. Getting to Nyarlothep from San wasn’t cheap, and days like this would send her home much sooner than she wanted. She’d dragged her own tail up to [Void Walker], and this was the thanks she got for it.

Damnit, Cailu. Why’d you have to be such a prick?

“Skye.” A low voice whispered her name, barely above a breath. She started in her seat and peered around. The barmaids hadn’t moved, still deep in their conversation about the second princess. One harried catgirl sat in the opposite corner, deep in her cups and murmuring to herself.

The hell? Skye sighed and relaxed in her seat. It couldn’t have been the ale; the Garden watered their drinks down as much as they did the copious amounts of plants. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so on edge, though, and stress did crazy things to people.

“Skye.” The whisper again. Closer this time. A cool breeze brushed Skye’s dark bangs away from her face as a petite catgirl with short brown hair touched by silver shuffled past her. A tall staff with multiple rings chimed pleasantly above her head, and she wore a black dress bound tightly by crosses of black twine at the small of her back. Tucked beneath one arm was a dark, leather-bound tome that looked ancient—hairline cracks shattered from its edges, framed by specks of tawny brown. And Skye would have bet her life that what she heard next came from the book. “Skye. Come.”

An eerie chill descended her spine as she tossed back the rest of her ale. It seemed like a bad omen to ignore a talking book. At the very least, it could offer a modicum of entertainment to an otherwise dreary evening.

“Yeah, alright,” Skye murmured to herself. Hefting herself to her feet, she waved down one of the idle barmaids and wiggled her empty cup. “Another one, please?”

“Sure thing, love. Just a sec,” the pink-haired catgirl nodded before hastily disappearing behind the bar.

Skye followed the brunette until she chose a table. When she turned to face Skye, she hiccupped a breath in surprise, her eyes widening.

“Nice eyes,” Skye said, noting the girl’s green and gold heterochromia.

“Thanks,” she replied softly, shifting the weight of her feet and the book beneath her arm. “Can I help you?”

How do I even start this? Skye frowned. Honesty was probably the best policy here. “Your, er, book called my name.”

She blinked, and her brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, that sounded about as insane out loud as it did in my head.” Skye ran a hand through her hair, then crossed her arms. “Let me try again. I’m Skye.”

“Um, Yomi.” She carefully slid into the booth and gestured with her free hand for Skye to sit in the chair across from her. “You’re not…drunk, are you?”

“If only,” Skye chuckled. “No. Sober as a kitten. This would be an easier conversation if I weren’t.”

“Here you are, sweet.” Pink-hair had returned, setting a full tankard on the tabletop and swiping the empty one away. “And for you?”

“Oh, wine. Thank you,” Yomi replied. She waited for the waitress to disappear, then placed the book on the table. Tracing the embossed letters on its cover with the tip of her finger, she continued, “It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s…well…”

“Let me see it?” Skye curled her fingers into her palm, signaling for Yomi to pass it across.

Yomi hesitated, her gaze flickering from the cover to Skye’s face. At last, she nodded and slid the tome across the table.

Demonology. The chill beneath Skye’s skin intensified, raising the hairs on the backs of her forearms. She’d heard of the [Demonologist] Class in passing during her [Void Walker] training. In addition to [Void Walker], [Demonologist] was one of the few Classes that rejected Saoirse’s light-giving magics in favor of darker, chaotic powers.

“You’re a [Demonologist]?” Skye asked quietly. Even though it wasn’t a forbidden profession, theirs were paths that most catgirls shied away from. The ones whispered behind cupped hands and never mentioned in polite company.

“Not yet,” Yomi said, licking her lips. “But I… I struck a pact with a demon already.”

Well, this was interesting. “Isn’t that outside what a [Dark Priest] can do?”

Yomi nodded. “Yes.”

“How—” Skye noticed the waitress approaching and quickly swapped subjects. “—are your Quests treating you?”

“Fine.” Yomi thanked the waitress and took a sip of wine. Once they were alone to speak again, she gestured to Skye’s leg armor. “Aren’t you a [Crusader]?”

“[Void Walker],” Skye corrected.

“I see.” She took another sip of wine and leaned forward, tapping the book’s cover methodically. “You may have a connection with one of them.”

Skye’s heart sped. With a demon? “What do you mean?”

