Rosalyn steadied her breathing as Rhizaid disappeared down the hallway. “I don’t know if I played that right,” she whispered, raising a hand to rub at her eye before hissing at the sparking pain in her palm. “I don’t know if she trusted me at all, but she sure as hell doesn’t now, and I don’t know if that’s good or not...” She closed her eyes.

The chat wasn’t as fast as it had been, and she imagined that she was probably losing people’s interest the more she slept and the stream was just darkness. At least with it this slow, she could read a bit of it. There were no donation messages this time, and she hoped that meant that KC was getting some rest. Part of her wished he was there, encouraging her, the selfish part that was terrified and alone.

When he’d said that he would try to get into the game...it had been hard to do the right thing and tell him not to do it. Not only would it be so nice to have another human being here to team up with...she just wanted him to really see it was real. He’d said he believed her, and at this point, there was no reason not to, he was in her apartment and she didn’t know how long it had been but he knew what she earned in a year and there was no way she would have been able to pay for a production like this on a scale like this. She didn’t know what the graphics looked like coming through the computer window but if her eyeballs were the camera then she imagined there was some serious HD awesomeness happening over there.

It had been hard, but she’d firmed up and told him not to do it. This place was a fucking nightmare. It was better to have her pit crew on the outside, looking in, able to record and scrutinize and, most importantly, not be under threat of torture and death.

Rosalyn tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment, ignoring the viewers that were pretty much just randomly chatting about unrelated things, or quoting old videos.

“I wonder if, when I can get out of here, we can figure out a safe way to play the game this way,” she mused out loud, picking at the bottom hem of the ridiculous satiny outfit she wore. “Like, if we figure out how to get people out, how many of you would want to pop this thing into your computer and see if you could survive? King of Demons could be the next viral Let’s Play that everyone wants to do.” She couldn’t help but chuckle under her breath, a dark horror laugh that held no real mirth. “Could do nominations, like pass it on once you get out. Who do you think I should nominate?”

This wasn’t helping convince anyone this was real, but in that moment, she didn’t care. She needed to get her mind off of the King’s sadistic sneer. She closed her eyes.

binarybitch: KC obvs

tukker7holio: ME I WANT THE GAME

tukker7holio: ROSIE GIVE ME THE GAME

schmippi: A bunch of you guys would be cool, pvp survival speedrun

brekkerninner: wtf speedrun tool we dont even know what the point of the game is

dellic2000: cos its not a game tOoL shes filming

brekkerninner: nah this is some escape room shit

schmippi: escape room pvp

binarybitch: nobody eles is voting KC wins get in ther KC

binarybitch: fuck rosie marry me

dellic2000: stfu thirsty ho

schmippi: id fuck rosie and marrie you

Rosalyn opened her eyes long enough to roll them. “I’d fuck and marry all of you if it meant getting out of here,” she joked, and closed her eyes just in time to see the chat whirl out of control.

A donation message splashed across the screen from KC, Well that sure motivated them, I can’t believe we didn’t think of that before.

Another one immediately followed. DaisyDuchess69: Giiiirl you gonna have your work cut out for you with that kinda promise!

At that, Rosalyn couldn’t help but laugh, this time not so dry, the conversation making her feel a tiny bit less alone.

Another donation message popped up. PreciousPogo: I get to go first, not into sloppy seconds

She scoffed. “Oh, you wish.”

KCxbone: How about whoever gets her out of there first gets to go first?

BriGuyMonster: What if it’s a tie?

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it, bud,” Rosalyn said, but before she could say anymore, a clatter echoed down the hallway, startling her eyes open. “Back on track,” she whispered, turning to peer down the long corridor of cages and sconces. “I heard something.”

There was just enough space between sconces that it grew fairly dark, and she couldn’t spot any movement in the distance, so it must have been in the shadows.

“It was maybe one of the prisoners,” she mused, falling back into monologuing like a glove. “It sounded like something…metallic…” She trailed off when she spotted someone, carrying something long and thin and shiny.

Rosalyn got to her feet, moving to the back of the cage. Was Rhizaid coming back to kill her? No, that couldn’t be it, if she’d wanted to do that she could have just used her bare hands. Why leave and come back with a weapon?

But as the figure drew closer, it was clear it wasn’t her captor. It wasn’t a demon she knew. They stopped a few cages down, abruptly as if they hadn’t meant to, and Rosalyn crept to that side of hers, straining her ears.

“Really?” the demon hissed. “Gotta be kiddin’ me.” There was a groan and a sharp pop, and then she continued walking, a little furry white thing scuttling along behind her.

The marshmallow critter from earlier…what had Rhizi called it, Smeesh? What Rosalyn had originally thought of as dog-like given its almost pomeranian appearance went straight out the window as the puff ball moved, not just on the floor but up the wall as well. She couldn’t see any legs but it moved as if it had lots of them, with the grace of a silverfish.

Her gaze snapped back to the approaching demon, however, realizing that the instrument she carried was more like a crow bar than a knife. She donned the same long black robe that the other servant had worn.

What is going on? Rosalyn didn’t want to hope that this demon was here to help her. She had sprung the marshmallow critter, after all. But all she’d done was offend the other servant, why would they want to help her?

“I’ya try to answer your questions as long as you move with me, we don’t have a lot of time,” the servant said, and popped open the cage as if it were nothing. True to her words, she didn’t wait, simply continuing down the row of cages.

The marshmallow whirled in impatient circles as if to urge speed, and Rosalyn hesitated for a split second before rushing out into the hallway.

“Okay, okay, here we go,” she said, shaking her hands out as she followed the servant, trying to ignore the creepiness of the critter’s movements as it wove up and down the wall. She jogged to catch up, trying to keep her eyeballs on a swivel since she’d never been this way, but also trying not to trip over her own feet in the process. “Where are we going?”

