Demon Queened (Remastered) - Chapter 3 - Birds of a Feather

Devilla

I flopped down upon my bed, completely unconcerned for the air of grace expected from a Demon Queen. Mentally exhausted as I was, I had given up completely on both modesty and dignity. Not that I had much of the former left to give, in any case; my outfit made that quite clear. Its upper half was composed of a black halter top that stopped just short of my midriff. It exposed my back, as all my outfits did, and had a decorative opening up top that showed off plenty of cleavage. My red skirt, meanwhile, was about equal in cloth and coverage, ending maybe a quarter of the way down my thighs. All of which would still be perfectly fine—at least by demon standards—if I wasn’t also sprawled out with my legs spread wide, black panties visible to anyone who happened to walk by.

Then again, Demon Queens weren’t exactly expected to be modest, were they? Today’s outfit was the direct result of me telling Abigail I wanted to ‘dress to impress,’ and I couldn’t deny that it had done its job. Nobody had given me any trouble when I demanded entry to the royal vaults, claiming that I wanted to take one of our national treasures for my own selfish use.

Unfortunately, impressing the treasury guards hadn’t been enough to accomplish my goals. While I now had a powerful magic item in my possession, my actual mission—recasting the Rite of Insight—had ended in failure. The Golden Box had opened for me without issue, but no matter how many times I reread the damn spell nothing had come of it. There was no shining light, no oppressive darkness, and certainly no new insight.

Casting that spell was considered a rite of passage for us Demon Queens. Created by Luci, the Fallen One, and first cast by her own daughter, Queen Dalleen, the archive of knowledge it represented had been added to by every queen who spoke the words, allowing their descendants to inherit millennia of accumulated contributions. The wisdom it contained was priceless, and I was far from happy to be without it.

Not to mention that it had been my one and only chance of learning holy magic. Luci herself had forbidden anyone from recording the divine tongue, for fear of further tainting the mortal realm with divine knowledge.

Of course, that ruling only applied to demons. It was extremely unlikely that humans had bound themselves in such a way. In fact, considering the Heroine’s ability to cast holy magic, I was fairly sure the Church must have some record of the language, but I doubted it was something they’d teach a random outsider, no matter how politely I asked.

“You seem pretty upset,” Abigail noted, following me into the room. “Your new toy not bringing you any joy?”

“It is a holy artifact,” I corrected, covering my face with a pillow. My ancestor had only brought a few items down from the heavens, and—aside from the collar Lucy used on me in the game—they were the only enchanted items I knew of in this world. The Golden Box was devoted purely to storing the Rite of Insight, while the Indestructible Sword had been lost during the last war, making the Empty Bag I’d taken all the more precious.

Sadly, Abigail did not look all that impressed. “Weren’t you the one who said you wanted to ‘play around with it’?”

“Urk… Is it just me, or have you been growing more and more pointed in your remarks?” I demanded, attempting to change the subject.

“You’re imagining it,” Abigail replied, her voice utterly deadpan. “I’m as scared of you as ever.”

“...I can tell you’re lying, but it isn’t making me feel any better.”

“No? Then what will? Do you want to call on a minstrel for a song? Or maybe you’d like the royal chefs to cook your favorite meal? It’s depressing, watching you mope around like this.”

“I am not in the mood for music right now,” I demurred, rolling on my side to face the wall. “And the chefs cannot make my favorite food….” Ahhh, I wanted fries. Potato chips, too. Failing that, anything salty and delicious would do…. I had never tasted such a dish in this lifetime, and the mere memory of greasy, crunchy, unhealthy potato sticks was enough to make my mouth water. Indeed, I was almost afraid to dive into the memory, for fear that if I lingered too long upon the taste, nothing else would satisfy me. “If only we had oil…”

“Huh? We do have oil.”

“What?” I sat bolt upright. “What sort? Why have we not used it in my lessons yet? Is it expensive?”

“Most people use peanut oil,” Abigail informed me, eyeing me up and down. For some reason, she looked a little suspicious of me. “And I don’t think you need to worry about expenses. The only reason we haven’t used it yet is that you’re a novice, and I didn’t want you splattering it all over yourself. Or me, for that matter. How did you even find out about cooking oil, anyways? I’d have thought your only use for it was boiling your enemies alive, or something.”

“Ha ha,” I replied dryly. “As if I’d ever do something like that….” Nevermind boiling people in oil, I’d never even executed anyone. The worst I’d ever done was throw people in jail for a few days.

“And if you must know, I learned about it from the Rite of Insight.” Lying came to me much easier in this life than it had in my last, thanks to years of practice. My conscience wasn’t entirely at ease with it these days, but my discomfort didn’t mean that I could discard the practice entirely. Besides, it was more misleading than outright untruthful. My mistake during the Rite had, in fact, been the catalyst for recovering memories of my past life. So, in a way, it truly was responsible. “How about potatoes? And salt? I haven’t seen salt at all.”

Abigail stared at me for a moment, confusion flickering across her face. “I’ve never heard of… poe-tay-toes? And the Tower ran out of salt years ago.”

“…Yes, I suppose that would be the case….” I’d been learning to cook over the last three days, and had added a few simple dishes to my repertoire, yet I had yet to see so much as a grain of salt. It made sense, when I thought about it. Since dryads could produce and grow any seeds they were familiar with, Dimona Tower had a decent selection of spices. But we couldn’t grow salt.

“Still, I really want to eat something salty,” I muttered to myself. “Let’s see, salt, salt…. I don’t even know where to begin with mining the stuff… but there’s plenty of it in the sea, right?”

I turned my attention to Abigail, a slow smile spreading across my features. She shuddered a little, taking an anxious step back. A little rude, but I wasn’t going to let it bother me. Not when I needed her help with my plan. 

“Abigail! I require a map of the continent. Including our current location, and the location of as many human settlements as possible.”

“That sounds like military intelligence. You’d need to talk to General Mifa about that.”

“Ah… I suppose that’s right….” I had momentarily forgotten how rare maps were in this world. Considering how isolated Dimona Tower was, it made sense that only the harpies in charge of reconnaissance would have anything close to an up-to-date map. Hopefully Mifa’s people had been doing their jobs; I’d never really checked.

“Very well!” I declared, sliding off the bed. “We shall proceed to the fortieth floor immediately!”

“You can’t be serious,” Abigail protested, staring at me in shock. “Aren’t you supposed to go through the proper channels for stuff like this? Maybe set up an appointment ahead of time?”