“Catgirls like you and I…we draw from a different source than [Priest]s and [Paladin]s. And unlike Saoirse, that source has a face and an independent will.”

Was it just her, or did the book feel warmer beneath her palm than it did a few seconds ago? Skye returned it, but a stirring mixture of excitement and fear swirled in the pit of her stomach. “Can I meet it?”

Yomi accepted the book and set it on the bench beside her, out of sight from the barmaids and any curious passersby. A pink hue bloomed on her cheeks, and her gaze searched the table. “We can try. But, Skye, they may want more than you’re willing to give.”

Goosebumps pricked the back of Skye’s neck. What was Yomi insinuating? And there was still the matter of using her Skill outside her Class. “How did you strike a pact as a [Dark Priest]?”

“What we use in magic, they desire in flesh,” Yomi replied quietly, slowly rotating the stem of her wine glass while watching the red tonic draw thin lines down its sides. “Such a relationship mutually strengthens our powers.”

Skye had never seen a demon before. Not in battle or otherwise. Did they feed on the flesh of catgirls? Wound them? If either were the case, how was Yomi still standing in one whole piece?

While gruesome images filled her head, Yomi’s blush deepened, and she took another drink of wine. She looked toward the occupied barmaids and twisted to face the wall. Her reply was barely audible. “It’s…certainly different than laying with a man or a catgirl.”

The flood of pictures in Skye’s head came to an abrupt halt. Laying? She…she couldn’t have… But the look on Yomi’s face and her curled fingers around the book said otherwise.

Skye emptied her tankard.

“You said it called your name?” Yomi asked carefully.

Skye nodded, wiping the foam away from her lips.

Yomi traced an invisible shape across the table—five points and a circle. “If you want, we can evoke them. Together.”

Why? Skye wanted to ask. However, she yearned to see what lay on the other side of her magic, and the thought of strengthening herself as a fighter was too much to pass up. She set her mug on the table and watched the droplets of condensation drip down the sides. “Yeah. Alright. Why not?”

Yomi nodded. She finished her wine and heaped a stack of Bells on the table. “This should cover your drinks.”

“Yomi, I can pay—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Moving to the bar, she motioned for the pink-haired girl. “Can I get the rest of that bottle?”

“Sure thing, sugar.” The barmaid lifted the open bottle of wine over the counter and handed it to Yomi. “That’ll be ten Bells.”

“I left it on the table. Thank you.” Yomi pointed toward the door with her jingling staff. “After you.”

The trek from the Garden to Yomi’s house was unnervingly quiet. There were so many questions that Skye wanted to answer. Had it been…difficult? Painful? What did Yomi’s demon look like? Yet, whenever she opened her mouth to ask, Skye wondered if she were better off not knowing and closed it again.

“I’m right here,” Yomi said, opening the front door for Skye.

Skye nodded and squared her shoulders. Hundreds of Encroachers she’d fought and at least a dozen Defiled under her belt, and this scared her more than any one of them. Stepping through the threshold, she smelled the faint tinges of blood and incense. When Yomi lit the candles in the common room, Skye was greeted with a giant circle painted on the floor, the points of a pentagram spearing its edges. Half-melted candles stood at each point, and a small bowl with dried, crusty flecks rested at its center.

“Wait here,” Yomi instructed, disappearing into the kitchen.

The more Skye stared at the magic circle, the quicker her blood pulsed through her veins. As if every inch of her resonated with the dark powers willed into the spell. Apprehension held her rooted in place, but the yearning in her chest to explore it further was almost too much to bear. The vivid red hue of its lines seemed to throb with her heartbeat, and the bowl cried out for her blood. If she could give it just a little bit…

“Skye?” Yomi called, suddenly beside her.

Skye shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and looked down at Yomi. “Sorry.”

Yomi handed her a goblet. “Hmm. The book really did call to you, didn’t it?” She gestured to the circle, then moved its center. After setting the book in the middle, she picked up the bowl. “This Magic sings to you as it does to me.”

Skye watched as Yomi crushed a handful of dried ingredients in the bowl, unsure how to reply. Instead, she changed the subject, tilting the glass toward Yomi. “What do I do with this?”

“Drink it all. The faster, the better,” Yomi instructed. “It’ll increase your [Magic] Stat and, well, it’ll help.”

