Raem floated through a dream of sounds, lights, and shadows. The creature hovered above him, a beetle of the sky, a god of bone and metal and spinning eyes. Glass lenses moved on copper rods, up and down, forward and back, magnifying and shrinking those peering white eyes. The creature's tongue hung low, and its voice chattered, and always its fingers probed him, hurt him. Fingers of scalpels. Fingers of saws. Fingers of needles. Fingers of spools, the thread around them spinning madly. Beyond this demonic physician spread dark clouds and streams of light, rising and falling suns, nights and days dancing, creaking trees, clouds of pain.

He laughed and bucked, wriggling, trying to rise, to move his limbs. Nothing but stumps. Nothing but pain.

"An abomination." His spittle flew as he laughed. "Look what they did to me. But I still live. I live!"

The insect above him only chattered in its tongue, tools moving in a fury. Dead demons spread around them in the forest, their limbs severed like his own—tentacles, insect legs, claws, strewn around, piled up, leaking. He wondered if his own limbs were among them. He wondered if Laira had swallowed his arms. He wondered if they still moved inside her, grabbing at her innards.

"Stitchmark heal you," the insect buzzed above, its tools dipping and rising, cutting and sewing. "Stitchmark bring back your limbs."

The sun set and rose, the trees moved, rain washed him, and the shadows of a fever dream danced like demons.

Finally in a pale dawn he rose.

He looked down upon his body, then tossed back his head and laughed in the sunlight.

New limbs grew from him. His left leg was that of a great bird, ending with a yellow talon. His right leg was furry and thick, ending with a hoof. His right arm was that of a lobster, its claw clacking. His left arm was now a long, wriggling tentacle.

"You should have used human limbs, Stitchmark!" he said, still laughing, tears flowing down his cheeks.

The demon buzzed and hovered before him. "Human limbs are weak. They rot and fall off. The limbs of demons I gave you, and they made you strong."

Raem took a step. The furry leg moved forward and the hoof pushed into the mud. He took another step. The talon stepped onto grass. He raised his arms, the lobster claw clacking, the tentacle writhing. He was an abomination. He was a demon. He was strong.

"You cannot stop me now, Requiem." His body convulsed with his joy. "You took my arms, Laira. You took my legs, Jeid. You made me so much stronger. I rise greater than ever before! I am Raem Seran, King of the Abyss. The bones of dragons will bedeck my new hall!"

Sweat drenched him and he trembled with weakness. He stumbled toward Stitchmark, climbed onto the creature's armored back, and pointed his tentacle to the south.