Asrael turned his fury against his small, round companion as Neda joined Bess and Maribelle out the door to step into a wonderous, unbelievable world. An alley of trees led up the cobbled road leading up to the tall, marbled steps of Gerathar’s mansion, where his many servants had assembled to greet them with low bows and bent knees. Maids, butlers, gardeners, handymen- the people wore all forms of uniforms, all of which entranced Neda with their stylish beauty. In the Blighted Lands; every piece of leather armor was tailored for utility and repaired as they broke- oftentimes handed down through generations upon generations until finally; they would retire to the dust. These clothes were nothing like it. Most of them seemed to inconvenience the servant more than they helped, but she could appreciate the short skirts of some of the women.

At the top of the stair, she saw the man himself; that devilishly handsome, kindly smiling Gerathar bow them welcome. Bess was the first to ascend the stairs- closely followed by the excitable wildling and lastly; Maribelle. A thud on the cobbled pathway signaled the crescendo of Asrael’s fury; namely; the kick launching the small, round man from the carriage. The thin, tall man soon stepped out and grabbed his confused companion by the shoulder to raise him up high and urge him forwards.

Gerathar’s eyes were naturally drawn to Neda’s- drawing her close enough to grab her hand and kiss its soft skin. She hadn’t meant to girlishly giggle, but was helpless to do so as she saw his charming smile and the intense, brown eyes look up at her. “Mistress Neda- how wonderful you decided to join us. Please; breakfast is served- you must all be starving.” This excited Barrel into moving with a previously unseen swiftness, whereas Asrael took the opportunity to demonstratively roll his eyes and curse the man’s perfection.

So very rarely had Neda’s knees shaken with excitement, rather than fear. Her stomach fluttered as if she had eaten rotten bread, her heart pounded in her chest as Gerathar’s gentle hand led her onwards- through the carpeted, marbled halls and finely decorated rooms. Her body had never reacted this way, certainly not while her mind was so joyously filled with wonder and bemusement- a joy that threatened to overcome her as she saw the tall stacks of colorful fruits, white-red-and-brown pastries in all shapes and colors and drinks of all makes and forms. The only person in their procession whose eyes seemed intent on not straying from Gerathar, to take in the wonders of the mansion, was the necromancer. His green irises continued eyeing the suspicious character. At least until he saw it...

Above their finely stocked breakfast table, he saw a monstrously tall painting of a familiar structure- his childhood home, his school, his place of employment... the last place he had ever felt comfortable. The Tower stood tall above the surrounding structures- taller even than the Emperor’s golden palace next to it. At its peak; he could see the observatory’s many lenses capture the distant stars’ rays and gift the astronomers their precious, useless knowledge. The ancient, black, indestructible bricks glistened with the same power that fueled the wall- a gift from the Ancients in the time before the First Emperor.

Gerathar’s voice spoke from the side; “Magnificent, is it not?” Asrael swallowed. Neda had never seen him so thoughtful- so saddened by anything. The necromancer shook his head and scoffed a bitter snort before approaching the table to loom above the little girl. “No.” He answered.

Gerathar- ever the gentleman- dragged the chair out for Neda before unfolding the lavish napkin to lay it in her soft lap, before seating himself at the end of the table. The handsome man motioned for one of the many free seats, only for Asrael to shake his head and reveal his stubbornness once more.

“I did not come here to eat your poisonous sugars. I came here for answers. Your father was an academic, was he not? Did he study at the tower?” As Neda joined her companions in devolving into a bestial, ravenous frenzy; Gerathar nodded.

“Indeed he did. His name was Spechler- a herbologist-”

That explained it. Useless disciplines were and always will be- useless. He waved the man off with another scoff before continuing; “Save me his life story. If he was an academic, he must have noticed the change in the magics. I am told a Rift has opened and I need you to tell me which one.” Neda still had no idea what a Rift was, but had gathered that they were important enough to warrant her chewing the red fruit slower, so she might hear Gerathar’s response. The fine man leaned forwards on his elbows and shook his head. “Your sources are correct. A Rift has been opened, but we are yet to identify which one... as you may imagine; sending emissaries out to research magics can be... difficult... in this time and age.”