Help with what? But Skye wasn’t about to look like a coward in front of this girl. She downed the bitter-tasting liquid in four gulps. It burned her tongue, throat, and chest as it dribbled into her stomach. She swallowed a cough and blinked away tears threatening the corners of her eyes. Tougher shit than the Garden, that’s for sure.

Yomi stood and marched to Skye’s side, the bowl in one hand and a shining knife in the other. “We’ll need both of our essence—our blood.”

Skye studied the myriad scars on her left arm and chuckled. “One more for the road.”

Yomi winced. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” She held her arm straight out, offering its entire length to Yomi. “Wherever you’d like.”

With a quick nod, Yomi carved a finger-length wound near the inside of Skye’s elbow, collecting the resulting flow while murmuring a string of unfamiliar words beneath her breath.

“Can you hold this?” she asked, handing the bowl to Skye when the blood slowed.

“Sure,” Skye replied, a little dizzy, but accepted the bowl. She’d dealt with far worse blood loss in the past, so why was the room spinning?

Yomi mirrored the slice on her own arm, murmuring the same string of words as the blood splashed into the mixture. She took the bowl back and moved into the pentagram, placing the container on top of the book in the center of the circle before taking her place beside Skye.

“Repeat after me. With my voice, I call you. With my life, I beseech you,” Yomi said.

“With my voice, I call you. With my life, I beseech you,” Skye imitated. The pulsing beneath her skin grew stronger, and the candles flickered to life. The magic circle glowed in a striking crimson while tiny bubbles simmered to the surface of the bowl’s contents.

“I am Yomi of Nyarlea. [Dark Priest] and servant to your will.”

“I am Skye of Nyarlea. [Void Walker] and servant to your will.”

“I summon—” Before Yomi could finish, a sharp crack echoed against the walls of the common room. She tumbled backward, cushioning the fall with the palms of her hands. The candles sputtered out, but the magic circle retained its unsettling glow.

Skye braced herself in her fighting stance, instinctively summoning her two-handed sword in preparation for combat.

“Skye.” The voice returned, its depths and intentions unfathomable. “Come.”

“Skye! Run!” Yomi called.

But there was nowhere to run.

The demon laughed. Time seemed to slow, and Skye witnessed what followed in short, sporadic images between the purple blinks of the magic circle. A mass of undulating teeth and wiry appendages appearing in the center of the circle; the beast wrapping its tendrils around her waist and legs; Yomi snatched from the floor and joining her in the chaos of slick limbs; the last flickers of the magic pentagram drawn on Yomi’s floor before everything went dark.

Skye tried to scream, but the breath was pulled from her lungs. She was suddenly hurling toward…something. Her hair whipped about her face and shoulders, and the small metallic decorations she favored stung her skin. The hold around her was secure and unmoving, dragging her in an unknown direction.

And just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Where am I? Skye blinked furiously, hoping to clear the wind’s sting from her eyes.

“Mantus? What have you brought?” A voice rasped in the darkness.

“Belial’s plaything,” Mantus, the demon who’d called Skye’s name, replied. “And mine.”

Skye’s vision cleared in the dim lighting, and what she witnessed was beyond her wildest imagination. Three enormous, monstrous beasts, larger than any Encroacher she’d ever encountered, communed in a room whose very walls seemed to breathe. Defiled? No, Yomi’s summoning had worked, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Demons.

“For all of us?” another asked.

“Yes, Typon,” Mantus hummed. “For all of us.”

Mantus, the one with Skye and Yomi wrapped in his appendages, was a blue, scaled demon standing on six legs. Leathery spikes poked from his back while glimmering white teeth as long as Skye was tall protruded from below. The tendrils that held fast to Yomi and Skye disappeared behind his fangs and into his center cavity, where a quivering tongue resided. When he spoke, the jaw closed and met in the center in a long, vertical opening.

“Summon Belial! Immediately!” Yomi cried from beside her. “This goes against the terms of our pact!”

A high-pitched cackle escaped the unnamed’s throat. “You are one to speak of terms, hell-bound girl.” He shared the basic anatomy of a man, but bones protruded from his forehead like an armored crown, and the angles of his face were impossibly sharp. His eyes glimmered red, and bat-like wings bulged from his back.

