Tirren sat in his dark room. A pristine set of dark metal armor, with golden highlights along it sat in one corner of the room. He tried to pull the ring from his finger again, but his arm spasmed against it. Tirren set his mind to the effort, and fought the pressure of his own body, from his demon. He got a hold on the ring, and then he forced his hand with the ring slowly open. He managed to pull the ring up to his knuckle, and his middle finger, the one wearing the ring, spasmed down in a last effort to stop him, but he managed to pull it free.

  Tirren examined the ring between his fingers before setting it down on the floor in the middle of his room. The voice in his head was quiet once he was away from the ring. Tirren took a deep breath. His psychic power had grown. He could get the ring off. Tirren slipped the ring back on.

  YOU COULD BE FREE OF ME, AND YET YOU RETURN? YOU DO NOT TRULY UNDERSTAND MY NATURE IF YOU WILLINGLY COME BACK.

  “Tell me how I can improve my mana use, demon.”

  YOU THINK TO ASK ME FOR GUIDANCE. I WILL NOT GIVE IT. YOU MUST GIVE ME SOMETHING IN RETURN. IF YOU INVITE ME INTO YOUR MANAWELL, I WILL TEACH YOU HIDDEN SECRETS OF MANA. I WILL HELP YOUR SIMPLE MANA TECHNIQUE TURN INTO SOMETHING THAT WOULD TRULY STRIKE FEAR INTO THE HEARTS OF YOUR ENEMIES.

  “I won’t invite you in.” Tirren said adamantly.

  YOU DON’T KNOW THE BENEFITS. SEIDREN, FROM THE BEGINNING OF TIME HAVE ALWAYS SOUGHT POWER. THE ROAD TO TRUE POWER IS LONG AND GRUELING. HOWEVER, THERE ARE WAYS TO SHORTEN THE ROAD. TREASURES AND POTIONS WHICH CAN STRENGTHEN YOUR MIND OR YOUR BODY.

  SEIDREN DEAL WITH MY KIND LOOKING FOR POWER. IF YOU WERE TO TAKE ME IN, AND RETAIN YOUR MIND, YOU WOULD LIKELY PROGRESS TO SAND OR GRAVEL SEIDREN, EVEN WITHOUT AN ASPECT. FELL ENTITIES FUNCTION AS MANA ENGINES, AND PROVIDE A SOURCE OF INCREDIBLE MANA. WERE YOU TO FORM A PSYCHIC WELL, AND TAKE ME IN, I CAN PROVIDE OTHER FUNCTIONS THERE AS WELL.

  Tirren was silent for a long minute, processing the information he had gleaned. Not only was his ring a boundless fountain of, albeit unforthcoming, knowledge, he would be a great source of power for a Seidren strong enough to contain him. Tirren had no doubt that if he invited the demon in, that would be his last act. He wracked his mind, thinking of things the demon wanted. Obviously, to take over his body. But what else would the demon want? He liked ruling, and had the pride of a lion.

  “If you can help me with this. I will let you fight my next monster fight. I will surrender my agency for ten minutes.”

  The demon was quiet.

  THAT WOULD BE ENJOYABLE. I WILL AGREE. GIVE ME YOUR AGENCY NOW, AND I WILL DEMONSTRATE WHAT NEEDS DOING.

  “Just tell me what to do, I will do it.”

  YOU NEED MORE MANA PATHWAYS. YOU ONLY HAVE TWO PATHWAYS, FROM YOUR MANA WELL TO YOUR HANDS. THAT IS SHORTSIGHTED, BUT NOT BEYOND REPAIR. YOU SHOULD AT LEAST HAVE A PATHWAY TO ALL OF YOUR EXTREMITIES, YOUR SHOULDERS AND ALONG YOUR BACK.

  “Mana pathways? Those are required for stem Seidren? Can I make more mana pathways as a Tree Seidren?”

  IT WON’T BE FUN. YOUR SPIRIT AND BODY ARE LESS MALLEABLE, AND WILL PUT UP GREATER RESISTANCE.

  Tirren felt hesitantly at his mana well. He could feel the paths he currently had, like old roads winding from the space behind his heart to his hands, where they branched into his fingers. He tentatively tried to push the mana downwards, towards his feet. It wouldn’t budge in that direction at all.

  YOU’VE GOT TO REALLY TRY.

  Tirren braced himself, and then pushed again. Nothing happened, so he gathered himself wholly and shoved. His mana well seemed impenetrable. Tirren shoved and shoved. He felt the demon begin to shove as well, and seeing as the demon was doing the same thing Tirren was, he allowed his psychic lock on the demon’s reach to lower.

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  Like a horse kicking open a door, the demon lunged through, and Tirren cried out as the will of the demon grabbed his mana, and shoved exits from his mana well into his spirit. It felt as though a dull knife was being dragged through the tissue of his spirit. Tirren found himself pushing along with the demon, and the mana seared him. He realized absently that he was screaming.