“To the factory,” the servant replied, as if that was any kind of explanation. “Y’need to warn the heir.”

Rosalyn’s head spun. “Wait, what? Warn him?”

“He’s the only demon that can fix Rol’Guul,” the servant continued. “Yer mission is to find the heir, and you gotta do that, but also bring our missive to him.”

“Are you some kind of resistance?” Rosalyn asked, but then waved her hands back and forth in front of her face. “No, that’s not the point, listen, my mission is to bait out the heir so that Zalrimith can get his hands on him. I don’t know if you know Zal or not but he’s bad fucking news. I’m not really in a position to not do what he wants me to.”

The servant took a sharp left, nearly shoving Rosalyn in the process. “Whatever happens after the missive is delivered don’t matter,” she said. “Just gotta geddit to him, then he decides.”

Rosalyn had wanted out of Rhizaid’s cage, and here she was. However... “I don’t like my chances of survival here. If this missive makes my mission a moot point, the heir probably isn’t going to be too thrilled with me, is he?”

“Whatever happens after the missive is delivered don’t matter,” the servant repeated.

“Great. Cool,” Rosalyn muttered. “Don’t shoot the messenger.” She stifled a shriek as Smeesh skittered past her ankle, bobbing and weaving ahead of them in the long, dark corridor. “What is up with this thing?”

“He wants t’go with you,” the demon said, shaking her head. “I wasn’t gonna let him out, but he made a persuasive argument.”

Rosalyn waited for an elaboration, but none came. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this weird critter wanting her company, especially since every living thing she’d come across in this damn world so far had wanted it in some kind of sinister way. “How does it—he—communicate?”

“His soul speaks t’mine,” the servant said, as casual as if they were discussing the weather, as if those words explained anything.

“O...kay.” Rosalyn didn’t think she’d get very far questioning any of that, but it probably wasn’t as important as her immediate future, anyway. “What’s the factory? How am I getting out of here?”

“The only way you’re gonna have a fighting chance is if we get you as far away as we can.” The demon reached a set of heavy-looking double doors, and stopped short, spinning around. “We dunno how hard Mistress Rhizaid will pursue you. Best to be safe and get you as far as quick as we can. Once we get inside, we gotta move fast, and you gotta follow my directions exactly and without questionin’.”

“I have a lot of questions,” Rosalyn replied, raising her palms. “I get that we have to go fast here, but I can’t promise that I’ll follow directions without getting distracted by whatever the fuck is on the other side of that door.”

The demon huffed, jutting out her chin and seeming to chew over this. Rosalyn knew she was playing a dangerous game challenging this woman, especially given that she had been kind enough to spring her from her cage, but she had a tiny bit of leverage in the fact that she wanted something from her.

Delivering whatever this missive was to the heir seemed to be the most important thing to her and whoever the rest of her group was, and if anyone else could have done it, she likely wouldn’t have risked Rhizi’s wrath to release her new pet. She glanced down at the furball next to her. And one of her older ones, too.

“This here’s the bug factory,” the servant finally said. “Mistress Rhizaid adapts creatures to do reconnaissance. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t, but one is gonna leave soon that’ll get you farther away than anyone could easily catch up.”

“Wait, bugs?” Rosalyn blinked, shaking her head. What had Rhizi said to the King, something about having not seen any more bugs? It had sounded like she’d been keeping an eye out for them, not creating them herself.

“Yes, bugs, this’n flies,” the servant said, the words coming out faster now, impatient. “I’ya get you inside it, so you can fly away from here.”

“Fly?” Rosalyn waved her hands back and forth in front of her face. “No, no. You’re not putting me inside a bug and then like, how do I get out? How do I get down? Won’t someone see me when it lands? What if it crashes? No. Fuck no. Thanks for letting me out but I’ll walk.”

The demon lashed out with lightning speed, gripping Rosalyn’s bicep in a crushing grip. Cold dread seeped down the back of her neck. In her confidence at having leverage, she’d somehow forgotten that she was a weak fleshbag in the face of a fucking monster. Despite the fact that this woman was a servant, she was still a demon, and could crush Rosalyn into pulp if she wanted to.

“You will stay quiet, move fast, and get inside that bug,” the demon snarled. “You will deliver the missive to the heir.”

Rosalyn swore the woman’s teeth had grown longer, her cat-eyes flashing.

“Yep,” she stammered. “Yep, I’m gonna do that.” She cursed the hoarse fear in her voice, but there was no point playing proud in this place. How many viewers were watching her shit the bed so hard? Did it even matter anymore? What hadn’t they seen at this point?

“Good.” The demon let go of her, pulling a small and thin object out of a pocket with the other hand. It was about half the length of a golf pencil, and as big around.

Before she could ask if that was what she was supposed to deliver, the servant had her fingers halfway down Rosalyn’s throat. She clawed at the demon’s wrist as she gagged, the sudden intrusion and lack of breath sending panic zinging back and forth along every nerve ending in her body.

Then, the fingers were gone, but the pencil-thing was clearly there, still in her throat, and she gasped and retched. The demon shoved her head back, pushing on her chin and putting pressure on her throat then sliding down, as if to aid a dog with swallowing a pill.

To Rosalyn’s relief and simultaneous rage, it worked, and the finally drew in a sharp breath, having swallowed the foreign object into her gut. “I am so sick of you bastard demons fucking choking me,” she growled through a fit of coughing, struggling not to gag at the odd lingering bitter taste on the back of her tongue. “You’re lucky I didn’t barf all over your face.”

“The missive’s gotta be secure.” The demon grabbed the door handle and pointed a long finger, still glistening with Rosalyn’s saliva. “Follow my directions.”