“Do not let her invoke Belial’s presence, Nijal. Even he would put an end to our pleasure.” Typon was a bipedal monstrosity with four arms and a face masked by a horned, blanched skull. Collections of fur swarmed his throat and wrists, and a thick tail whipped behind him as he walked. He moved to Yomi’s side and forced two thick fingers inside her mouth, using one of his arms to pull on her hair. “Let’s see what’s so special about her.”

Yomi whimpered, her tongue weakly stroking the lengths of his digits. Skye writhed against Mantus’ binds, kicking and flailing her arms as she focused all her mental strength on her Skills.

“[Bind]!” Skye screamed, willing the chains to grasp Mantus and distract him—if only for a moment—while she reclaimed her sword.

The three demons stared at her expectantly, then burst into ear-splitting laughter when nothing happened.

“Oh, sweet girl, your magics will not work here,” Mantus crooned from the otherworldly split of his jaw. “You are not in your world. You’re in mine.”

They may want more than you’re willing to give, Yomi’s words echoed in Skye’s ears, and the first tinges of fear crept into her mind.

“Let us take her,” Typon said as Nijal dragged a sharp nail down the strings of Yomi’s dress. “You go…meet your new pact-mate.”

Mantus chuckled—a grating, wheezing noise—and released Yomi, using the free appendages instead to unhinge the clasps of Skye’s armor. “What are you so afraid of, Skye?”

“You,” Skye answered steadily. She couldn’t find his eyes or an appropriate place to look. There were so many glistening, beady stones running down the sides of its body. Those couldn’t all be eyes, could they?

“It’s my power you call upon and use.”

“You’re why I have Magic?”

“Yes. My energy allows you to feel drunk on your Skills in your world.” Mantus freed her leg armor and tossed it to the side. “And now you’re refusing to reciprocate?”

“I…I—” Skye stammered.

“Ngh!” Yomi squealed, and Skye’s attention snapped to the side.

Nijal held Yomi’s wrists above her head. She’d been stripped of her clothing, revealing an intricate rune-inscribed tattoo around her navel. Two of Typon’s arms suspended her back in the air while one hand remained in her mouth and the other had vanished between her legs. Yomi gasped around his fingers, her back arched in his arms.

“Mantus—” Skye pleaded.

“You believe she isn’t enjoying herself?” Mantus chuckled, then shifted Skye’s arms above her head and tore her corset away. “You do not know Yomi.”

“I don’t have any energy to give you,” Skye reasoned. If what worked in their world didn’t work here, then there was little she could give him.

“You can give me much, Skye,” Mantus replied. Two more tendrils slid up the legs of her pants at the ankle and tensed at the seam until the stitching gave way. They ripped beneath the pressure with a loud tear, and he tossed them aside.

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?” Skye whispered.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Saliva dribbled down Mantus’ sharp teeth. “You’re no use to me dead.”

One of the tendrils that had torn her pants hovered above her face, the end flowering into dripping petals that spiraled into a pitch-black tunnel.

“Mantus—ah!” The tendril latched around the nipple of her right breast, toying and suckling the sensitive bud with desperation.

“Give in, Skye,” Mantus urged. “You have walked this path longer than you realize.”

“I-I don’t—” Skye began when a second tendril claimed her left breast. “Mm-Mant—” she stammered. Her thighs parted, and another slick tentacle slid between her folds in search of her clit. “Nn—ngh!”

“Let me in,” Mantus crooned.

It was like a hundred tiny fingers and warm tongues against her chest and toying between her legs. The sensation was unlike ever she’d ever experienced before. She wrenched her wrists and kicked her legs against Mantus’ hold to no effect. Furious grunts melted into groans with his patient, deliberate machinations, and goosebumps prickled along her skin. Her body and mind warred against one another—never had she felt so conflicted in her life. How could she possibly want to give in to this…this monster?

It’ll help. Had Yomi’s drink…? Yomi…? Skye allowed her head to roll back.

“Fuck. I can’t take it anymore.” Typon yanked his glistening hand from Yomi’s body, freeing his erect cock from behind the loincloth.

Yomi moaned, arching her hips and spreading her thighs wider. Typon entered her mercilessly, and she squealed against his fingers.

Something from the limb between her legs plied at Skye’s opening. She gasped.

Mantus tilted Skye’s head up to face his gaping maw. “Let me take what is owed.”

