“I am a daemonion of the Eighth Pavilion, and I am in no trance,” it sneered. “No connection is severed to my summoner when I draw near those of dragon blood. You are powerless against me.”
Keriya’s stomach twisted. One or more of her assumptions about demons had been wrong. This fiend was intelligent. It spoke fluently in the language of the dragons. Its six eyes were red, not purple, so according to what Kraken had told her it didn’t have the dragons’ magic—the gods’ magic, more accurately—but it was still a powerful enemy.
And she had made the mistake of underestimating it.
It struck, shooting shadowy darts at her. She huddled behind Sethildras and deflected them, but screams behind her indicated the attack had hit people who didn’t have the convenient protection of ancient, magic sw