“Probably. I will have to beg forgiveness for my selfishness one last time, though. For the sake of my taste buds—no, for my people’s taste buds—no, for the enrichment of our very souls, I swear I shall bring salt to tables throughout this tower!”

Abigail stared at me for a long moment, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Then her shoulders slumped in defeat. 

“I don’t care anymore,” she mumbled. “The Rite must have driven her insane or something. Or maybe I’m just dreaming….”

“You will think you are dreaming when you eat a properly salted dish!” I grabbed Abigail’s hand, pulling her out the door and into the hallway. Rather than turning left toward the Tower stairs, I headed to the right and entered a room a little smaller than my closet. The only things in it were a couch and a large window, which stretched from slightly above the ground to almost touch the ceiling.

I strode to the window, dragging an unresisting Abigail behind me. A familiar tickle ran down my back, and I let it wash over me as I manifested my wings and climbed onto the ledge. Once there, however, I found myself hesitating.

I had flown more times than I could count, but I hadn’t spread my wings even once since recovering Jacob’s memories. I knew, intellectually, that the process had not changed. I should be able to do it as easily as I ever had, no matter what my vague recollection of physics—gathered almost entirely from reading wiki articles—said about the minimum wingspan required for a human to take flight. Still, it was frightening to stare down at the ground, so far beneath me, preparing to step out into nothingness. I was suddenly sick to my stomach. Jacob had possessed a fear of heights, and it seemed to be bleeding through.

“Is something wrong?” Abigail asked. She sounded exasperated.

“N-no,” I lied, doing my best to hide my nervousness. I took a deep breath, then released it slowly, centering myself. “I’ll be fine….” I inhaled again, closed my eyes, and leapt from the Tower.

The wind whistled past me as the power of my jump took me high into the sky, far above the roof of the Tower. My ascent slowed; for a moment I hung in the air, the force of my bound perfectly balanced with Solla’s gravity. I knew from experience that I could see the entire wasteland from up there, my gaze limited by nothing but the horizon itself. My eyes, however, remained firmly closed.

Gravity took me and I fell, plummeting faster and faster. My eyelids were still jammed shut, but I could feel the wind tearing at my clothes as I descended, throwing my skirt up around my waist where it fluttered violently. Forcing myself to act through the fear, I pumped my wings. One beat and my descent started to slow; a second brought me to a stop. My flight was not at all like that of a bird. My wings did not rely on my own strength, or even air currents. Flapping them was simply an easy way to activate and control my power. It was what the people of Solla called ‘wild magic’—natural abilities, unique to different magical species, which allowed for effects that no arcane casting could duplicate. Even better, these abilities could be utilized alongside actual spells.

“You’re flying like a fledgling.”

“I do not need your commentary,” I grumbled, opening my eyes at last. Abigail was hovering in front of me, her arms folded over her chest. “Do you have the time to waste on such things? I do not believe your magic power is strong enough to support prolonged flight.”

Abigail grimaced, glancing down at the ground far below. I had to fight to keep my eyes from following. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just let myself fall down a bit and then catch myself. And I’ll take breaks in the window rooms on the way down.” She shrugged, a look of resignation on her face. “That’s how I always do it.”

“...That is a terrible way to descend,” I declared, flapping my wings to move a little closer to her. Then I slid my arms about Abigail’s back and knees, taking her into a princess carry. She let out a little ‘eep’ but didn’t resist. “It’s a long way down and I refuse to spend it all falling. It would mess with my hair.” And give me serious nightmares, besides. I had done my fair share of freefalling in this lifetime, but now I had little things like Newton’s Laws and the damage inertia could do screaming in the back of my head and telling me not to take any stupid chances.

“Your hair.” Abigail looked as if she were torn between laughing and yelling, but settled for simply glowering at me instead. “You could have at least said something before grabbing me.”

“My apologies. Next time, I will.”

Abigail’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but she did not otherwise reply. For several minutes the only sound was that of my wings, which I would occasionally flap to reestablish my suspension of gravity.

“So…” I began, unable to bear the silence, “have you been my maid for long?”

“…What the hell kinda question is that?” Abigail demanded, scowling. “Don’t you know the work history of your own personal maid?”

My face flushed with shame. “I’m aware that I am a flawed hu… I mean, I am aware of my faults. Chief among them is the fact that I never paid attention to you, or anyone else. But I am trying, Abigail. I would appreciate it if you could meet me halfway.”

Abigail was silent for a moment. It was difficult as always to tell exactly where her black eyes were focused, but I got the feeling that she was studying my face.

“You’ve changed,” she said at last. “Ever since the Rite of Insight—it’s like you’ve become a completely different person.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed. “I am the same woman that I’ve always been. If anything has changed about me, it is merely that I’ve gained the wisdom of my ancestors.” 

On the outside, I remained perfectly calm. My voice was steady, and my gaze was centered on where I believed Abigail’s pupils to be. On the inside, I was sweating buckets. My heart was beating like mad and it was only by maintaining tight control over my breathing that I resisted the urge to hyperventilate. I truly was the same selfish woman I had always been, and yet I had undeniably changed thanks to my past life memories. Memories I was never meant to recover. If my subjects found out that I’d miscast the Rite of Insight, the holy ritual cast by every Demon Queen… I had no idea how they’d react. In the worst case, they might declare my reign to be illicit and rebel before Lucy could even arrive.

That thought alone was enough to send chills down my spine, and yet deep down I knew that it wasn’t the true source of my anxiety. I was more concerned for Abigail’s reaction, should she find out that I’d been lying to her. I had long since accepted that the warmth I felt for her would never be returned, yet for some reason the thought of her coming to hate me made me feel as if an icicle were being pressed against my heart.

“…The wisdom and insight of your ancestors.” Abigail’s voice was utterly flat. “Is that why you’re so good at sex all of a sudden?”

“Is that so strange? Demon Queens have sexual desires, the same as everyone else. They passed down quite a few words on the subject through the Rite.” None of that was a lie, so far as I knew. The Rite of Insight’s archive likely contained carnal knowledge beyond my wildest dreams. Not that I’d ever get the chance to find out.

“Knowing how to do something and being able to do it are two different things,” Abigail countered. Emotion had crept back into her voice, in the form of anger. Her wings pressed back against my arms, taking her back up into the air before I could protest. 

“You’re calling me by name. You suddenly want to learn how to cook, yet you know things that I never taught you. And now there’s your sudden obsession with salt—something that hasn’t even been in the tower since we were babies!” 