  He pushed the mana downward toward his foot, and it was an unendurable agony of several minutes until the mana reached his foot. Ambient mana pooled around his foot, as he breached the outside of his body. Tirren’s new mana pathway ached with all the pain of a new wound, which lanced through his mind, body and spirit in lancing aches.

  Tirren had hardly caught his breath when the demon began drilling a path to Tirren’s second leg. His scream was wordless and pained, and he fought with the demon, wounding his very spirit.

  The demon was unrelenting. Tirren was conscious and aware of the pathway through his second leg, but when the demon began other pathways, he lost consciousness, and his agency slipped wholly from him. He retreated to the peaceful dark.

  Tirren came to, slowly, realizing that he was a passenger in his own body. His sleepy mind registered that the body was moving, and he with it, but there was fog between him and the body. Tirren began to struggle for possession, but as he did, pain came with it. He backed away, and watched out of his eyes at the surroundings. He was crouched on the edge of a rooftop, and a dizzying drop of at least three stories was to his immediate left. Ivarmarktarius, in control of Tirren’s body, was slowly inching along the rooftop. It was night.

  STOP. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO TAKE YOUR BODY BACK. I NEED IT STILL. I HAVE LOCATED A TARGET SEIDREN. WATCH ONLY.

  Tirren was raging. The inability to control his limbs was strangely claustrophobic. Tirren once again reached for control, and as he did, he felt the pain of his spirit, which the demon was surely feeling. Ragged lines of agony raced across his body, one down each of his legs, one to the crown of his head, one to each portion of his spine, four total, and breaches at his shoulders and knees. The spiritual agony rebuffed Tirren.

  The demon seemed to be unaffected. He lowered the body down and then dropped a couple inches to a window sill, lithe as a cat. He grabbed the open window, which was cracked mere inches, and hauled it open quietly. Tirren braced his mind, then reached again for his body, but the screen of pain assaulted him evermore.

  Tirren’s body stole down the hallway, rounding a corner, then through a doorway. Tirren had started forming new mana pathways sometime that morning, so if it were the same day, Ivarmarktarius had only been in control for less than twelve hours. Tirren had almost woken several times, but the haze of pain kept him away from coming back up.

  Tirren didn’t know whose house he was in, or what they were doing, but it was definitely extra-legal and very dangerous. Tirren realized that the fog of pain was the reason he was being kept from his body. If he wanted to fight for control, he would have to accept that pain as his own, and endure it. That was only the beginning, he would then have to wrest control from the demon. Tirren paused for a moment, bracing himself.

  He pushed into the pain. The pain was everywhere, pressing in on him, and everywhere in his spirit. He reached for control of his body, but it was further in. He pushed inwards, accepting the pain as part of being alive. His spirit was injured, and in so acknowledging, he gained more control.

  The demon, sensing this, stopped.

  DO NOT FIGHT ME ON THIS! YOUR MANA VEIL IS PATHETIC, IT WOULD NOT HIDE YOU FROM THE BLIND. I AM DOING THIS FOR STRENGTH. YOU WILL THANK ME LATER.

  Tirren wouldn’t accept it. He was his own master. He fought forward still, and began to feel the power over his limbs. Tirren’s boot knife was in his hands, and then it plunged down, sinking into his thigh. The demon had realized what it was keeping Tirren away. It was the pain. The ancient being had the will of a dragon, and with it he resisted pain like it wasn’t there.

  Tirren felt the knife entry wound, and it assaulted him with an entirely new experience of pain. Physical pain. It was as if Tirren had been drinking lemon juice, very sour and unwelcome, and then he had eaten a spicy pepper. A new flavor of pain altogether. Ivarmarktarius walked forward, removed a piece of art hanging from the wall and then looked at the safe behind it. Tirren watched as he entered the combination to the safe, and it opened in front of them.

  A vine sat on a golden plate, with several grapes along its stem, there was a pile of gold coins, a couple bottles of a faintly glowing milky substance, a pearl necklace, a stone that was strangely spherical. Those were the things which jumped out to Tirren. It appeared that he was robbing a Seidren, and a rich one at that.

  Tirren watched, dumbfounded as he began hurriedly eating the grapes, and stuffing other objections into his pockets with his other hand. Some of the items, which looked mysterious and powerful, the demon left alone on the shelf. Others he began stuffing into his pockets. Once he had looted the safe he turned.

  “Grab some gold too! At least ten pieces.” Tirren shouted in his mind. The demon turned, grabbed a handful and then was off back the way he came. Tirren watched as they made their way away from the chest. Tirren could see the open window ahead of them. A form appeared, standing in front of the window.

  “Unlucky Seidren thief, this was a bad move.” The voice called out into the hall.