There was one universal truth when it came to demons.

  They couldn’t take something that wasn’t freely given, which was ironically what made Deals with the bastards so tantalizing for fools who didn’t read the fine print. Rare was a deal that favoured the mortal, but the denizens of the hells had things on offer that couldn't be found through worldly trade.

  Knowledge. Life. Power.

  These were the least of what could be given, for the least creative of people, but already it was more than enough for most. Magic society didn’t like to admit it, but most of their knowledge could be traced back to a demon. The current Auriel Caesar was known in the game as something of a merchant to demon kind, and was rumoured to be insane. You never met him in the game, but there were allusions to his sanity.

  It made me wonder if orcs were secretly demons, considering they apparently followed the same rules. An interesting train of thought, and not unconsidered, but unlikely nonetheless. Demons needed mortal forms to walk the mortal plane, and they couldn't create their own. Simple rules, but absolute ones.

  It was what made witch contracts so volatile, bond your soul with a demon too powerful, and you’d lose all sense of agency, a puppet at their mercy. But a witch contract could only be done if the contractee was utterly willing to submit their soul to a demon, with the full understanding of what that Means.

  I didn’t know, until I went to sign one, then I Knew.

  What could push a child to that extreme? Where they Know and chose to take that risk anyway? For me it was the end of the world. For others in the game it was a random assortment of horrendous grievances needing restitution, a crippling sense of megalomania…or, desperation.

  Alvir stared at the boy I brought with an empty expression, the first time in the months I’d known him to look completely emotionless. “Seph made a thrall,” Alvir said, staring at the boy unblinking. “That stupid…” a sigh “I knew there was something wrong with her son, but I assumed it was because she’s a horrible mother. I guess I wasn’t wrong.”

  “She did this to her son?” I hissed.

  Alvir gave me a sympathetic look. “It’s the only person she could’ve done it to, the world wouldn’t recognize any superficial authority she might’ve had over anyone else. It needed to come from blood and…before they developed their own autonomy."

  “Why?” I said, doing my best to repress the dawning horror. “What’s the point of doing this?”

  Alvir shrugged. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell us Rudy? Should I call you Rudy?”

  The thing tilted the boy's head, its eyes wide and calculating. “Rudy is fine,” it said. “But what reason do I have to tell you? What do you have to offer?”

  “Your life?” Alvir said, though he sounded…tired.

  The not-boy shook their head. “That Deal was already made, and isn’t of equal Value.”

  The matter-of-factness with which they implied the boy’s worth hurt me in a way that was almost physical. But what was the worth of a life dominated by something else? Apparently not enough for some simple information.

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  Alvir seemed to have expected that response and just nodded.

  Then his hand morphed into a thing of fur and claw and-

  He tore out the not-boy’s throat.

  Rudy fell to the floor, choking on his own blood. It wasn’t what death should’ve looked like. There was no desperation, no confusion, no anger or fear. Just a dead-eyed stare at the man who did it. I watched as life left its eyes, then looked back to Alvir.

  “You couldn’t have saved him?” I asked.

  The look he gave me was a guarded thing. “You already know the answer to that.”

  I nodded, then looked down at the body.

  The blue of his eyes may have been dull before, but now they were just empty. Blood pooled on the floorboards of Alvir’s workshop, matting the boy's hair and reaching as far as my sandals. His clothes were nice, for a peasant. A cotton shirt and pants. Not pristine, but taken care of to be sure. What did a demon care for their appearance?

  The cotton absorbed blood about as well as I’d expect.

  “What about Seph?” I asked, not turning my gaze from the body.

  I heard the creaking of wood, probably sitting down on his chair. “The coven wouldn’t care for her continued…existence,” He said. “They won’t mind if she just so happens to disappear.”

  I nodded. “And the vigils?”

  “I have my connections,” he grunted.

  So, the coven had some sort of grasp over local authority. Interesting, and worth examining another time. For now I was busy memorizing the face of a boy who wasn’t really a boy, because that future was stolen. Stolen by a witch.

  “Why did she send him after me?” I said. “It doesn’t make sense, she…all she did was fuck herself over.”

  More creaking of wood. “Seph’s an idiot. A genuine idiot if she made a thrall. Most likely she didn’t think you’d recognize him with all that elven crap, considering elves can’t pick out witches.”

  “So the worst that’d happen is I beat her son to a pulp?” I said.

  “That wasn’t her son,” Alvir growled.

  I nodded again, even though it was a polite fiction for the man. We both know the boy’s soul was still in there, somewhere. Bonded to a thing so far beyond him, stuck watching as life moved without his input. What would a life like that look like? It was a mercy to kill him, that I knew for certain.

  The demon in my own soul snorted, and I did nothing.

  I had authority over the thing, I shouldn’t use it for petty punishments. No matter how much my anger flared. Maybe that was what it wanted? Maybe that was why it acted as it did, so I could waste what power I had over the imp. It would make sense. Perfect sense.

  Alvir sighed, getting up from his seat and walking over to where I stood.

  He puts a hand on my shoulder, and squeezed it lightly. “Go back to the inn. Seph won’t be able to hurt you, not when she’s dead. There are rules to the coven, to protect us all. Making a thrall breaks the biggest one we have.”

  “Because it’s morally reprehensible?” I said.

  He patted my shoulder. “Because it gives a demon autonomy, disasters have started from less. We’re lucky you caught Rudy so early, a few more years…let’s just say your introduction to the coven will be a merry one.”

  “How nice,” I said. It sounded hollow, even to my ears.

  “This is how our world is,” Alvir said. “It’s the one you chose to enter, no matter the reason. This…is not the worst thing you’ll see, if you live long enough. Best not to let it bother you too much.”

  I nodded, because that was all I was really capable of doing wasn’t it? Little Yir with her little nods. Just listening to the witch in the room and moving on. Just forget something so reprehensible and…move on.

  Because I was weak, incapable, and by all respects just a child.

  Walking out of the jewelers was a numb thing, there were a few vigils waiting outside but they let me pass. Seemingly keeping people away from the jeweler’s store. My walk was a haze, I didn’t recall the details of how I got to the slums, but that was where my feet led me.

  I found our usual spot and let out a whistle, it was late, so Riri might not have been there.

  I waited for a while and…nothing. Just myself and the passerby's giving me strange looks. Shame. I heads back to the northern district, back to my inn, back to my bed, and prepared to fend off the nightmares to come.