The crowd of demons hissed and screeched and pointed. The crowd parted, and a man came walking down the hall.

Raem narrowed his eyes.

The man is me.

At least, the figure approaching was the man he had been—Raem Seran before the war, clad in bronze, his original limbs still attached. The demons across the hall, from the smallest fluttering insects to the largest lumbering beasts, cowered as the doppelganger walked toward the throne.

Angel hissed and shoved Ishnafel behind her back, protecting her spawn. Raem stared, his tentacle twitching and his claw clattering.

"Who are you, imposter?" he called out.

His doppelganger reached him and smiled thinly. Crow's feet spread out from the green eyes across the tanned skin. Black, coiling strands emanated from the man, and he began to melt, to twist, to change. The smoke spread out, then pulled back inward, coalescing. The man twitched madly, then with a single pulse took a new form. While before the creature had looked like Raem, now it was Issari who stood before him.

It was a mirror image—the large green eyes, the smooth olive-toned skin, the raven braid, the white tunic fringed with gold. Raem couldn't help it. A twinge of sadness stung him, of memory, of love.

You were my youngest child, the purest thing in my world, he thought, staring at his daughter. His old life thudded back into him: the smell of fig and date trees in the courtyards, his palace of blue columns capped with gold, the good and warm sunlight, the whispers of the sea, the love of his family. Of Issari. Of his dearest child.

"Hello, Raem Seran of Eteer," the creature who looked like Issari said. Even her voice was the same—high and pure and musical. "Hello, Father."

Now rage filled Raem, replacing the bittersweet memories. He snarled and raised his lobster claw.

"How dare you take the form of my daughter?" He took a step closer to the imposter. "Show your true form! Reveal and name yourself!"

Smoke rose from the creature and it shifted again. This time it took the form of Prince Sena, a noose around his neck. The eyes bulged out. The tongue hung loosely. The face was gray and bloated with death, rustling with flies.

"Do you like this form better, Raem?" the corpse asked. A centipede fled from its mouth. "This is what happened to your son."

Angel stepped forward. Her feet slammed down, shaking the hall. "Enough of this! Sharael, leave this place. I have forbidden you from entering my hall. Leave now or I will tear out your lying tongue and add it to my throne. Leave now or your bones will crunch between my jaws, and your blood will feed my wedding guests. You are not welcome here, Deceiver."