Torsday, the fourth day of the week, came and went just like any other. However, it’s time spent in the total darkness of the night dragged on seemingly endlessly. Minute counting felt futile. The night watch went beyond just boring. The campfire seemed to struggle to consume the wood.

  The moon had disappeared behind the planet’s shadow. Despite the cloudless sky, not a star shone in with their radiant, heavenly glory. Even as the flames danced on the wood pyre, the surrounding trees barely reflected any of it. The campfire’s flames created a warm orange glow that extended one’s sight to only twenty feet.

  The nightly winds blew a stiff, chilly breeze that even the thickest wool could barely block. The flames bent over, submitting almost entirely to the brief few seconds of fast-moving air. Once the breeze passed by, the flames stood up again, thrilled but tiredly. The wood was too stubborn to char.

  Morgan sat at the edge of the campfire’s protective rock ring, just itching to have a solid, warm hug. His bedroll was wrapped around him like an undersized blanket. He was too awake to sleep but equally too tired to do anything but watch.

  He looked slightly to the left of where he sat, just on the other side of the flames. Claudia was deep in her sleep. Her sleeping bag was in the best shape out of everyone. It was also very plush and warm looking. Then he looked slightly right of her and saw Boris balled up inside of his bag, and to his right was Mostafa. Morgan envied their sleep.

  Then he felt a pair of dainty, cold fingers grip his shoulders. What he hadn’t realized before was that he had tensed up every muscle in his body trying to stay warm. Although the cold touch sent shivers down his spine, the movements released his muscles. His shoulders let go and slouched to a more relaxed position. Morgan let out a content sigh. The fingers continued their work, relieving him of his stress and the soreness in his body. Then it pulled him back to lie down and, as he did, he found himself staring at the face he’d seen the previous day.

  A beautiful pinkish-red face, almost elven-like, stared at him with a gleeful smile. She knowingly hid her fangs, but exposed her long pointy ears as she pulled her silvery and wavy hair back into a side-parted bob. She wore clothes that looked completely unfamiliar to him. Some sort of short-sleeved, one-piece shirt and a set of black canvas-like pants with a leather belt going through loops. It looked like a simple outfit given that the shirt was black and the pants were brown. It almost lacked texture or wrinkles or even character.

  Something inside him told him to panic. It told him he was in danger, but what danger could he be in when a face that pretty was watching over him when the moon refused to? He willingly laid down on the ground, locking eyes with the red-skinned beauty above him. Her purple irises flickered and danced, as if they were magical flames burning inside tiny circular bottles. It had a sort of mystifying shimmer and sparkle to it.

  Boorishly, he reached up to pull the woman into a kiss. Much to his surprise, she leaned into it, locking lips with him. Then something magical happened. He felt both his and her lips part and as he breathed out; she breathed in. It felt good. It felt calming. Even the voice that panicked fell quiet in blissful satisfaction.

  He felt her spindly fingers interlock with his. Despite having sharpened talons for fingernails, she was delicate enough to not hurt him. He felt a weight press down his airless chest. She had laid down on top of him and, much to his surprise; she was not heavy at all, but he realized she was very much a giantess. His feet touched her knees, meaning she had a full foot of height over him.

  Despite being completely breathless, he had no urge to breathe. Still, he put his hands to her silken cheeks and pushed her head back. It was at that moment that he realized he was empty. He took a deep, audible gasp.

  Her hand quickly moved to cover his mouth. She leaned back down and whispered in his ear, in perfect common, “Don’t make a noise. Come with me, darling.”

  Then, in a blink, they teleported away.

  When Morgan opened his eyes, he found himself in a place that was both warm and damp. Reddish stone or clay formed the walls. He thought it might’ve been terracotta. He stood up and approached the hearth. It was a large rectangle, outline with stones, three feet across and eight feet long, all lit up with flaming charcoal. Smoke billowed upward into a chimney.

  He felt a hand touch his shoulder. He looked over and saw the woman again, gave her a friendly smile, and bowed.