“Th-the Rite told me about salt. It’s supposedly delicious.” My voice cracked a little under the intensity of Abigail’s glare. I felt sweat beading on the back of my neck, and it took all of my willpower to keep meeting Abigail’s eyes. If I looked away, she’d surely lose all doubt.

“You said the chefs can’t cook your favorite meal without it. A favorite meal that apparently contains an ingredient I’ve never heard of, an ingredient you didn’t know we had, and another we haven’t had since you were an infant. Who the hell are you?” Abigail narrowed her eyes at me as she spoke. I responded by lifting my head high and jutting my chin out in defiance.

“I am Devilla Satanne, Demon Queen of Dimona Tower. If you are so deluded as to not recognize your own ruler, then I don’t know what to tell you.” It felt as if I were digging my own grave with every word. Abigail’s tail was lashing continuously at the air behind her, like that of an irritated cat, and the look on her face was half disbelief, half disgust. But as worrisome as all that was, I was more concerned by the fact that she’d started sweating.

Although extreme temperature had little effect on me personally, I could still tell that the air was fairly cold, what with us being up so high. Flying wasn’t very physically demanding, so I wasn’t sure what could possibly be causing Abigail to sweat so heavily—or why it seemed to be getting worse by the second.

“If you… can’t… be honest… with me,” Abigail panted, her composure, at last, beginning to drop, “then I… can’t… help you. I quit.” Saying so, she closed her wings and began to drop down towards the ground below.

My hand unconsciously reached out toward where Abigail had been, before dropping back down to my side. Angling myself perpendicular to the tower, I stared after her retreating form. I wanted to say something, to call after her, but no words were coming out. I wanted to go after her, to beg her to reconsider, but what could I possibly say? Indeed, she had made this decision based purely on what I’d said so far. Unless I was willing to come clean and speak the truth, I couldn’t see Abigail changing her mind. Which meant that I could do nothing but let her go.

“It’s for the best,” I told myself, trying to ignore the piercing pain in my chest. “She would have come to hate me eventually, anyway….” Why had I been so scared of the idea? When I thought about it rationally, her eventual hatred truly was a foregone conclusion. After all, I intended to abandon my people to the Heroine and flee into the sunset. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d ever actually liked me to begin with. No one did. Not after everything I’d done. Abigail had simply been willing to tolerate me, for a time, in return for compensation. Now she wasn’t. It was best to face that fact head-on.

It wasn’t as if I hadn’t gotten my money’s worth, either. Abigail had taught me enough about Solla’s cooking implements to manage on my own. I could learn to sew under the guise of trying to be more ladylike, or some such, and I could probably figure out laundry once I was by myself, so it wasn’t as if I needed her for any of that. Really, it was for the best that we made a clean break here, before I grew even more attached.

Far below me, Abigail spread her wings wide, bringing herself to a halt. She was somewhere in the vicinity of the sixtieth floor, likely in front of a window room, and I could only imagine that she intended to let me pass before heading back up again. The mere fact that she’d descended at all, when her home lay above, spoke volumes about how determined she’d been to put as much distance between us as possible with what little magic power she had left at her disposal.

Well, no matter. I would honor her decision and fly past the window when I reached it. I would not follow her. I would wash my hands of her. Or rather, she had already washed her hands of me.

That is what I told myself, at least. But then Abigail suddenly began to fall anew. She reached out and snagged a hold of the window’s ledge, momentarily halting her descent, only to lose her grip when the remainder of her body slammed into the wall. Abigail was once again heading towards the ground, tumbling end over end.

My mind almost went blank. Abigail… the nearest thing I had to a companion. The one who was so close to figuring out my secret I could cry. The one who chose to leave me. I was so lost in my torrential emotions that I simply couldn’t process this new event. Yet, even as my brain threatened to shut down, a single thought jolted through my consciousness, breaking me free from my stupor. “I’m the only one who can save her.”

Numerous times in the past, I had allowed myself to fall while flying. It was generally accepted as the easiest method for reaching the lower floors. The fall itself obviously took no magic power and, since it was laughably simple for a flier to stop her fall, there was little to no risk associated with it so long as you had at least a little magic to spare. But the easiest method was not necessarily the fastest. If one truly wished to get somewhere in a hurry, and wasn’t afraid of crashing into the ground, there was a way to descend with far more speed.

Turning about, I pointed my head toward the ground and began to beat my wings with as much force as I could muster. At the same time, I pictured a cone of condensed air in my mind; one that would move with me, and help me to cut through the sky. Magic spread out from my body, lacing through the atmosphere and making my mental image a reality. My speed increased dramatically and in an instant I had overshot my goal. That was fine, though; I could use that to my advantage.

Dropping my initial spell, I began to cast another, creating an unnaturally strong updraft beneath me. I flapped my wings, forcing myself to halt, and used the wind to right myself just a little bit more quickly. Hovering in place, I let the conjured gust die down before recreating it a few inches above me, even stronger than before. The gale caught at Abigail’s falling form, slowing her descent enough that I could safely snatch her from the air and pull her tight against my chest. She was limp in my arms, her eyes closed, and I felt myself beginning to panic. I fought to restrain my terror, fearing what my strength might do to her if I lost my self-control, and pressed my ear against her chest. Relief flooded through me when I heard the steady beating of her heart. It was followed by a wave of misery as I realized the cause of her fall.

“Were you really so determined to get away from me that you’d use up your entire supply of magic?” I whispered, not wanting to believe it. “Am I truly that terrible?” It hurt my heart anew to know that the answer was yes; the undeniable proof of it was lying in my arms.

I decided to shelve my pain and flew toward the nearest window, ashamed for thinking only of myself when Abigail was in this state. Entering the window room, I laid my maid upon the couch that lay within before mentally apologizing for the upcoming invasion of her privacy, taking one of her slender hands in mine. I channeled my magic through her, and as it infused her form a detailed map of her anatomy began to flow into my mind. I suddenly knew everything about her constitution, from the small dot-like birthmark on her lower back to the state of her organs. I could even detect the electricity running through her nervous system. Though there was something else, as well—a type of energy I couldn’t quite get a read on. Perhaps it had something to do with her nature as a true demon? Because whatever it was, she seemed to be storing quite a bit of it… It didn’t seem to be causing her harm, however, so for the time being I filed away the information and moved on. So far as I could tell there was nothing actually wrong with Abigail other than a serious case of magic depletion. She would likely remain unconscious until her reservoir was completely filled.

Well, if Abigail was simply out of magic, then the obvious solution was to impart some of mine to her. I wasn’t at all certain what the proper procedure for that was, but if I simply continued channeling it into her perhaps she would absorb some of it as her own? 

