"Oh!" The gargoyle's mouth formed a perfect circle of astonishment. "You've got horns too!" It gestured excitedly toward the antlers adorning Sir Lunedale's helmet, then tapped its own peculiar amalgamation of protrusions with childlike pride. "I've got horns as well!" It quivered with almost palpable delight. "Think about it. If I stuck your head on top of mine, I'd have three kinds of horns. Three! Wouldn't that be grand?"

  Sir Lunedale teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. "I shall cleave your misshapen head from your shoulders and present it as tribute at the emperor's feet."

  "Oh." The gargoyle's smile twisted into something decidedly more menacing. "So you possess horns and harbor murderous intentions. You must be a demon yourself, then?"

  "Go to hell."

  "They are all demons—irredeemable fiends to the very last one," declared Bella Coren, her voice materializing from behind the stone creature. She emerged from the corridor's shadows, a faint crimson glow illuminating the left side of her face. "Fulfill your obligation, Reiss Daemon."

  "With profound reluctance," it muttered. "Nevertheless, I shall honor my pledge." The gargoyle thrust its glaive into the stone floor with supernatural force. With a sound like grinding continents, a monstrous centipede of living stone burst from the floor. Its chittering was deafening as it coiled its segmented body around the Reiss Daemon like a loyal hound. It pivoted to face the knights, assuming a posture of unmistakable threat. The faint-hearted among the intruders had already succumbed to terror; several archers' hands trembled so violently that arrows slipped from their grasp, clattering uselessly across the floor mere yards away.

  "Let us properly measure our respective capacities for violence, demons," the gargoyle—the Reiss Daemon—proposed with a smile that promised nothing but malevolence. Its massive tail swept ominously from side to side.

  Bella Coren had been moving with unnaturally swift strides—too swift. Her mind was burdened with overlapping concerns: Vanessa, who intended to parley with the Godmans at the gate; Evelyn, who had departed to inspect the subterranean escape tunnels; and herself, now committed to awakening a being of pure malice. Though a classically-trained mage renowned for her profound mastery of manipulation arts, she had meticulously avoided any experimentation with black magic or similarly forbidden disciplines. Yet circumstances now compelled her to summon and command a demon—an act that would have induced cardiac arrest from mere contemplation on any ordinary day. Today, however, she had no choice but to attempt it—regardless of personal cost.

  The statue occupied the corridor's center, positioned in a location so mundane that it typically escaped notice entirely. As she approached, each step grew increasingly laborious. Every fiber of her being screamed to retreat—to turn and flee, to seek alternative solutions. Yet her feet continued their inexorable advance. The day's final rays, filtering through a small elevated window, barely illuminated the statue's neck, leaving its face shrouded in deepening shadow.

  Following several steadying breaths, she found herself standing directly before the stone figure. The journey should have felt interminable; instead, it seemed barely a fraction of the actual distance. Suspicious by nature, Bella Coren hunched forward, meticulously examining the pedestal with her fingertips, searching for any indication of autonomous movement. She pressed her palm firmly against her chest until her breathing stabilized somewhat. Then, hesitantly, she spoke.

  "H-hello."

  Silence answered. Bella imagined that if it responded at all, it would erupt in mocking laughter—deriding her ignorance and naked fear. "What are you doing, Bella," she hissed at herself, rubbing her temples. "Making polite conversation with a statue... you're a fool." She heaped silent curses upon herself. "You might as well inquire about its dining preferences while you're at it."

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  "Haven't eaten yet, actually."

  Bella Coren froze, afraid even to draw breath. She raised her gaze incrementally, peering through protective fingers at the gargoyle's exquisitely carved features, scrutinizing its mouth for the slightest movement—any indication that it had spoken or might speak again. Occasionally, her attention darted nervously toward the colossal centipede sculpture beside it. Eventually, she released her withheld breath. "You're descending into hysteria," she muttered with a tremulous, self-deprecating laugh while gently shaking her head. "Try another approach."

  No practitioner at Saint·Asini had ever attempted to awaken the gargoyle. The methodology remained entirely unknown. All available information existed solely within realm of legend and folklore. According to the most widely accepted narrative, the illustrious mage Doranar had expended his entire fortune to acquire this dilapidated fortress and transform it into an academy—motivated significantly by the presence of this very statue. The legend said that a demon from Riss was imprisoned inside it—a chimera, part man, part bull, part bat, and part goat—bound to the stone as the castle's eternal guardian. Yet curiously, even when the castle initially fell to invaders, its master never invoked this supernatural defender.

  Commerce with demonic entities carries inherent peril. Such beings embody cunning cruelty, possessing physical prowess far surpassing human capabilities. However, they manifest an innate predilection for pacts and agreements—particularly contracts with mortal beings, humans above all others. Nevertheless—demons remain fundamentally demonic. Their contracts invariably contain insidious loopholes and treacherous provisions, enabling them to manipulate their counterparties for amusement, even fatally if opportunity permits. Such deception constitutes their peculiar pleasure—an inexhaustible source of entertainment they eternally savor.

  Bella Coren possessed no knowledge regarding what specific arrangement it had established with the keep's former master—nor how to properly rouse it from its apparent slumber.

  "Reiss Daemon, I summon you forth." No response.

  "Reiss Daemon—imminent peril threatens!" No response.

  "Great Reiss Daemon—your oath must be fulfilled if you seek liberation." No response.

  She attempted numerous potential trigger phrases and multiple incantations. When all proved fruitless, her long-suppressed frustration finally erupted. "How in all the hells do I make you honor your damn contract, you worthless piece of rock!" she shrieked, spittle flying as she hammered her fists against the stone base. "Tsk."

  Her head snapped upward. "Did you speak, statue?"

  "Tsk."

  "Have you been conscious throughout, deriving amusement from my humiliation?" She fixed it with an unwavering glare, particularly scrutinizing its facial features, determined to detect the slightest indication of animation. "Declare yourself—living or inanimate, statue?"

  "You carry on like a fishwife at the market."

  Bella glowered at its infuriatingly cherubic smile. "Very well, demon. You've witnessed sufficient embarrassment at my expense. Now fulfill your ancient obligation."

  Stone fragments crumbled from the gargoyle's lips as they parted. "Which obligation precisely? Share your evening meal?"

  Crimson fury surged visibly up Bella Coren's neck. "I caution you most seriously, demon. Should you continue—"

  "Compose yourself, madam." The gargoyle maintained its detestable smile with unwavering consistency. "Has this fortress fallen under threat?"

  "Abandon this pretense of ignorance, demon. You comprehend everything perfectly."

  "Hmph." Its smile vanished momentarily. "Then it appears I must honor contractual obligations established centuries past, must I not?"

  "Precisely so."

  The demon hooked two stony fingers into the corner of its mouth and pulled, as if stretching a yawn, cracking loose more fragments that fell to the floor. "In that case, I'll need to know who the new boss is."

  "What? New contractual party? Your meaning escapes me." Bella planted her fists defiantly upon her hips. "You remain bound by your original oath: when this keep faces danger, you are obligated to arise in its defense."

  The demon straightened from its crouched position and leaned casually against the wall. The sorceress instinctively retreated several paces. "You misunderstand, madam. I cannot act without establishing a new binding agreement." It crossed its massive arms and jutted out a hip, striking the pose of a common street thug. "See, the old boss is dead. I need a new one. Can't move without a contract, can I?" It blinked deliberately and offered a wickedly knowing grin.