  She smiled back slyly. “I apologize for my skittish behavior. I had to make sure you weren’t another Paladin.”

  Morgan laughed whole heartedly. “Me? A paladin? Pft.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m too much of drunk and a ‘menace to society,’ as they like to put it,” he said, putting a set of gestured air quotes around the words.

  She too let out a playful laugh at his words, forgetting that she was letting her pearly white teeth show. “A human with a sense of humor. I like it.”

  Feeling a little more awake than before, he had the presence of mind to actually pose a question to her. “Why have you been following us? And why come for me specifically? I mean, I’m not complaining—”

  She placed a single finger on his lips to quiet him. “Honey, you’re cute. Most call me Lilinyra, although, for you, you can call me Lily.”

  He gently nodded. “Lily, quite a pretty for such a pretty…” his voice trailed off. It had just occurred to him at this very moment that she was naked and the warm glow of the hearth cast rays of light that made her proportions appear even more appetizing to him. “What are you, exactly?”

  She seemingly deliberately played into the whole innocence aspect regarding her nude state. She pretended to ignore his very distracted gaze. “I am Lily.”

  He put up his hand to put a blinder between his left eye and her body as he turned his head away. “I mean, what manner of species are you? You’re not human, but you don’t look like an elf either.”

  “Oh, that.” She hesitated. “I am something unpronounceable to your people. However, you may know me as a Calsophoran Inciter. In other terms, a succubus.”

  Morgan gulped. Stealthily, he reached for a three-inch pocket knife in the slots of his trousers. He knew full well what that meant for him. He was a snack and while it was about to be the best night of his life; it was also about to be his last. Shaken by the revelation, he spoke timidly, “does this mean I’m on the menu?”

  She clasped her hands together. “Perhaps. I’ve been on this world for long enough that I’ve grown curious about something common to you humans, and the elves, and beastfolk.”

  He gripped the knife in the pocket. He hesitated to draw it. “What would that be?”

  “I believe the term is called dating.”

  If he had a drink, he would’ve spat it all out in disbelief. “Wait, what?” He asked.

  “For several thousand years, I’ve been feeding on lone stragglers who wander too far into my territory. That said, over that time, I learned about human society. It’s also very lonely out here.”

  “So you’re asking me to be your boyfriend?” His grip on the knife released.

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. One, why me? Two, don’t you have to like, eat people’s souls to stay alive?”

  “I find you attractive, at least for what counts as attractive by human standards, and technically, I can get nourishment from anything. It doesn’t have to be souls.”

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  “Oh, that’s unexpected.”

  “So, will you?”

  He found himself at a loss for words. It made no sense. Why would a demon of her type try something different? It had to be a trap. After all, why would she take him so far away from the others? Was it because of Claudia? He threw the question.

  Her response, as filled with hesitation as it was, appeared genuine. “The Priestess of Torcall that travels with you is why. She would see all my kind destroyed. Am I so evil that I cannot even be allowed to try something new, something not evil?”

  He stammered for a response. There was no logical way that this, any of this, was real. “I suppose nothing says you can’t, but also, I thought you demons were all like bat-shit insane?”

  “Aren’t all men arrogant pricks who think with their genitalia?” She countered.

  “Fair point.”

  “So, will you give me the chance?”

  ***

  The next morning, Claudia awoke just short of sunrise. The bright light of the morning sun blasted her face and, even with shut eyelids, still blinded her. She sat upright and turned away from the rising sun. A large yawn escaped her lips. She was the first of them to wake up and for the first time in a long time, she actually felt well rested.

  When Boris awoke, he woke up to the smell of breakfast. Seasoned eggs and the scent of smoked but overly salted sausage. He rubbed the crust out of his eyes and rolled over. “Oi, Morg!” he said loudly, “Wake up!” Then slapped the middle of the sleeping bag.

