The tentacle released him, contracting back to its original size. It twitched, dripping blood and mucus. Slyn had to summon all his will not to collapse. Blood dripped through rents in his armor.

Dragons . . . the only creatures Slyn had not faced in battle. The only creatures he knew could defeat him.

"You speak of Requiem." Slyn spat. "The weredragons rule in the west. They do not fly over my lands, over my territory."

Raem raised his eyebrows. "And yet I see the fear in you. At the mere mention of their name, you grow pale. They frighten you, don't they? They are mightier than you. But see, Slyn, son of Heshok . . . I can make you just as mighty."

The demon's tentacle stretched out, and upon it materialized a golden goblet full of green liquid. Slyn grimaced. Small, strange creatures swam in the drink; they looked like maggots with human faces. Their mouths opened and closed, their eyes spun, and their bodies wriggled as they moved around the murky wine.

"Drink," Raem said. "Drink the elixir. My demons can turn you into a wineskin, or they can give you strength . . . strength to slay dragons. Drink, Slyn of Widejaw, and you will destroy Requiem for me. You will rule the north in my name, and all will know of your might."

Slyn thought back to the dragon he had seen from a distance, a great reptile roaring fire. He had sat upon his horse, staring up, craving the reptile's blood but knowing its fire could easily wash over him. He looked back at the demon—the demon that had almost slain him, that had mocked him, that had made him look weak.

He grabbed the goblet.

He guzzled the drink.

The liquid burned through him, hotter than coals. The tiny demons screeched, scuttled inside him, tore at his throat, raced through his innards. He saw their forms crawl through his veins on his arms. He felt them behind his eyeballs. They scurried inside his face, pushing at the skin.

And Slyn screamed.

"Ah . . ." said Raem. "A screamer after all."

Slyn fell to all fours. He tossed back his head and howled. His body twisted, bulged madly, growing larger, growing stronger. The claws tore through his fingertips. The wings burst out from his back. The fur sprouted across him, dank and stinking.

He rose into the air, cackling, roaring with pain, with fury. His fellow Widejaws knelt in awe before him.

"What am I?" Slyn shouted, his voice deeper than before, a rumble that rolled across the hills. Pain and horror pulsed through him. "What do you see? What have I become?"

His warriors only knelt, crying out, bowing, howling, pounding their swords against their armor.

Below him, the demon Raem turned toward the other Widejaws and shouted for them all to hear. "Drink from my elixir!" He held out the goblet. "Come forth, Widejaws, and drink! Let my blessing fill you."

They drank.

They screamed.

They changed.