My theory turned out to be correct. It was incredibly inefficient, akin to trying to soak a water-resistant cloth by pouring more and more water upon it. The vast majority of my magic slid off her body and dissipated into the air, but some of it was trickling into her. There were undoubtedly better methods for treating magic depletion, but I did not know them, so all I could do was persevere. The minutes ticked by slowly without my treatment showing any obvious effect, but my patience was eventually rewarded when Abigail’s eyes, at long last, fluttered open.

“Are you alright?”

“I… I was….” Abigail’s eyes traced a line across the ceiling and down to the window, taking in her surroundings before coming to rest upon me. “You… you saved me?” she whispered, disbelief clear in her voice. “You healed me? How? I’ve never even heard of a treatment for magic depletion….”

Surprise flickered through me at her words, but faded quickly as I stared into her eyes. Even though I couldn't distinguish her pupils, I was absolutely sure they were focused on mine.

“Who are you?” she asked, again.

“I am Devilla Satanne,” I intoned with as much gravitas as I could muster. “The Demon Queen. And your employer.”

“…I quit though….” Abigail sounded numb. Perhaps that was to be expected, but hearing her speak in such a tone only hardened my resolve.

“You can quit once we’ve returned to the upper floors. I will not accept your resignation until then.”

I presumed Abigail would object, but she didn’t say a word. Instead she gave a slow, unsteady nod, furrowing her brow. Despite the movement, her eyes never stopped staring into mine.

“...In any case, we’ve arrived!” I announced, trying to hide my discomfort with her scrutinizing gaze. The number ‘40’ was drawn in golden paint above the nearby window. “You are free to stay here if you wish. I’ll take you to your home floor when I’m finished. …Or I can call someone else to do it, if you’d prefer.”

“I’ll go with you.” Abigail’s voice was quiet, but firm. I nodded in assent, trying to maintain my composure despite my surprise. She merely didn’t wish to be left alone after a near-death incident. That’s all it was. That was the only thing it could be. I forcefully extinguished the irrational flicker of hope, the insidious whisper which claimed she might simply wish to remain by my side, and turned to walk out of the window room.

On the other side of the door was a small square platform, attached to the wall. It was connected to a narrow staircase that wound its way around the interior tower wall, allowing the flightless to climb from the thirty-first floor to the fortieth. Doing so was easier said than done, though. The staircase was barely three feet wide, after all, and while the floors were labeled ‘thirty-one’ and ‘forty’ there were no actual floors to divide them. If you fell from any point, you wouldn’t stop until you hit the very bottom.

In the center of a vast open space there was a single, massive, iron-plated column that stretched from floor to ceiling. Perches were attached to it at various points; they acted as roosts for the resident harpies. Where the floor of the fortieth floor would normally be, there was instead a large circular platform extending out from the column. The landing upon which I stood, which marked the end of the staircase, was connected to the relatively wide platform by a long wooden bridge. Another, just like it, extended from there to more stairs on the other side. Whether walking up the steps or moving across the bridges, the ground beneath your feet would never measure more than four feet in width.

All of this was part of what we referred to as ‘The Battle Path,’ an extremely restricted route that clung to the perimeter of the tower, connecting its front door to my own throne room while circumventing the civilian-oriented sections of the tower. According to legend, the path had been designed by Luci herself, back when she’d first created the Tower. Any army that tried to pour through our gates would find themselves being whittled away, the advantage of numbers lost in the tight corridors. Even better, those gates were the only viable port of entry for human invaders; the next-lowest entrance was ten floors up the Tower.

Though the route was extremely useful from a defensive standpoint, it was almost never used by the Tower’s inhabitants, who would either fly between floors or take the internal stairs. It was impossible to avoid when visiting Mifa and her harpies, though. In fact, other than The Battle Path, Mifa’s territory didn’t directly connect to the rest of the Tower at all. Demons who wished to travel straight from the twenty-ninth floor to the forty-first on foot had to do so via a hidden staircase, located within the hollow central column. To reach the harpies’ home, meanwhile, your only choices were to take The Battle Path or fly. That, combined with the lack of standing space, made it quite clear that this area had been designed with only a single type of monster girl in mind.

Mifa, the one who oversaw this massive airspace, was currently sitting on a perch that looked somewhat like a gymnast’s high bar, rooted atop the circular platform. She was, as one might imagine from the word ‘harpy,’ a cross between a woman and a bird, with short, hawk-like legs that connected to a mostly demonoid body at the thigh. In place of hands and arms she had wings, again reminiscent of a hawk’s. Both the wings and her skin were reddish-brown.

Just like in the game, neither Mifa nor those who served under her were wearing a stitch of fabric. Harpies eschewing clothes was nothing new to me, and yet I found myself struggling not to stare.

“Queen Devilla!” Mifa called out, looking up from her preening. “I’m surprised that you’d get off your fat ass to come see me.”

“I was driven by a great and powerful need,” I informed her, not bothering to refute the insult. “I’m sure it will seem quite petty—but you will listen to my request, won’t you?”

“As if I have a choice!” Mifa laughed, rolling her shoulders. The movement caused her breasts to bob and jiggle, momentarily entrancing me despite my efforts to stay focused. Those soft hills, and their darker peaks, were practically begging to be kissed.

What was wrong with me…? While I couldn’t deny having a healthy sex drive, my own fingers had always been enough to satisfy me in the past. Perhaps it had something to do with the night I’d pleasured Abigail? I’d never realized how wonderful it could be to pleasure another, until that point. And yet I, myself, had gone untouched that night. Perhaps I was craving something more reciprocal? 

An image came to me, unbidden, depicting Mifa with her head between my legs. I felt my cheeks warming and mentally cursed my libido, reminding myself that no good could come from such fantasies. I knew full well what Mifa thought of me, as she wasn’t the sort to mince words. Rather, she preferred to pummel people with her honest thoughts. And her ‘honest thoughts’ about me only ever amounted to insults.

Mifa chuckled derisively. “Turning red in the face already, your Majesty? And yet no yelling? You must want something pretty badly if you’re willing to hold back your tantrum.”

“I need a map,” I stated, repressing my annoyance in favor of getting straight to the point. The longer I remained, the more barbs Mifa would fling at me. I wasn’t masochistic enough to extend my stay.

“Are you planning to go somewhere, my Queen? There are a lot of humans out there.”

“I might be inexperienced in combat, but I’m not so weak that I’d fall to a random human,” I scoffed. “So long as I avoid large groups, I should be just fine. Which is why I’m requesting a map that includes human settlements on it.”