  Morgan bolted upright. Boris’ hand had hit the middle of his gut and it hurt a lot. His eyes opened wide. He couldn’t believe it. He remembered being somewhere else. The smell of food distracted him. “Ooh, what’s cooking?”

  Claudia pulled the cast-iron skillet off the fire and set it down on a patch of cleared dirt. “Protein,” she said bluntly.

  “No spuds?” Morgan asked.

  “Nope. I found those growing this morning.”

  Breakfast was short-lived. They quickly ate what had been cooked, but it didn’t feel filling. However, it wasn’t the lack of food that ruined the morning, but the question that Mostafa had for Morgan.

  “Morgan, what were you dreaming about?” He asked.

  “Pardon?”

  “I woke up at the earliest hours to take a piss and overheard you mumbling something about some woman?”

  Morgan swiftly broke eye contact. It felt a lot more real than a dream. Then he wondered if it was actually real. It had to have been real. He could still feel her skin on his fingertips and taste her cherry lips.

  “Morgan?” Mostafa raised a brow.

  The strange behavior regarding the dream even drew Claudia’s attention. “Dreams, even vivid ones, are normal. However, out here, we need to be careful. Who knows what these demons are capable of.”

  Morgan shook his head, trying to dismiss the emotional well that bubbled within. “I know, I know. I can’t control my dreams. Never have been.”

  “Well,” Boris chimed in. “What was it about?”

  Morgan clammed up. “Nope, not telling.”

  “Oh come now, you’d spare us all the knowledge of the sweetheart you’re wooing?” He asked jokingly.

  “Fine, you want to know?” Morgan sounded off. “Her name was Lilinyra.”

  Claudia’s eyes widened. “Say that again?”

  “Lily.” He shortened the name. It was probably not a smart idea to use the full name of a succubus in the confessor’s presence.

  “That’s not what you said. There were more syllables to that name.” Claudia’s voice got a lot stiffer. “Now spill it or I will make you.”

  “Lilinyra. I saw her following us the other day and befriended her.” He spoke in a half-truth. It’s one thing if Boris knew he went the distance in the dreamscape. It would be a death sentence if she knew.

  The confessor drew a bundle of sage and shoved it into Morgan’s hands. “I want you to carry this while it burns.”

  He looked down at the bundle. “Uh, Confessor. What am I supposed to hold this with while it’s burning?”

  “You’re a man. Come up with a solution.” She said, igniting a match and throwing into the bundle.

  Morgan panicked for a solid couple of seconds before throwing it into the fire pit, where it burned harmlessly. Mostafa and Boris both let out a solid chuckle whilst Morgan shot a wicked glare at them.

  Even hours into the day, Morgan’s crazed dream gave Claudia something new to be worried about. She thought about it. Thought about the what-ifs, the capabilities that their, rather her, enemy had. She began studying him throughout the morning, making sure that he never left her side or her view. If there was indeed a demon or hellion vying for him, she needed to make sure that task was nigh impossible.

  Morgan began counting the minutes. He wanted to see his Lily again, see her delicate smile. He could recall the conversations they had in very clear detail. It made him smile. He kept rubbing his fingertips together, trying to remake the feel of her soft skin. Not seeing her ate at him for most of the morning. Counting the minutes only worsened his impatience.

  By lunch, Claudia had thoroughly studied Morgan, seemingly without him even taking notice. She knew he was thoroughly distracted. Adventurers and sellswords rarely had lovers. Their job simply made that impossible. If being loveless weighed that heavily on him, then a dream of this sort was most likely a concoction by a demon. Assuming dreams of this sort were not common for him. With how flustered and quiet he’d been all morning, this succulent dream was anything but normal.

  When they sat down for lunch, she wanted to inquire further about said dream. She finished the salted meat stick and turned to him. “So,” she began by drawing out the ‘O’ sound. “Care to elaborate about that person who was following us?”