Skye’s thighs trembled, and her skin burned. She barely recognized the word as it left her mouth. “A-alright.”

“Good. Trust me.” Mantus laid her on the pulsing floor, released her arms and legs, then lowered his giant head around her.

Skye put her arms to her sides and hissed in breath but remained still as his tentacles continued to caress and tease her skin.

Mantus’ teeth sank into the ground beneath them, missing her neck and shoulders by inches, but the top of his mouth lay flat against her body. As he released the limbs from her breasts and clit, the sensation she’d experienced from the ends of the tendrils was compounded a hundred-fold. Every inch of the roof of his mouth was covered in the same tiny appendages that licked and tasted her skin.

“Shit!” Skye breathed. Her back arched without consent into the wave of delicious nuzzles and strokes that overcame her.

“Mmm,” Mantus hummed. A stiff, thick appendage poked between her thighs, searching for its destination amidst the sea of their forms.

Skye groaned and shivered—it was so much thicker than the tendrils that had restrained her. Could her body even take something like that? She didn’t have time to wonder before the head breached her opening. She cried out, unable to squirm or writhe beneath Mantus’ mouth. It continued to thrust, exploring her depths inch by inch.

“Mantus said they were for all of us, Typon. Turn her around,” Najir growled, tearing Yomi away from him like a toy. Her eyes lulled in the back of her head, and a delirious smile tainted her lips. Najir sheathed her with ease, wrapping her pale legs around his back.

“Cockblocking asshole!” Typon snapped, spreading Yomi’s backside wide and shoving himself inside.

Yomi cried out in delight.

Mantus exhaled, his breath searing and damp against Skye’s entire body. A second large appendage danced against the cheeks of her backside.

“W-Wait, I— I—!” Skye didn’t know what to say. If she could say anything.

It didn’t matter.

He penetrated her second opening with ease, and groans of pleasure tore from her throat. She’d never felt so full, the two appendages warring against one another inside of her, plunging further than she’d ever thought possible. Her legs gradually drifted further apart, and she relished the tiny tongues dancing along her skin, nipples, tail, and clit. Had anything ever felt so good?

Another appendage appeared, parting her lips and burying itself in the depths of her throat. She closed her eyes and teased it with her tongue, suckling at it in hopes of granting even a fraction of the pleasure Mantus was gifting her.

“I can’t hold it!” Najir groaned, thrusting hard inside of Yomi while Typon used the momentum to grind her against his hips.

“Seriously? You fucking new at this?” Typon chastised as Najir moaned with his climax.

“Skye,” Mantus whispered, plying against the tension building between her legs. “Come.”

It was so much. Too much. Every tickle and stroke dragged her over the edge, and she gasped against the tentacle in her mouth. The three appendages inside her plunged deeper, plowing her with desperate, carnal need. They massaged every point of tension that dragged her climax longer. Then, just when she’d thought she was satiated, Mantus would push her into a second orgasm. Then a third. A burst of thick, white-hot fluid shot from the appendage into her mouth, trickling down her throat. Two more releases between her legs soon followed. Skye gasped and squealed, drinking what she could as the remainder trickled down her face.

“I can go again,” Najir grumbled, readjusting Yomi so that her mouth enveloped the head of his shaft. She took it without complaint, setting to work with affectionate whimpers. He brushed the hair from her face and shook his head. “Belial was right. Something’s wrong with this girl.”

“Stop moving her around and fuck her, jackass,” Typon barked, snatching her waist and plunging his cock back inside her.

Mantus lifted his maw, pulling the tendril away from her mouth while the smaller appendages descended on Skye’s limbs. They wrapped tightly around her wrists and ankles before flipping her onto her stomach, her hips high in the air. Skye’s cheek kissed the ground, and her sweat-soaked hair was splayed around her head. More of the demon’s pleasure dribbled from the corner of her mouth, and she licked the bittersweet liquid before it could fall to the ground. She felt like her skin had turned to sculpting clay for the demon to mold and shape as he pleased.

Just don’t stop doing as you please.

The tendrils held her limbs in place as his appendages thrust in and out of her with renewed fervor. Her high-pitched cries joined Yomi’s, her skin begging for more. A fourth orgasm. Then a fifth. She started to lose count, the pulsing of her body sending her into a constant ecstasy without descent.

