Interrogation

Avric worked in silence, his gauntlets clinking as he pulled the rope tight around the demon’s wrists and ankles, then secured her to a tree. The female demon glared at him, her crimson eyes glowing faintly even under the fading light of day.

Borik and Tomas busied themselves with stripping valuables and searching information from the other corpses before unceremoniously dragging the bodies toward the charred pile of goblin remains. 

With one shove, the demons joined the goblins. It didn't take long for Borik to set the newly added corpses on fire, causing the stench of burning flesh rose thick and heavy.

Morgana wrinkled her nose. “Lovely. Roast demon. Just what my appetite needed,” she muttered, but her voice carried no real humor.

The trio were too tired to reply.

"I will be there, away from those freshly burning delicacies." She said, pointing towards the treeline. 

Slipping away from the group while their focus lingered on the fire, Morgana moved into the shadows and summoned her Soul Tome. 

The pages fluttered open, glowing faintly, and words etched themselves across the parchment. Her heartbeat kicked up as she saw the count. More than three skills... way more than three.

"How the fuck..?" Her eyes widened. “Well, that’s new. Guess demons are a whole different loot table, huh?” she whispered to herself.

The glowing text burned into view one by one:

[Skill Gained: Abyssal Bolt] – Unleash a concentrated projectile of dark magic that sears both flesh and spirit.
[Skill Gained: Soul Leech] – Successful strikes restore a fragment of stamina.
[Skill Gained: Infernal Guard] – A brief ward of dark energy that shields the caster from one incoming attack.

Morgana tilted her head. “Not bad… flashy offense, sustain, and defense. Feels like I just unlocked the whole damn starter pack.”

More lines carved themselves across the page.

[Skill Gained: Dreadful Aura] – Your presence inspires fear in lesser beings. Slightly weakens enemy morale in combat.
[Skill Gained: Linguist of the Abyss] – Grants full comprehension and fluency of both ancient and modern Demon Tongue, written and spoken.

Morgana froze, her lips parting. “Oh… well, shit.” Her gaze slid back toward the bound demon across the camp. “Guess that’s convenient. Or incredibly dangerous. Both. Definitely both.”

The book dimmed and shut itself, vanishing into her runes. Morgana exhaled sharply and returned to the group, masking her nerves with a cocky grin.

“You three look dead on your feet. Let me handle watch duty with our little guest. Honestly, she could slip away even if I tied her up with shoelaces,” she said, hands on hips.

Borik gave her a flat look, bruised and weary. “Fine, watch her. But if she slips, it’s yer hide.”

Avric sighed but nodded. Tomas muttered a tired prayer under his breath. None of them had the strength to argue.

The march back to the horses was silent. No one spoke; even the forest seemed quieter, wary of what had transpired. By the time they reached the clearing where they had left the animals tethered, the sun had dipped low, painting the horizon in fading streaks of red.

“We’ll rest here,” Avric said at last. “We are already tired. Marching through the night will only dull our blades and leave us blind.”

No one objected. The group set up a small camp, keeping the bound demon tied to a thick oak at the edge. The fire crackled, casting her shadow long against the ground.

Morgana took the first watch. She stood with her scythe resting against her shoulder, eyes flicking from tree line to captive. The others soon drifted off, exhaustion claiming them one by one.

Once the last breath of Borik’s snoring filled the camp, Morgana whispered, “Veil of Silence.”

A dome of unnatural stillness settled over the bound demon. Even the fire’s crackle faded to nothing. Morgana approached slowly, crouching before the figure.

“Fake sleeping isn’t very convincing,” she murmured in Demon Tongue.

The demon’s eyes snapped open, crimson widening in shock. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Then, tentatively, she whispered back, “…You speak Demon Tongue?”

Morgana smirked. “Isn't that obvious?”

The demon stared at her in silence, suspicion sharpening in her gaze. Finally she hissed, “You’re not human.”

Morgana tilted her head, letting the corners of her lips curl. She whispered, “No. I’m not.”

For a heartbeat, silence hung heavy between them. Then Morgana let her disguise slip away. Her horns unfurling, wings stretching ever so slightly, her true aura bleeding into the air like spilled ink.

The demon’s jaw slackened. “…You’ve been hiding. In their city.”

Morgana gave a small shrug. “It’s easier than you’d think.” She didn’t add anything else, didn’t confirm nor deny, and the silence filled itself. The demon’s eyes narrowed, conclusions clicking into place.

“A spy,” the captive muttered, almost to herself. “That explains it.”

Morgana’s smile was thin, amused. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

The demon seemed to accept it, no further questions about Morgana’s loyalties spilling out.

Morgana leaned closer, her tone sharpening. “Tell me, what’s happening at the frontlines?”

The captive straightened, some pride flickering back into her voice. “We fight. We bleed. But we do not falter. For every fortress we batter, for every human that falls beneath us, it is worth the cost. The tide is turning, slowly but surely. The humans cling to their walls, but we will burn them down.”

Morgana listened with a blank face, her eyes cold. No guilt, no hesitation, just the faintest flicker of interest at the fanatic conviction in the demon’s tone.

“And the ruins,” Morgana pressed. “Why are you so desperate to take them?”

The captive looked up sharply. “…You don’t know?”

Morgana arched a brow. “I know enough to ask.”

After a long silence, the demon finally spoke. “Those lands are ours by blood. Our last Demon Lord fell there. His death cursed the soil, but his spirit lingers. The seers say he will rise again. We cannot fail him.”

Morgana’s pulse quickened, but she didn’t let it show. “I see.” 

She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “I’ll help you escape. But you need to tell your commanders something for me. Ease the push. Pull back. You’re spilling lives faster than they’re worth.”

The demon’s eyes widened, then narrowed with suspicion again. “…Why would you—”

Morgana didn't give a full answer to her question. "Someone needs to deliver my message. I'll free you when the time is right. The rest... well, that’s up to you.”

The demon’s eyes widened again, mistaking her meaning for allegiance. She gave a sharp nod, the fire of belief igniting stronger in her gaze.

Morgana’s disguise slid back over her like a veil, horns and wings vanishing as her human form returned. “Sleep while you can,” she said quietly, turning away. “Tomorrow won’t be kind.”

She walked back to her post by the fire, the silence spell fading. The others still slept, unaware.

Hours later, Borik stirred awake for his turn at watch. Morgana gave him a tired smile, stretching her arms.

“Your turn, shorty. Try not to fall asleep, yeah?” she quipped before settling onto her bedroll.

It didn't take long for her to fall asleep. And wake up hours later. It was towards morning, and Tomas was sitting near the fire, his back facing the captive demon. 

Morgana, faking that she is still asleep, whispered a single command. Lance of Midnight. The shadows around the bound demon stirred and slid, invisible to all but her. They sharpened into a blade and sliced clean through the ropes.

The demon wasted no time, looking well rested after the short nap she took. With a snap of motion, she swung her bound arms into Tomas’s temple. The priest collapsed to the ground, dazed.

By the time Avric and Borik jolted awake, the demon was already sprinting into the treeline, vanishing into the dark.

Morgana sat up slowly, feigning sleepiness. Inside, however, her heart hammered with excitement.