Brothers, I have unleashed a force on this world long held bound. But I beg on behalf of her your leniency.
We had arrived at what my research had shown to be the resting place of Y'uin, the last of the demon-gods. The inscription on the door, graven in the barbed characters of old, bore the following message:
Here lies one who is left nameless, who crafted a heresy against her kindred and was cast down, bound with chains she will never break.
After bringing the knights to their fullest heat, we advanced. Beyond was a cavern so vast we could only perceive the wall from which we emerged. A balcony extended over the chasm, held up by a vast chain attached to an archway, and in the arch, a figure was suspended. She was beautiful, though her flesh showed every single bone, and her hair draped the ground. She hung, cuffed to rings below and above, turning slowly. Beckon glowed with it's white fire, showing we were indeed in the presence of a great demon. Sir Thornan advanced, the holy blade held ready, until a vast voice split the air. “Strike and I will die a thousand deaths, but I swear I will make you feel every one of them before I rest.”
I called out, into the breathing dark. “Demon, know we have you at our mercy, but know too, that I would speak with you.”
Brothers, forgive my folly, I sought to set right our histories, learn some fragment of the truth hidden by ages.
The demon said she would not aid her executioner, and at that Thornan struck. With a mighty swing he tore her in twain. For a moment there was triumph till the carcass was dragged away into the darkness. A vast hand, newly freed, struck him down, and all his brethren. From the shadows then strode a demon, with scales the color of night and tears smoking in her eyes.
She carried the corpse and set it down before me where I cowered. And she spoke in a voice filled with knives. “You wished to know my heresy, my history. Then listen.
I once played with mortals, as gardener works with plants. I would raise them up in hope, only to dash them to the ground. I was the best there was, till I'ya fell into my hands. I made her promises, shaped her till I could have shattered her with a word… but I didn't. I was cast down for loving a mortal and bound here. She was made a link of my chain, so that I would never struggle, never pull at my fetters.”
From nowhere she drew a shroud as red as blood over the body. Suddenly I had a quill in my hand and this scroll before me. “Set down your records briefly, and tell me where to place them, that my heresy shall see the light of day, that all may know of the love Y'uin bore for I'ya, and the folly of those who slew her. And then I will keep my oath to you.” And so I have penned this account, across from a demon,who might have been a friend, and will be my executioner.