Of course he had to be another impotent simpleton idiot. Asrael signaled his dismay and disappointment with a wave of his hand and muttered; “Then you are as useless as the rest of these wretches- save the girl, of course.” Neda brimmed with pride for a moment, until she saw Asrael’s pale hand wave in Bess’ direction, at which point; the desert-dweller's shoulders sunk down. Gerathar raised a hand to stop the eagerly departing necromancer; “Perhaps, if it would help; you may browse some of my father’s books. He has saved quite a few of them on a number of different subjects- please. Allow Amy to show you to my study.” He raised his hand and snapped his finger- immediately springing a servant girl into action. She was, for the lack of a better word; dressed like a sex-worker parading as a maid. The long fishnet stockings, the unsightly short skirt and the low cleavage complimented her long, black hair and the surprisingly stable hat atop it.

Asrael shielded his eyes as she bowed in her master’s direction and either voluntarily or involuntarily flashed herself to him and the little girl. “Please, Amy... lead our good visitor to the library. Have him enjoy our facilities to its fullest extent, will you?” He requested.

He hesitantly accepted the offer and followed after the mute through yet more finely decorated rooms- flaunting the establishment’s obscene wealth until finally, they made it into the man’s library. As much as he hated to admit it... he was awed at the tall bookcases of arcane works- some of which even had the necromancer's name written as its author. The lusty maid remained in place as he wandered through the pews and glanced about the vast collection of knowledge the imbeciles had hoarded.

The girl whispered cautiously; “Sir... do you require anything else of me?” Asrael reared his head and once more suppressed his natural urges of indecency. As any man; he, too, had them. The difference being in the knowing of their functions- useless emotions meant to inspire lust and, in turn, have him breed. But even in the presence of such an impressive pair of breasts and child-carrying hips; he maintained his purity and protected his virginity with a dismissive shake of his hand and a strict uttering of; “Absolutely not. I am not so easily lulled into indecency by your flesh, if that is what you were implying.” She stood to her height and smiled an infuriatingly warm grin towards him.

“I see... well, Sir... If that is all, then, I shall take my flesh and depart. I-if you change your mind, you need only call for me.” Madness- this entire world had befallen into unadulterated madness. He, of all people- prepositioned by yet another harlot. Tempting as it was, he had other priorities- namely; the treasure trove of knowledge surrounding him on all sides required his attention. “Now... let us see if we can find anything on a Satyr...” He mumbled to himself and departed on his quest for wisdom- deeper into the library.

Shortly following finishing their breakfast, Gerathar had the same maid from before show the mother and child up to their room with a promise that some form of work would soon commence. Neda had never eaten as much and it had been years since last Barrel had- as signaled by their wobbling, pained stride as they followed after the handsome man out into a room of white, padded mats and an array of curious weaponry along the far wall. He spun about on his heel graciously and proudly proclaimed; “These are the training halls in which I intend to teach you how to better handle your magic. If we are successful; I hope we can see results by the end of the day, but we must take care not to exhaust you. Your bed is far away, after all.” He smiled slily at her. She had to touch her warm cheeks to verify her blush.

Cautiously, she whispered; “W-will that work? I mean; he usually forces me to keep going until I pass out...” She could see that Gerathar did not agree with his methods, but ever the gentleman; he refused to directly comment on it.

Instead; he smiled and dismissed her earlier teachings with; “Different masters- different styles. Now, please. Sir Berral has already told me of your magic- aeromancy, if I am to understand him correctly?” She nodded shily and allowed him to continue; “From what he tells me, you are attempting to compress the air, yes?” She had no idea what that word meant, but nodded nonetheless. His confident smirk once again made her blush as he raised a finger and wagged it back and forth.