“I’m sure you would be,” Mifa agreed, ignoring my request with another shrug. Though I managed to keep my eyes focused on her face, I could still see her tits bobbing in my peripheral vision. “But their so-called Heroine should be almost of age, no? I’d really rather you didn’t instigate an early attack.”

“Agreed. Which is why I’ll ask, again, for a map of the area.” The last thing I needed was Lucy arriving on my doorstep prematurely. Learning laundry on the run was probably doable. I could likely manage well enough just by cleaning my clothes with magic. I’d be in real trouble if I had to flee while my sewing skills were in such a poor state, though. There was no telling when I’d be able to buy more clothes, and whatever I brought with me would be torn to shreds in no time if I was living the rough-and-tumble life of an adventurer.

To my surprise, however, Mifa laughed and shook her head. “Sorry—the only maps I have are over twenty years out of date, and most of them are more devoted to our former settlements than their current ones, besides. You know, all the towns and villages we used to live in, under the open skies? They were quite nice, from what little I remember. Don’t suppose you have any intention of retaking them?”

“Not at this moment,” I grunted through gritted teeth. “At present, I’d rather focus on our utter lack of intelligence, though.”

“Really? I’m pretty curious about that myself—just how dumb are you, my Queen?”

“Dumb enough to put you in charge of reconnaissance, apparently,” I snapped, unable to contain my frustration. The insults were annoying, but understandable; I undoubtedly deserved them and worse, but the blasé attitude she took towards matters this important to the Tower annoyed me. Not that I was in any position to throw stones when it came to incompetence, but I was at least trying to aid my people, even if it was far too little and much too late.

Mifa did not rise to my insult, however, instead regarding me with a cold, level stare. When she finally spoke, she did so slowly, as if she were talking to a child. “My girls can only fly so far before they need to land. Our ability to control wind currents may let us fly with speed, but we can only go so far without rest—we need time to recover our magic power. Time preferably spent in a safe place. Except there are no safe places outside the Tower anymore, your Majesty. Especially not near human territories.”

“I see….” The flames of my ire were doused instantaneously. Mifa’s words made an uncomfortable amount of sense to me, especially after my recent experience with Abigail. The dedicated flyers could probably go further than my maid, but their range would still be limited. They likely wouldn’t have magic to spare for illusions, either. If they tried to scout human territories, they could very well be seen and tracked until they were forced to land.

“...Very well, then. I will settle for an out-of-date map, so long as it shows the continent and our current location. I should be able to make…. Is something the matter?” Mifa was staring at me again.

“I expected you to kick and scream about wanting my girls to do their jobs,” Mifa admitted. “Honestly, it’s a little unnerving to see you act all reasonably. …Well, reasonably for you anyway.”

Abigail nodded in commiseration, causing me to scowl.

“Should I apologize? I can yell a bit if you’d like. Or you can just get me a map and let me be on my way. Then you can speak of how miserable my attempts at being reasonable have made you.”

“Why do you want a map, anyway?” Mifa asked, ignoring my outburst.

I glared at her a moment longer, but all I got in return was a look of mild curiosity. Eventually my anger faded, leaving me emotionally drained and vaguely ashamed of my churlish outburst.

“…I intend to visit the ocean. So long as it is within six… no. So long as it is within five hundred miles of the Tower, I should be able to make it back before nightfall.” Such a distance might have seemed boastful, but I was actually being fairly conservative with my estimate. Unlike a harpy, I could travel without rest, and use magic to accelerate without any concern of running out of power. The only potential issue was my inability to plot a course around populated areas. It was possible that I’d be forced to choose between circumventing human territories or hiding behind an illusion while flying overhead.

Mifa stared at me for a long moment, before bursting into laughter, folding a wing against her stomach and doubling her small body over. It got to the point where I thought she might fall over, but before I could offer a hand she suddenly straightened herself, focusing her golden eyes on mine.

“The ocean, huh? It’s true that you can probably fly faster and longer than anyone here—and you’re in luck, too! The closest coast is a mere three hundred miles away. You won’t even need a map if you keep heading north, but I’ll give you one anyway… so long as you can answer me one thing.”

“Requisitioning a map is well within my royal authority,” I pointed out, my returning irritation causing me to furrow my brow. “But if it’ll get you to cooperate, then very well: I’ll listen.”

“Good girl.” The harpy smiled, showing off serrated teeth. “Now tell me—why the sudden interest in sightseeing?”

“I intend to gather salt. I’ve heard it’s quite delicious.” Abigail stiffened next to me, but she had the good graces to keep her face well-disciplined. I was sure that Mifa noticed, but she didn’t comment on it.

“Salt, is it? I’ve heard good things about the stuff. Though I guess asking you to share wouldn’t do me much good.”

“Since you are going to the trouble of providing a map, I suppose I could present you with some crystals as a reward,” I offered, hoping to move our talk to a quick conclusion. In truth, I fully intended to gather enough salt for the whole tower; it would be possible with the artifact I’d taken from the vault. If anyone questioned my generosity, I would simply tell them that I’d gotten too much by mistake and didn’t want to let it spoil. They’d think me a fool, what with salt having no expiration date, but that was hardly new.

Mifa stroked her chin with a wingtip, mulling things over for a moment, before giving me a nonchalant shrug. “Alright. I get you a map of the continent and you get me salt. Sounds like a fair deal. Shall we seal it with sex?”

It was my turn to stare. “You… want to have sex. With me? Didn’t you once warn someone that a night with me would consign her to a lifetime of feather rot?”

“I believe that was a private conversation, your Majesty. I can’t help but wonder how you found out about it.” She flashed me a grin as if we were co-conspirators in a secret scheme, and my cheeks turned bright red with chagrin for the second time that day. Memories of many bitter nights, pouring over snippets of conversation that had been relayed to me by my Spymaster General, rushed through my head. The populace’s opinion of me was almost universally terrible, and the tiny scraps of positive feedback I’d received had been tossed in favor of focusing on the overwhelming negative. How many nights had I spent like that, reading reports and then burning them in the fireplace, drowning in self-pity when I could have been attempting to improve myself instead?

Mifa studied me for a moment, and then gave a cheerful nod, smiling as if she’d come to a conclusion of some sort. “Well, that was then and this is now. Don’t bother telling me you aren’t interested. I doubt there’s a soul in this room that hasn’t noticed you staring at my tits.”