  Morgan kept his mouth shut. He knew better than to answer the question directly. “She isn’t following us anymore.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “It was a dream, damnit. That’s it!” He snapped back. “Can a man not have a one-off happy dream for once in his life? Holy fucking shit, woman.” He threw his wrappings onto the ground and stormed off.

  That confirmed her suspicions. Not only was he lonely and likely suffering from the long term mental effects of romantic isolation, but it was controlling him. The surface level studying she’d done with psychology was, unexpectedly, proving useful. Unfortunately, this meant that his mental state was compromised and if one demon could influence it, the rest could. She spent the rest of the day hatching a plan to fix that.

  ***

  Stars filled the sky like a bottle of spilled glitter. A bucket of water smothered the fire, leaving no hot coals. Claudia stood above the sleeping body of Morgan, staff in hand, with incense billowing out of it in no small quantity. She prayed quietly so as not to awake him because she needed him to stay asleep for the plan to work. She called upon Torcall and the saints for protection, for guidance, for the willpower to overcome demonic influences.

  She closed her eyes for just a moment.

  Coming back around, she heard a voice, a familiarly gruff masculine voice. Morgan was just ahead. The dream spell had worked. In this state, she summoned her armor, which appeared on her person. With a goal in the forefront of her mind, she strode her way toward him. The protective spell she wanted to cast had to be done in a way that he’d accept it. It was a strange magic that behaved radically different to a lot of other clerical or paladin-type spells.

  As she approached, she heard an unfamiliar voice speaking. It was gentle, almost alluring, and without question, wholly feminine. It came from inside the house before her, made entirely of painted concrete with a smoke plume coming from the chimney. Claudia stepped up to the door and kicked it in.

  A pair of heads spun on a swivel to stare at their intruder. One belonged to Morgan, a man who seemed relaxed if not for the interruption. The other belonged to a woman of pink skin, horns, and flaming purple eyes. She held the staff out in front and chanted a spell in old emporian.

  The demoness hastily darted for Claudia, hissing and spitting in unbridled rage. She clambered over the furniture, but as she reached the confessor, she found her cloven feet glued to the ground by holy chains.

  The confessor then spoke aloud, “Demon! You have no power here. Torcall protects this man and I act as his hammer of justice. Begone creature of the abyss. Begone and never return!”

  The demoness hissed again, showing every sharpened tooth in her mouth. Acid sputtered out from a pair of incisors that enlarged on command, but the spit fell short.

  Morgan hurried to his feet and to Lily’s side. “Claudia!” he shouted. “What are you doing?”

  “Saving your soul,” she responded. “The power of Torcall compels you!” Claudia then pulled the burning incense disk from the staff’s reliquary and threw it at the demon. “Begone demon!”

  The incense turned into a cloud of gray dust, smothering the demon in sanctified powder. Her skin began to burn and boil, but the chains on the floor stopped her from leaving, not without ripping her feet off at the ankles.

  Morgan took several steps away, coughing from the dust cloud. When it cleared, all that remained was a small puddle of bubbling blood on the ground. Morgan turned to Claudia, furious at the actions taken. However, before he could curse her out, she splattered him with holy water. Then he saw black smoke around his wrists and neck appear like chains, then dissipate. He fell to knees, weakened and strangely self-aware. “What…” his voice trailed off.

  Claudia took a deep breath and leaned on her staff. “Thank the heavens above!” she exclaimed. “I was afraid the worst had come to pass.”

  A sudden wave of emotions washed over him, of anger, fear, desperation, confusion and last, lust. At the same speed at which it all hit him, it was all gone, leaving him with just reality and the moment at hand. “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t need to,” Claudia remarked. “Rest knowing that Torcall has saved you. She is gone and fortunately for both of us, we never saw her true form.”

  He looked up toward the confessor. The featureless rectangular helmet unnerved him. Old emporian designs always had. “Why’s that?”

  “Just take my word for it. Be glad and rest. I’ll see you at dawn.”

  Then he woke up to the feeling of a warm sun upon his face and the sound of a distant rooster cawing.