“An admirable goal, but it seems an inefficient way to teach a novice. Compression calls for increasing pressure by drawing in magic from nine directions simultaneously- a worthy end-goal, but for now; let us try something different.”

A few minutes later; she felt like a fool as Barrel waved a gigantic paper fan towards her- blowing her hair in the false wind of his creation. Gerathar paced around her and instructed; “Magic is everywhere- this statement is truer for you than anyone else. Can you feel it in the air around you? The way it touches your cheek and slides off of you?” She had already learned to identify it in the air from Asrael’s instructions- that hidden power that vibrated the same way her flesh did. Closing her eyes; she could even see the wild streams pushing past her and signaled her acknowledgement with a nod.

“Good... now; instead of working against it- work with it. Transfer your will to the stream and hasten it, rather than wrestle it into submission.” Easier said than done, she thought to herself, but set her mind that, before this session would end; she would make some form of progress.

Noon had come and gone and by long, the sun would set outside. The maid had cautiously tapped on her toes around the room and lit the many candles surrounding the red-leather chair around the necromancer- reminding him of a simpler time... oh; the joy of having one of the old man’s sniveling idiots do his bidding in hopes of being selected for his apprenticeship to no avail... then again; if any of them had had her long legs, he might’ve considered it- he shook his head. Something was horribly awry in his mind. Twice in the same day, he had had to do battle with intrusive thoughts of desire- a most unusual happening for one such as he. Dismissing the thought, he clapped the book shut and lay it back down on the chair to rub his face.

There were numerous mentions of Satyrs- all of whom spoke of tricksters hiding beyond the veil of reality, inside the Rifts... but not a one spoke or detailed a rotting, dying demon. Could it be that the creature was naught but a manifestation of his madness? But how, then, had he come across the mark?

A woman’s silky smooth, gentle voice whispered from right behind him. “You are distressed, good Sire... might I ask why?” It was that damnable, prodding maid. He took a step back and nearly fell back into the chair before reorganizing his step to stand with a semblance of stability.

He hurriedly muttered a dismissive; “N-no... I am fine. And I will warn you this once; I do not enjoy having my mind explored by your kind.” Her giggle confirmed it. The girl was a psychomancer, which would explain his intrusive thoughts of her flesh. Curiously; he felt as if he had heard that voice before. As he turned to look at her once more, he was taken aback as he saw her bending down- her head just before his crotch as she reached behind him to retrieve something. The book... She smiled slily up at him as she rose to her height and flipped through the pages.

She whispered with a curious passion as she next spoke; “These are complicated names... Azeraphael, Hugnethlar, Azazeel...” The emphasis she put on the last name made his dead skin crawl. That name- that Demonic name... he had heard it before. He grabbed the book from her hands and quickly read the limited information the author had on the creature;

“The Satyr Lord of the Night Court hath bewitched many a Man. Little is known of him, as most his oaths swear the Holder to silence or amnesia. Of all the Demons, Azazeel is said to be the most curious of them all and it has been hypothesized he uses his hoarded Souls to look into the Void, alas, there is little evidence to back this hypothesis.” Asrael’s hands made the book’s leather crack in signaling his frustration. Was this all there was to know about the creature tormenting him? No- there had to be more. He had a name now, surely; there had to be more information somewhere...

A knock on the door broke him free of his frenzied search of the bookcases. To his surprise; the maid stuck her head through the door to inform him; “The Master wishes to see you, good Sir. You may leave the books and I will find their place in the library.” He dropped the book from his hand and turned around to look to where he had last seen the girl. He could’ve sworn she stood there- smiling at him only a moment before the knocks sounded, but now; she was eyeing him with what appeared to be disgust from the door. “Good Sir?” She continued. He shook his confusion off... perhaps, deep in his thoughts, more time had passed than he intended- surely; there could be no other explanation... unless the wench had molested his mind, of course. Deciding that this was not the time to tempt fate; he mustered back his dignity and took care not to step within her immediate proximity as he returned to the mansion proper.