Mantus’ tentacles tightened, then released two more bursts of seed inside her. He groaned, then turned her to her back once more, his advances inside of her slowing to massage the greatest points of her pleasure.

“Oh, yes. You are worthy of my powers indeed,” Mantus said, breathless. “It will be difficult to release you.”

“Then don’t,” Skye moaned, her words sliding into another series of desperate, blissful cries.

Mantus laughed, then drew himself completely free of her. “But I must. It is how we live.” With one smaller tendril, he swept its edges in a circle around Skye’s navel. “We are connected, Skye. You are mine, and I am yours.”

A circular tattoo similar to Yomi’s appeared with a different set of runic symbols.

“I fear our time has come to a close,” Mantus said, crawling backward from her.

“W…Why?” Skye felt strange asking. But when would she see him again? If ever?

“Her mouth feels amazing!” Najir cried. “Shit, I’m on the edge again!”

“How dare you?” a fourth, booming voice joined the choir.

“…Ah, fuck,” Typon murmured, jumping away from Yomi.

A shadowy figure appeared, towering behind Najir and Typon. His silhouette was a combination of man and animal; a powerful chest and arms, a ram’s head, and cloven feet. A tail not too far removed from a catgirl’s whipped back and forth behind him, and circular horns framed his long ears.

“B-Belial! When did you get here?” Najir stammered, pulling Yomi away from himself.

She crumpled to the floor, and Belial gathered her in his arms. She clutched at the cluster of fur on his chest and nuzzled her face against his shoulder.

“Belial,” she murmured, her [Energy] seemingly sapped.

Skye gathered her thoughts and the last of her [Energy], shuffling to her knees and collecting her clothing into her arms.

“My name was invoked three times, you fool.” Belial’s fist connected with Najir’s cheek, sending him flying backward. “You would dare to touch my pact-mate?”

“We were just having some fun! No harm intended,” Typon explained. “Mantus was connecting with his newest pact, and Yomi just happened to be there, so—”

Another fist collided with Typon’s abdomen. Even with as large as the four-armed demon was, he didn’t stand a chance against Belial.

“You brought her here?” Belial turned his anger to Mantus. “Instead of going to their world?”

“It was an accident that Yomi was transported with Skye,” Mantus explained. “I wasn’t given much time to pull her in.”

Belial glanced at the sleeping Yomi in his arms, then turned his furious eyes to the half-conscious Skye. “Is this true?”

Skye looked at Mantus, his façade no longer as terrifying as when she’d first arrived. She turned back to Belial and nodded. “It’s true. I called for Mantus without any luck, so I asked for Yomi’s help.” Why are you protecting him? “She wasn’t supposed to be here.”

Belial growled at Najir, then Typon. “Hell will not protect you from the punishment that awaits.”

“Belial, please, it’s just a misunderstanding—” Najir began.

Belial roared, then vanished with Yomi in his arms.

“And I still didn’t get to come. You’re a fucking idiot. You know that?” Typon snapped. “And thanks for the fucking help, Mantus.”

Mantus laughed and reached one thin tendril to Skye, touching her shoulder. “Call my name should you need me,” he said. “Perhaps I will do the same.”

Skye blinked, and the three demons vanished from sight. The pulsating hellscape was replaced with Yomi’s four walls and her pentagram-covered floor. She stood at the circle’s edge, staring at a confused Yomi.

“Skye? Did you hear me?” Yomi asked, holding the bowl and the silver knife. “I need your arm.”

Skye’s chin snapped one way, then the other. The room was just as it had been before they’d vanished. They were both clothed and no worse for wear. “What the hell?”

“Are you alright?” Yomi asked, letting her arms rest at her sides. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Skye grabbed at the hem of her top and tore it upward. The tattoo around her navel shimmered in the candlelight, Mantus’ runes clear as day.

“Where…did you get that?” Yomi asked.

Skye struggled for the right words to say, finding nothing. “I-I need to go home.”

Yomi set her tools aside and crossed her arms. “Did something happen?”

“No. It’s fine. Thanks, Yomi.”

As Skye left Yomi’s house, she swore Belial’s silhouette caught the corner of her eye, standing just behind the petite girl with two-colored eyes.

Skye, Mantus’ voice whispered from a dozen worlds away. Come.