“And what do you get out of it?” I asked, pointedly ignoring her remark, and crossing my arms. “I get the map. You get salt. That part of our transaction I understand—what do you get from throwing sex into the mix?”

“I’d get to have sex,” Mifa riposted, rolling her eyes. “It’s a pretty pleasurable activity, you know.”

“That…” was completely fair, actually. Intercourse was completely disconnected from pregnancy for demons, and—despite Mifa’s colorful warning about ‘feather rot’—we were essentially immune to illness. With no risk of accidental pregnancies or STDs, sex among demons was viewed as nothing more than a pleasurable activity for consenting adults. We didn’t really need a reason to pursue it, beyond mutual attraction.

“…It’s not as if I’m opposed,” I professed, “but it would be rather rude of me to have sex with you before bringing my companion home.” I doubted I'd return for sex after, either. While it did sound appealing, Mifa’s sudden interest in me was a little unnerving. Besides, while my demonic upbringing told me that sex was hardly a commitment, my human memories had planted a few seeds of doubt within me. This was—arguably—my virginity we were talking about after all, even if demons largely lacked the concept. I’d only ever been on the giving end of the sexual experience, after all.

“I wouldn’t mind, actually,” Abigail admitted, speaking up for the first time since our arrival. “It might actually help if I could absorb some more sexual energy right now….”

I wanted to glare at Abigail for throwing me under the bus—especially since she had plenty of that energy stored up, assuming it was what I’d felt within her before—but the wariness within her voice stopped me. I didn’t know if she’d burnt through her supply in the short time since I’d checked, or if it was merely a matter of craving a good meal, but it was clear that she wasn’t fully recovered yet, no matter how much magic I had imparted.

“Very well,” I conceded. If it meant that I could help Abigail and satisfy my own libido simultaneously, then I would swallow my nerves and face Mifa head-on. “But I will not allow you to bind me in the air. I’m fully aware of your tastes.”

“Really, now? Have you been spying on me, Queen Devilla?” Mifa leaned forward on her perch, causing me to take a nervous step backward. 

“O-of course not! It’s simply that you’re completely indiscreet.” I’d only ever been interested in gossip that pertained to myself, so I at least hadn’t spied on that element of her life; I actually knew her tastes from Tower Conquest. Still, I couldn’t imagine Mifa’s predilections being that much of a secret. Even disregarding her loose-lipped tendencies, the truth was that her territory contained no individual rooms and afforded its residents little privacy.

“Well, wherever you’re getting your information, you seem to have missed a few things,” Mifa divulged. “I only use suspension play for those who can’t fly. I prefer to have sex in midair. If you think you can keep up with me, that is?”

“Hmph. Of course I can.” My fear of heights had apparently been only a temporary side-effect of gaining my past life memories. Or perhaps it had simply been burned away by my recent, rather desperate, dive. Regardless, I was confident that I had the stamina and skill required to keep myself aloft.

“Then join me in the air.” Flapping her wings twice, Mifa vaulted about halfway toward the ceiling.

I manifested my own wings, preparing to fly after her, only to pause as a realization struck. I turned toward Abigail, who’d taken Mifa’s departure as an opportunity to sit down. “Will you even be able to feed at that distance? I’d have thought you’d need to be part of the action, for it to work.”

“It should be fine. Just make sure you get worked up enough.” Abigail’s smile seemed a little strained to me, though whether it was from exhaustion or our earlier discussion I could not say. 

“I do not think that will be a problem.” My pent-up sexual frustrations had me worked up already. If Mifa was willing to provide an outlet, and Abigail was to receive benefits, then I saw no need to hold myself back.

Pushing off against the platform sent me flying into the air after Mifa, a flap of my wings slowing my ascent and bringing me to a halt a few feet away from the harpy general. My feathery limbs moved in sync with hers as we hovered, face to face with one another.

“Who makes the first move?” I asked. As Queen, I had been tutored in the etiquette of many demon species, harpies included. Unfortunately, as I’d long since stopped paying attention to said lessons, that meant very little to me. I had no clue what I was doing.

“That right normally goes to the top. Though if you’re asking, maybe you aren’t suited to the role?”

I didn’t respond verbally; doing so would have played right into Mifa’s talons. Instead, I reached out to grope her chest, letting my fingers curl around the swell of her breast while my thumb brushed lightly over the tip of her dark peak. 

“Hrnn….” A soft noise slipped from Mifa’s lips. She did not allow the pleasure to distract her, though, one of her legs moving quickly, her talons gliding across my skin before finding purchase on my crop top’s open window. One swift tug and my breasts popped out through the open space, nipples already stiff from need.

“It seems the cold is getting to me,” I bluffed, my cheeks reddening once more. I was supposed to be asserting my dominance, and yet she’d already exposed my arousal.

“The cold,” Mifa remarked, flatly. “Right. I’m sure all great and powerful Demon Queens share a weakness for it.” Rolling her eyes, the harpy lowered her lips to meet my breast, letting her hot breath flow over my nipple. As if to betray my feeble excuse, the pink nub stiffened even further under Mifa’s assault.

“You are a vicious tease,” I accused, giving the harpy’s own peak a harsh pinch. She did not make any perceptible response, but I wouldn’t be discouraged so easily. Grabbing hold of Mifa’s waist, I casually tossed her a few feet in the air. My surprise attack was rewarded with an indignant squawk but she recovered quickly, halting her ascent with a few flaps of her wings. From there Mifa moved into a horizontal position, glaring down at me—or rather, glaring down at where I used to be.

“Looking for someone?” I called out from behind her. She was still parallel to the floor, with her stomach pointed downwards. I was flying perpendicular to her, my head positioned right behind her talons. Before she could so much as twist her head about, I grabbed hold of both her bird legs and pulled her thighs apart.

Mifa let out a yelp, then growled. “You’re fast,” she conceded, testing my strength with one of her legs. She had no chance of freeing herself from my grasp, however. With my strength, she could flap her wings with all her might, or even tuck them in and drop like a stone, and it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. “Your technique is a little sloppy, but it’s not bad. I'll admit that you caught me off guard—but what happens now?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I teased, kissing her inner thigh before nipping it. I’d only had sex once in this lifetime, but I thought I’d done at least a passable job of it. With Mifa’s glistening slit before me, I couldn’t help but lick my lips at the thought of a repeat performance. “I’m going to make you cum your brains out.”

“Not a bad idea,” the harpy replied, with a smirk. “I think I’ll steal it for myself!” 

