Chapter 2

I could not afford to show Malcanthet too much, lest she attempt to copy my methods. She could use my senses, but they were of limited use to her with eyes closed. I could feeling the immense power of the artifact I'd spent three centuries crafting, the Purity Lens, an arm's length in front of me. With quick, certain motions I stripped, tossing everything away - everything I wore and bore carried an enchantment of one sort or another. The succubus queen had made me her spy and conduit, but it was hardly a parasitic arrangement - she'd granted me a tremendous amount of power, power I was loathe to lose, power I meant to keep. Nude and utterly bare of all adornment, eyes still shut close, I approached the lens and touched it, activating its power - Malcanthet strangely silent in my head.

It built up, burning through me, purifying, seamlessly and painlessly cutting away the mystic thread the demon lord had attached to my inner essence, retaining not merely the power she'd granted me, but also making permanent the sacred empowerment provided by the Fountain of Beauty at the Court of Stars, a gift granted us after the service we'd given them in proving our worth and might, showing them that following our lead in waging war against the Prince of Demons would not prove a disastrous and foolish misadventure.

Personal power, however desirable, would not be enough to keep me alive. I needed armies, I needed generals, I needed fear and respect - or my realm would face constant invasions, endless assassination attempts. Without personal power, however, I could not, would not, be able to recruit generals who would gather and command the requisite armies, would not and could not bend Gaping Maw, my abyssal plane, to my will. Alone, despite all my power and experience, I was surely doomed.

Fearful but not hesitating, I opened Tuerny's Flask and drank its contents, hand on the Purity Lens, awakening it as I gulped down the terrible, awful, disgusting remnant of my predecessor, eyes tearing as I fought to keep it inside, as the hum of the lens grew louder, its power flooding through me, rising, rising beyond anything I'd experienced before as the demon lord's essence twisted in my stomach, as unpleasant as what I imagined deadly poison would feel like to mortals and others susceptible to such mundane means of death-dealing.

This was not painless and far from instantaneous. I writhed, always keeping a palm touching the glass by an effort of main will that had my eyes tearing with bloody droplets, as my body shifted and grew, as tentacles burrowed out from beneath my arms, as a double-barbed tail split the skin at the bottom of my spine, as I grew larger and pinkish fingernails lengthened into black claws, teeth growing sharp. It felt like hours of agony as I swelled in size and power, days of endless pain, a rainfall of crimson tears sliding down my cheeks.

It was finally over, and I did not hesitate, looking into the mirrored lens to see my new self. An explosive release of breath, a palpable almost physical sense of relief buoyed me, when I saw that I was far from hideous. I'd always blamed my vanity on nymph blood, and that part of me was not too terribly disappointed.

I stood perhaps twelve feet tall, skin a pale icy white rather than its former healthy peach. My nails were black, lengthened and somewhat pointed, but hardly claws, and most elegant looking. My facial features retained their perfection - or, rather, were almost a full order of magnitude more magnificent, now that the Queen's Kiss and the effects of the Fountain of Beauty were permanent and divine power pounded so much louder in my veins. My figure had likewise not suffered, to say the least. My hair was no longer rich auburn, but rather an admixture of brown, red and blonde, looking as if the sun was shining on me. No longer violet in color, my eyes were a pale sky-blue.

Admittedly, the pair of long white tentacles jutting from my ribcage below the arms, of which I soon proved to have full control, were a jarring note, as was the double-pronged tail, startlingly long and flexible. I recalled the terrible use Demogorgon had made of his natural weapons, and presumed that I was likewise equipped, which was a marvellous outcome indeed. My wings were unchanged, merely larger to match my new size, white feathered and angelic, with a patina of silver on the last row, sharpening them into keen vorpal scythes. Opening my mouth, I saw how very long my tongue was now, noting that the teeth didn't look much different. Of course, there was one other miraculous change, a feeling of immense and glorious power.

