Demons filled his hall. They clattered across the floor. They clung to the great ribs forming the chamber walls. They hung from the ceiling, dangling sacks of blood. Some creatures were furred, others scaled, some skinless. Some towered in the hall, globs of ooze, bony creatures with horned heads, living trees with branches of fingers. Other demons were small, scuttling underfoot, leaving trails of pus and slime. Some played musical instruments made from bones. Others babbled unintelligibly. A few rutted in puddles, screaming out in their lust. Some fed upon blood and bones, while others fought, tearing one another apart, and feasting upon severed limbs.

"Another!" Raem shouted from his throne.

The demons scurried aside, forming a path between them across the hall, leading from the throne to the tunnel that led into the hall. Two gray, pot-bellied demons framed the entrance. They began to beat drums made from human skin, and across the hall, demons joined the chant, thumping their feet and chests. Eyes lit up in the tunnel, and a demon clattered into the hall, a great isopod the size of a bull. Many tentacles and claws grew from its mouth, the tendrils wrapped around a struggling young man.

"Bring him here!" Raem cried, delight filling him. Good. Good! This would quell the desire.

The isopod clattered forward on its many legs, snorted, and dumped down its captive. The man struggled to rise, only to fall again. Blood dripped from many wounds across him. He was a man of Eteer, perhaps a fisherman, perhaps a farmer, one of the few souls who had stayed in the ravaged city.

Raem stepped toward the wounded wretch.

"Please, my king." The man bowed before Raem. "Please, great lord. Spare my life."

Raem's blood boiled. He stretched out his tentacle—his new left arm—and lifted the man's chin. "Look me in the eyes, my son." His voice was soft, barely containing his glee. "Keep looking into my eyes."

The man stared up, trembling, his eyes rimmed with red. With a sudden jerk, Raem thrust out his right arm—his lobster claw—and grabbed the man's neck.

Just as he squeezed the claw shut, severing the head, the man looked away.

Demons cheered.

"Gods damn it!" Raem shouted and kicked the head aside with his hoof. "Why did the fool disobey?"

As demons leaped onto the body and began to feed, Raem stomped away, moving on his hoof and talon. It was worthless this way. Why even bother to kill a man if he looked away? Killing was the most intimate connection one could make with another living soul. To gaze into the eyes of a man or woman, to take their life as they stared into you, as you stared into them, as you formed a bond just as the life slipped away . . . it was perhaps the only emotion that could quell the fire inside him, the need for the dragon magic.