Elissa said ’no’, they couldn’t go out on their own personal mission and what she says goes, so they wouldn’t.

  Though, nothing was said about a detour on an assigned mission nor did they ever have any intention of going there themselves.

  It took little convincing from Sterling to sway one of Elissa's peers into assigning them simple delivery missions.

  But that was, by far, the easy part.

  After their requests, even the other supervisors were wary. If they were sent out, it wasn’t far, and certainly not in the direction of their objective.

  But that didn’t mean their journeys were useless.

  The large bat squeaked defiantly as Ryala held it closely to her chest, its hook nails trying to pull itself free of her grasp.

  She hugged it tighter, her soft gentle voice carrying the incantation into its large piqued ears.

  The bat stilled, its eyes taking on the identical dark hue as Ryala’s.

  Her grip loosened, allowing it to perch on her arm.

  “Alright,” Valan spoke. “I concede. This continent’s psychic arts are inferior.”

  Everyn elbowed him in the rib, “Like Blumherth’s any better?”

  He wrapped his arms around his stomach, shielding from another blow, as he glared at her, “We’re not at the level of Aldir, but we’re better than you.”

  Ryala wrapped the complacent bat in her spare headwrap, “Enough,” she said calmly, cradling the creature like an infant. “She is mine until the apex of the new moon. Two nights to deliver the Dewsilver.”

  “Assuming the Faedemon’s still alive,” Everyn muttered.

  In honesty, she wasn’t even sure which outcome she even desired. On one hand, a dead Demon was always a good thing but on the other she cared about Martin and he, for some reason, still cared about this Demon. That and she would be useful.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Everyn didn't know how much this monster knew about the Fae but she did know the palace and some scope of the population housed in it. She would know what resources were being hoarded, maybe even know if there were any other prisoners that could be freed.

  “If she’s dead, she’s dead,” Sterling said simply as he ripped Stalkroot from the cavern floor with a grunt. “If we manage to capture her, she’s at least one Faedemon that’s out of our way. Whatever happens, it’s useful.” There was an air of nerves to his voice.

  While not technically a direct disobeyal of orders, they were acting against intent. They would certainly face repercussions, but there was a hope they’d at least be lessened when… if they succeeded

  As Sterling rose from the floor, the cavern echoed with the sound of his cracking back, "How do you plan on getting that thing back into the base?”

  “I do not,” a smile spread across her face as she stroked the bat’s snout, its eyes closing in relaxation. “She’ll wait for us at the mouth of the cave.”

  “Bats don’t live in Dewsilver mines,” Valan argued as he pulled a long tendril of Stalkroot from a muddy puddle. “Someone will notice her.”

  “She will hide,” Ryala defended, cuddling the bat close to her chest.

  “I’m not the only one with Gods’ Eye. She'll be spotted.”

  “She only has to stay hidden until tomorrow,” Everyn interrupted. “We’ll send out the Dewsilver then. Besides, if they see her, they see her. By the time they start to worry about it, she’ll be gone.”

  Ryala nodded in approval as she continued to stroke the bat’s fuzzy face.

  Collecting the Dewsilver wasn’t difficult.

  It was everywhere, coating the walls and pooling in pocks on the floor.

  The purity was the tricky part. Chunks of debris could easily be filtered through cloth, but the spores of cave fungi, the sickness of still liquid, and miscellaneous stone toxins remained.

  A Faedemon could handle a lot more than a human, but Dewsilver itself had an amount of toxicity. If a human wound came in contact with Dewsilver it would almost certainly fester, fever and sickness would soon follow.

  And, in theory, this Demon would be filling her veins with the stuff.

  If she actually went through with it, Everyn would be impressed. Despite her contempt for this Demon, if she actually wanted a shot at her knowledge, she would need this substance as refined as possible.

  Boiling the metal killed much of the still liquid parasites and an amount of the fungi, but the stone toxins could not be removed with the resources she had.

  Instead she did what she could to nullify it.

  Mixing coaldust into the shining liquid created a lumpy black paste that she thinned with salt water so it could be more easily injected.

  This would hurt. A lot. But if she was what Martin insisted, she would do this and she’d be grateful.

  Everyn’s stomach turned as she drew the bowlful of sludge into the large syringe Ryala had stolen.

  Wrapping the needlepoint in a scrap of cloth to protect the bat, guilt knotted in Everyn’s chest. These were resources stolen from humans in need to help a Faedemon.

  Martin had better be right. She better be a godsdamned Saint Demon.