"Huh... Huh..." Aside from the pittering sounds of dripping liquid, the silence was broken only by my heaving breaths. Half-seen carcasses littered the dank, dusty, and dimly-lit tunnel, features warped into something even more bestial than they had been in life. Though whether or not their last moments could truly be considered life is another matter entirely; at least these ones died cleanly.

Pushing the blood-matted hair from my face, I stride up to the closest abomination, face set in determination. The corpse, something that barely qualified as humanoid in form, threatens whatever sanity I still have left; mouth elongated into a half-formed muzzle full of poorly fitted fangs, claws erupting from tortured flesh, joints ruptured by whatever foul magic had transformed these good men and women into abominations. Everything about the poor creatures screamed magical experimentation, the kind of madness that only the most depraved of warlocks would ever dare to venture in creating mindless but lethal slaves.

"Gods grant you the peace you didn't find in life. I'm sorry for arriving too late." Muttering the rote final prayer of my order once again, I clean my blade of the foul ichor that passed for blood in these creatures. By all rights, they deserve more than a simple and empty prayer, but time is an enemy almost as great as the detestable figure behind this magic. Too many have already fallen victim to Ildraich's heresy for me to grieve over every lost soul, though that truth scourges my heart. Whatever afterlife that waits for him will never be punishment enough, but I doubt any better waits for me, who can only ever come too late to stop him. How the warlock manages to stay ahead of me so consistently is a mystery, but perhaps today will be the end of this long chase.

My eyes fall on the door at the tunnel's end. Horribly blasphemous icons litter the stone portal's surface, and at its center is the personal icon of my quarry, Ildriach Morr - a pair of daggers both stabbing into a beating heart. Would that he had carved out his own instead of pursuing such fouls magics. But if the amount of his beast-bloods is any indication, it seems I've finally caught up to the bastard. My hands clench at the thought, blackish ichor seeping through the gauntlets covering them to pool at my feet.

Not wanting to waste a moment, I charge the door, shoulder braced for impact. Even a warlock of Ildraich's caliber hadn't had the time to ward this sanctum entirely, not that anything less than a fatal spell would stop me at this point. A satisfying crack echoes through the tunnel, reverberating through my bones as the door caves inwards, revealing the gruesome lab I had expected. Stone altars drenched in the black blood of his experiments, shackles for his taken slaves, and arcane apparatuses arranged in mind-boggling fasion: almost the exact same setup as every other sanctum I had hunted Ildriach to, though I can't hold back a gasp at the one very noticeable change this one contained.

A massive throne, formed from black stone shote through with veins of emerald, looms from the very center of the cavernous room, raised up on concentric platforms that elevate the seat several feet into the iron-tinted air. Silken canopies spread out like wings from its back, and gore-stained spikes from its side bespeak a primordial evil nature. But as horrifying as the throne may be, my eyes are directed to the one upon it. Far from the pale-skinned and skeletal figure of Ildraich that I had expected, a true demon has seated themself within the throne.

Heavy hooves twist lazily at my eye level, sometimes scraping the floor with a grating ache to my ears. Powerful legs, entwined with a tail barbed like a scorpion's, are slung over the throne's left arm, while hands ending in purple-painted claws lie draped over the right. Dark skin is exposed all along the demon's form, the only visble covering being a thin robe loosely draped over their torso, though calling it clothing would be an insult to all civilized people. In truth, it was little more than scraps of almost sheer silk that barely hid the heavy breasts and rounded rear of the demon, on top of threatening to expose its womanhood at any moment. The face, unnaturally and terrifying beautiful, turns my way at the sound of splintered stone. Framed by long black hair, with black horns curling up from their temple, the demon's purple eyes visibly glow in the gloom, shrinking back from the meager light of my dying torch. Those eyes seem to float upwards, peering down at me with all the powers of the darkest hells and mocking me with all the savage grace that an elf like me could never hope to attain, not that I would sully my heritage by throwing in with a succubus.

A long silence stretches between us. The succubus, either unthreatened by my presence or merely content to allow me to gaze upon them, remains in their forboding throne, back straight and face impassive but for a slight smirk. An arrogance achievable only by fiends or those who sell their souls to the black-hearted creatures for false promises. In this case, it might be warranted. Due to the room's dark and imposing construction, I cannot get a full measure of the lust devil, but she has to stand a foot or more above me, and nearly twice as large across the shoulders. I've fought succubi before, but never one of this caliber. Their strength is supposed to be from their ability to charm, so to see one who could likely best me in strength of top of that is more than a little disconcerting.

But nothing more than that. My goal is clear - to defeath Ildraich Morr. If this fiend intends to get in my way, they will simply be cut down like the rest. Pointing my sword directly at the succubus, I declare, "Name yourself and your master, fiend! Know that you stand before Vera Dawnseeker, Inquisitor of Morhaine!"

The purple eyes of the succubus brighten, and their husky chuckle sends tingles down my spine. "So impatient, dear. I know you must be nervous, but that's no reason to forget you are the one standing in my presence, not the other way around."