I'd achieved my lifelong wish and goal. I was now a true goddess, if a rather minor demigoddess. I could feel my very few true worshippers, the twin archmages, the elven archer, the lizardman warrior, the halfling trickster. They believed in me, truly. It was uplifting, the knowledge that I was a deity, though I knew that it brought with it new dangers, new concerns, an entirely new game, where the currency was worship, religious devotion. I was the Demon Princess of Power, the goddess of ... power? Demons? Daring, success, skill, magic, ambition and immortality? Of sorcery and bloodright of magic?

Magic was where my divine powers lay, I knew immediately, a tremendous increase to my already impressive sorcerous might, but there were other, mightier gods that claimed magic - some of them jealous, all of them stronger, more knowledgeable and more experienced. My mouth dropped open when I felt my stream of thought split, diverging into two distinct and different minds, one contemplating my newly risen divine power, book of faith and the gathering and instructions of priests and worshippers, as the other 'mind' planned my campaign on Gaping Maw. It was disconcerting, and with a flex of my will, there was just one of me back inside my head. However much of a shocking surprise, it was also excellent news, that I'd inherited my predecessor's power to act with twice the speed of anyone else. That I could merge back into one meant that I lacked his vulnerability, the twisted inside conflict that had made Demogorgon's two heads each other's worst enemy, that had brought about his defeat.

Another effort of will allowed me to shapeshift, returning to my old familiar form, which somehow felt a bit cramped. Stretching a bit, finding myself even more flexible than previously, which was saying quite a lot, I went to the pile of items I'd tossed and began to redress, staring with speculation at the semitransparent dome of force that occupied much of the great hall, a permanent magic I'd erected to imprison and hold at bay an adamantium golem, a terribly powerful construct I had not been able to defeat ... which would likely prove a trivial challenge, here and now. Wasteful, I mused, vowing to find a way to bend it to my will as my personal shield guardian. It was the last remnant of the lost and forgotten lich-lord from whom I'd wrested this refuge. He'd left me so much lore, treasure and magic that I actually bore a lingering fondness for him.

I dressed quickly, starting with the golden clit ring, whose enchantment was something that had sent Malcanthet into paroxysms of laughter. Perhaps she was merely jealous, though I rather doubted there was any perversion that one had not already participated in or otherwise experienced. Supple drakescale boots of swiftness, rings of death ward, fire immunity and free action, twisting to put on a sorceress' dress and a vest of protection around the wings, clasping bracers of force roundst wrists, sliding on gloves, fastening belt and adjusting headband just so, tucking away battlewands, scroll-cases and potion vials, finishing with cloak and brooch. Just to make sure, I called forth my rod of battle, Quicksilver, from the gloves of storing, before putting it away and plane shifting back ... home.

The Screaming Jungle was appropriately loud. The Abyss had grasped my wishes and directed me near the battle. Though my transformation had felt interminable, it had actually taken mere minutes. I knew that with Demogorgon's fall, his armies had broken and scattered. I could sense six demon lords in my realm, though with little more than a vague sense of direction, rather than actual location, not quite enough to teleport to their side. Orcus and his legions were hell bent on conquest. Graaz't was probably departing, if temporarily, to bring his armies against me. Those two were going to be a problem. I could also sense the ancient and powerful Dagon, my neighbor, Demogorgon's former ... ally? Of a different breed or race of demon, once rulers of the Abyss, I knew him to be one of the greatest, most ancient and most knowledgeable of fiends. I doubted he would see much use in me ... at least, initially. He, too, was departing - for the present. Abraxas was an unpleasant surprise, and I quickly understood. He sought the treasures of Abysm, Demogorgon's stronghold. I trusted its defenses to hold him ... for a while. The Lady of Night, Nocticula was an unexpected complication, the mistress of shadow demons and patroness of assassins whose carnal exploits were a source of jealousy for Malcanthet herself. Shax, demon lord sadistic torture and bloody murder, was another newcomer, no doubt come looking for blood to sate his twisted appetite.