She tucked in her wings. Her weight, as expected, wasn’t nearly enough to make me drop her—but while my grip on her ankles remained secure, her sex was no longer in front of my lips. In fact, her head was now poised right in front of my thighs.

I considered letting Mifa drop after all. She’d catch herself long before she reached the floor; I was sure she had the magic power to spare. I was, but… the image of Abigail falling toward the ground kept running through my mind. I hesitated; Mifa didn’t. Using the tip of her wings to brush aside my skirt, her head darted forward to nip at my black panties. I was forced to spread my legs, stretching the fabric of my underwear in an attempt to stop Mifa from tugging the article of cloth off entirely.

“What did you say you were going to do to me?” she teased. “Make me cum my brains out? Well, let’s see if you have any brains to lose, your Majesty!”

Her lips were coming closer and closer to me. I was about to be touched, sexually, for the first time in this lifetime. The first time ever as a woman. It was incredibly exciting… but still, I couldn’t let myself lose.

Flapping my wings, I tilted my body away from Mifa’s lips’ movements just before they could touch my wet slit. Not waiting for her to protest, I moved my body into a horizontal position so that I was perpendicular to her once again, and then started to lift Mifa’s legs. Since she was already hanging upside down, she wouldn’t be able to simply drop out of my grip again. I was going to get the first lick.

Suddenly, something struck me in the ribs, the impact causing me to spin about, allowing Mifa to twist herself out of my grasp. I righted myself, and glared at the unwelcome intruder—a sparrow harpy, even smaller than Mifa, chortling in the face of my anger.

“I thought this was just between us,” I protested, turning my glower back to Mifa. 

“I never said that. You’re free to bring your little succubus maid into the fight, if you’d like—though I doubt she’ll hold a candle to a hundred harpies.”

I glowered at Mifa, not saying a word. There was no way I was bringing Abigail into the air after that earlier debacle, but even I might be in trouble if I had to face not only Mifa but a hundred of her underlings, all by myself. It was possible that I could take them all in a fight and win, but I definitely couldn’t manage that and have mindblowing sex with my General at the same time.

“That’s the Queen I’m used to! Pouting because she can’t have her way. It’s almost a relief. You’ve been acting so differently, I was starting to wonder if you were secretly a mimic girl or something.”

“...I don’t know what you’re on about. I’m the same selfish girl I’ve always been.”

“If you say so, your Majesty, but I can tell something’s changed. Is it the maid? She makes you want to, what, ‘be a better person’?”

I glared at her. This was getting dangerous. I no longer cared who got the first lick in. I just wanted to have sex and get out of there, before I had yet another potential breach of my secrets.

“No,” Mifa mused, her wide grin showing off her teeth. “You, in love with a commoner? Even if it was true, you’d never admit it—hell, you’d probably protest it all the more. It has to be something else…. The Rite? I’ve heard Queens often change their behavior after taking it, but this seems like a bit much. It’s almost as if you’ve become a completely different person.”

“Enough of this!” I moved to grab at her arms, but she ducked beneath my grip.

“Oh, have I touched a nerve? Change is a good thing, you know. Especially when it comes to spoiled brats.”

“I have not changed,” I insisted. “I am the same as I have always been!” I reached out with both hands this time, intending to snatch her from the air, only for her to fly above me. I looked up to scowl at her, moving to follow, but the moment I started to ascend she folded her wings and dropped toward the floor.

“Stop running away!” I snapped, turning about in midair. With my head pointed toward the ground, I cut off the magic to my wings so that I would fall after her. 

Except I didn’t fall. Two of the larger harpies had grabbed ahold of me, each taking one of my thighs. They were languidly flapping their wings to keep me aloft but unmoving.

It would have been child’s play to pull away of course, but doing so without accidentally slamming them into anything was another matter. From the look Mifa was giving me, she knew it too.

“It seems you aren’t as selfish as you make yourself out to be, Queen Devilla,” Mifa observed, casually flying up to me. My panties were being pinned in place around my thighs by the harpies, and my skirt had fallen down toward my waist thanks to the new angle. Not only had I exposed my true nature to her, but my pussy as well.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I fibbed. I couldn’t admit that I had changed, or that I wanted to be a better person. Even if Mifa believed me, it wouldn’t do my people any good. They still needed to rebel against me, or they’d never be able to make peace!

“I’m sure you don’t,” Mifa replied, her tone dry. One of her legs stretched forward, the talon ever so delicately pinching at my nipple. It elicited a little whimper of pain, but surprisingly it actually felt… good? So far as I knew, Jacob had lacked any such kinks, meaning that the reaction was entirely native to my current self. It was an unexpected discovery, but it didn’t seem like Mifa would give me any time to dwell on it.

“Well, to the victor goes the spoils… or the spoiled, as the case may be.” Soft lips pressed against my inner folds. A tongue pressed into my core, pushing against the outer edge of my opening for a moment before unceremoniously starting to work its way inside. It didn’t feel like a human tongue; it was velvety and soft, a little too narrow at the end, and very long, like it was built for digging into holes.

The tongue worked its way deep inside of me, pulling soft moans from within me, then slowly drew out again. It flicked against my clit, the tip of it teasing against my hood, before curling about the button with shocking dexterity. Then it was back inside my pussy, working its way in deep again. Though I’d always heard that human women didn’t have too many nerves within their inner channel, I could somehow feel every inch of that tongue as it wriggled inside me. It was going deeper with each second, and I knew from my own explorations that it would soon reach a special spot.

But then Mifa’s tongue pulled back. Slowly, inexorably, it moved further and further away from that bundle of nerves. I let out a whimper of need, mixed with a hint of irritation, but there was nothing for it. I couldn’t force her to touch me, after all.

“You could beg for it,” one of the harpies clutching me pointed out, as if reading my mind.

I glared up at her naked form, trying not to focus on the way her breasts were swaying in the air above me. I wasn’t going to beg. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. There were too many people watching, and I was the Demon Queen.

“Be nice to her, girls,” Mifa ordered, withdrawing her tongue entirely. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think she’s actually making progress as a demonic being.”

Before I could respond, her tongue had darted inside me again. Its movements forced a moan from my lips, stifling any chance I had of protesting. Her tongue worked deep within me, closer and closer to my G-spot. I was hoping she would touch it this time, but even if she didn’t I doubted I would last much longer. There was a warmth building up inside me, a pressure that was pushing me closer and closer to the edge. The sensations were completely different than anything I’d ever experienced. It didn’t match up at all with Jacob’s pre-orgasm experiences, and it felt rather different from the times I’d touched myself as well. Despite that, I knew without a doubt that I was close to cumming.