My teeth grind together at the clear provocation. "I gave you an order, devil!"

"How absolutely adorable," the fiend replies. She stretches languidly on the throne, showing off her muscular limbs in a way that manages to be both threat and sensual invitation simultaneously. Wings, like those of a bat, erupt from her back and fan out behind her, drawing in the darkness around us. Oh, great, she's a magic user as well. Full lips pullled up into a lazy smile, she continues, "I'm afraid I cannot acquiesce. After all, royalty does not act upon the commands of their lessers."

I would love to call her bluff, but I doubt there's anyone stupid enough to doubt her claim. Just from her bearing and obvious stature, it's clear she's making no empty claim. Just my luck that Ildraich would manage to team up with a royal succubus.

"Hardly. That detestable man fled your grasp less than half an hour past, though he did beg my aid for a portal. A dozen souls he offered, though I was very displeased at the poor state of his offerings. I intend on teaching him a potent lesson should he ever stumble into my domain again," the succubus says. Did she just read my mind!? "Well, of course I did. For all your mortal hubris, the defenses of your kind are so easily pierced, in more ways than one," she adds, pointing at me with a claw, though the manner again manages a mix of regality and lewdness that I didn't think possible.

Eschewing any further discussion, since it's clear the longer I'm here, the more she could potentially learn of my mission and order for use in whatever diabolical schemes slithering about in her head, I bluntly ask "Forget my demand from earlier then, can you bring me to wherever you sent the warlock?"

"It is customary that, when asking for a favour, one should add 'please' to their request."

Gods above, how could this get any worse? "I will not ask a second time, fiend. If you seek to aid Ildraich by refusing me, I will not hesitate in striking you down where you sit." No matter how beautiful she is. Wait, what does that have to do with anything?

The succubus titters, causing her body to jiggle in very distracting ways, almost as if she can sense this strange attraction in my mind - which, of course, she just said she could. "My dear, please do not take this as an insult, but you could never hope to stand against me. I do not care for, what did you say his name was? Ildark? Regardless, he is inconsequential. I refuse you solely due to your poor manners. If you wish to throw a temper tantrum because of that, by all means, I will thoroughly discipline you in return."

Oh, how I would love to do so. Yet, my target remains Ildraich. Though I have no doubt this fiend will be a greater evil in the end, Morr is the immediate threat to my homeland, and fighting to soothe my ego would accomplish nothing. "I don't have time for this. When next we meet, fiend, it will be your last day in my world."

Just as I reach the doorway, I hear the succubus speak up. "For an elf, you are being quite hasty. Come now, sit with me and enjoy some company. I'll even tell you my name - Lillium Sanguinis, Lady of Lusts, Mistress of Temptation, Duchess of Desire."

"Never heard of you," I tersely reply. When I try to stride through the open doorway though, I feel something like an immense invisible hand close around me. With jarring force, it lifts me into the air, swinging me about and carrying me ever nearer to the fiend, to this conceited creature named Lillium.

A slight pout has crossed her features, but as one might imagine, even that is attractive, making her appear more playful than genuinely hurt or annoyed. "Hm, really? I mean, it has been a few hundred years since I deigned to walk amongst mortals, but surely a Holy Inquisitor like yourself should have some records of my existence. Unless you are illiterate?"

"I can read just fine, thank you. I suppose you're just not as important as you thought, huh?"

Lillium reaches out, tracing my face with one of her long claws. Everywhere she touches burns like fire in my veins, inescapable and all-consuming. Everything in the room begins to dull except for her face, which becomes sharper, clearer, with each passing moment. I've never been one to care for sex beyond the occasional romp with a passing stranger whenever I drink, but now my body screams with the need for some outlet, any way to release this rising lust. Despite my best efforts, my legs squirm in the invisible force holding me, and it's impossible not to notice the dampness quickly spreading through my leather pants.

How could one woman be so perfect in so many ways!? Even if I logically know these aren't my true feelings, merely natural drives amplified by this succubus, it does nothing to calm my nerves. If anything, it's the opposite - no creature has ever been able to influence my iron will to such a degree, so to think it would be a succubus that could do this, inciting a lust for something utterly taboo by the Inquisition's standards, only increases the dark and perverse pleasures that had lain dormant in my mind.

"Hm, so feisty to still be fighting me, hopeless as it is. Yes, I do believe I've come to like you... Vera, was it? A fine name, indeed. I will not directly help you in your fight to hunt down this Ildark, or whatever his name is, of yours, but I do think you would do well to have me accompany you on this journey. If nothing else, it would aid me in understanding this new mortal world, since I've been gone so long. And I can promise you pleasures like you've never dreamed of," Lillium whispers, eyes boring into mine, her lips so close to my own that I can feel her hot, berry-scented breath washing over me.

Summoning all my mental strength, I force out what few words I can. "What's... your cost?"

"Like any fiend, I offer you a bargain," she says. Her claw retracts, and she places that long, slender finger directly against my chin, igniting a wildfire even more intense than before.