Too soon, the tongue darted back. I gnashed my teeth, as the precipice I was so close to receded back into the distance. Yet despite my vexation I refused to say a word, afraid that Mifa would only use the information to tease me more. I could only hope she would do what needed to be done.

Mifa, too, chose to keep quiet this time. Barely teasing her tongue against my clit, she sent sparks through my entire being, pushing me toward the orgasm she had so cruelly denied me a moment before. Her tongue lifted from my nub and dove inside me once again, sliding up and down the wet channel before stopping once again. I was so close to cumming I wanted to scream! All it would take was me squirming against that tongue, but if I started wriggling about now I’d end up smashing the harpies into each other. There was nothing I could do but wait.

Without warning, Mifa shoved her tongue back inside me, deeper than before. I felt it brush against something inside me, a special bundle of nerves that had never been touched by anything but my own fingers and magic. Pleasure radiated from the point of contact, threatening to shove me off the cliffs of pleasure and into the depths of orgasm. I was standing right at the edge; whether Mifa kept her tongue in place, or pulled it back along those nerves, there was no way this could end other than me cumming.

I hesitated though, resisting the urge to embrace what was coming. In the gender-bending stories I’d read as Jacob, the first time a former guy came as a girl was always important, often life-changing. This wasn’t technically my first orgasm as a woman, and I already identified as a girl, so I wasn’t sure that it would matter much if it was, but… still. This was my first time being brought to orgasm by another woman, and the thought that this might irrevocably change me in some way kept me tethered to the edge. 

Then the claws around my thighs tightened, sharp pain shooting through my legs. At the same time, I felt the tongue’s tip teasing my G-spot. The mix of pleasure and pain made the heat swell within me, breaking my self-restraint and sending rapturous ecstasy burning through me. I screamed, grinding my thighs about the tongue. As predicted, my instinctive response slammed the harpies against each other, causing them to finally drop me. I was only distantly aware of my fall, though, my screams echoing through the halls as pleasure tore through my being.

When I came to, the harpies were holding me again. They didn’t appear to be too beat up, in spite of the rough treatment. Then again, I wasn’t exactly showing any injuries either. There was no blood where the harpies had grabbed me despite the fact that stopping my fall would have likely required them to hold on with all their might. I could only guess that I was fairly hard to injure; the pain I’d felt earlier had probably been due to the situation increasing my sensitivity, rather than any actual damage being inflicted on my body. Still, it had been a delightful experience.

“I can handle it myself from here,” I promised the bird-women. They exchanged glances with one another, then released me, allowing me to turn myself back upright. After taking a moment to pull up my panties, I gave my wings a quick flap and flew up to the platform. A few moments later Mifa flew up after me to land upon her perch.

Abigail was lying down upon the wooden platform, her eyes half-closed, her skirt and underwear both pushed down around her ankles. Her fingers were wet and a satisfied smile graced her lips. It seemed she’d been able to successfully feed.

“Well, that was certainly enlightening,” Mifa remarked. “But I suppose you’ll be wanting your map….” A new harpy flew up to Mifa, holding out a rolled piece of parchment. Mifa took it in one claw, before holding it out to me in turn. “May the Fallen One’s grace be upon you. And don’t forget your promise—I’ll be wanting salt.”

“You’ll get it,” I promised, taking the map and putting it in my pouch. “But for now, I fear I must get this one somewhere she can rest safely.”

“My, someone’s certainly concerned about the wellbeing of her friends,” Mifa said, a small smile on her lips.

I chose not to comment, instead leaning down to pick up Abigail in the now familiar princess carry. From there, I flew toward the window.

“Do come back, sometime!” Mifa called after me.

I ignored her, heading out the window and toward the top of the Tower. After reaching the hundred-and-first floor, I flew through the window and carried Abigail through the halls to my bedroom, carefully laying her down upon my bed. She seemed quite tired out, her eyes closed and a peaceful expression on her face. I was glad to see it. Even if I might never get to view it again.

I turned to head back out the door, trusting that Abigail could see herself out once she was sufficiently recovered, but before I made it more than a foot a hand reached out to grab my shirt.

“Your boobs are still hanging out,” Abigail murmured, her sleepy eyes blinking out of sync.

“...So they are.” I carefully turned my boob door back into a window, a small smile playing at the corner of my lips. “Thank you. For taking care of me so far.”

“…It doesn’t have to be over,” Abigail whispered, softly. “You could tell me the truth.”

I hesitated. Truthfully, I wanted to tell her. Having a confidant sounded… nice. But even if she didn’t tell anyone that I’d messed up the Rite, and even if she accepted that I had knowledge of a past life, which in turn had given me knowledge of this world via a porn game—could she accept that my past self had been human? That I had, once upon a lifetime, been a man of all things? I didn’t know that I could stand to see the look on her face if she found out. If I was going to lose her companionship regardless, wasn’t it better to choose the route where I couldn’t be betrayed? Where she hated me the least amount possible?

Yet if there was even a chance that she would stay by my side….

“We’ll talk when I get back,” I said at last. I was only delaying the inevitable. Whatever decision I made, it would all end the same. Even if she accepted me, the fact remained that I would eventually be fleeing to live in hiding among humans. There was no future in which we remained like this for good.

I knew that.

But still, for just a little while longer, I wanted to keep her by my side.

“You promise?” Abigail demanded, narrowing her eyes at me as she pushed herself up.

“I promise,” I replied, taking her delicate hand in mine and giving it a small squeeze. Then I let her go, and headed back toward the window room.

It was high time I got my salt.

~~~

Author's Notes

As always, I want to give thanks to my beta readers, including ByteOfBrie, Julx, and Wildfire Darkstar! Also wanna express thanks to paradoxicalWitchling, who edited the original version of chapter 3.

This chapter had quite a few changes - including a reference to the Rite as a possible factor in Devilla's change, after an anonymous beta reader pointed out that it's a bit weird nobody's made that assumption.

The biggest difference, though, has got to be Abigail actually going completely unconscious from magical depletion. In the original, she just kinda went limp, and it's never really answered why she got off so lightly compared to Devilla's 3 days in a coma a couple chapters down the road. Now, that discrepancy has been taken care of! (Also, I think it adds a little foreshadowing to what'll happen later.)

Other than that, it's basically just an improvement in quality. Like normal, I basically rewrote the chapter line by line, leading to slightly different wording in various paragraphs. Then I had my beta readers go through and proof read, as well as give advice/opinions on what might need to shift. I think the end result is pretty good, personally!