Yaman sat, sharpening their sword. Long, smooth strokes. The stone grinding down the blade.
It was grounding, in a way. The world narrowed down to a single piece of metal.
But of course, things weren’t that simple.
”What are you going to do?” asked the voice in his mind.
Yaman exhaled. ”I don’t know,” they whispered.
”They’re coming. They’re going to try to kill it.”
”They might die. Even if you don't do it, that...thing absolutely can.”
”I know,” said Yaman, pausing in his task.
Yaman put the stone down beside him. “...I know.”
There was silence for a moment. Yaman picked up the stone, feeling it’s soothing weight in their hand for a moment, and kept sharpening the sword.
”You‘re finally probably going to go free today,” said Yaman. “Thats something to be excited about. You should be excited. You should be happy.”
”Why wait?” asked another voice. A familiar one. A horrible one. A blue hand landed on Yaman’s shoulder.
Yaman swallowed his initial startled reaction and turned to look at Shelby. ”Hello, master.”
There was something hungry in the eyes of the ancient fey. “You have something inside you that’s not supposed to be there,” he said with barely-contained delight. She brought her hand up to brush her knuckles against Yaman’s face. Closed their eyes. “Mmmm, it smells of...”
He opened his eyes and grinned. “...ice.”
”Oh, Niran,” whispered the voice in the back of Yaman’s mind.
Shelby cupped Yaman’s cheek in his hand. “Oh, little halfling, what have they done to you?” they cooed. “It hurts, doesn’t it? The frost against your soul.”
“...Yes,“ Yaman admitted.
”It isn’t fair, isn’t it?” Shelby continued. “That its freedom comes at the cost of your life.” She tilted her head. “You don’t want to die, do you, Yaman?”
”Poor little thing. Poor, wretched creature,” said Shelby. The beginnings of a smile quirked at his lips. “I can take this pain from you, if you want.”
”This...parasite,“ continued Shelby. “It would only hurt for a moment. You could be free of it, Yaman.“
”I..” Yaman breathed. He felt...hope. Actual hope in his soul. “...you can do that?”
”Yes,“ Shelby murmured. “It would be easy.“ They let go of his cheek to touch their fingers gently to his forehead, his right hand, his left. “So much pain, gone in a moment.”
“No no no no no no no DON’T LISTEN TO IT!”
”Shut up,” Yaman told the voice in his head. ”It’s my body.”
Shelby smiled. “Indeed,“ he said. “This pain should not be yours to endure, Yaman. What has it done, other than hurt you?” she cupped her hand to his cheek again. “Give me the creature‘s Name, and I will take it from you.”
Yaman took in a sudden breath. He hadn’t realized that he’d stopped breathing. It was that easy?
”What’s the catch?” asked Yaman suspiciously.
“Oh, no catch!” said Shelby genuinely. “My payment would be the daimon itself.”
Yaman actually jumped at the terror in the icy voice.
“YAMAN, DON’T! PLEASE!” The daimon couldn’t breathe, but he was practically hyperventilating. “IT’S DONE THIS BEFORE! I GET IT NOW, THE...THE THING IN ALLISTER, IT MADE IT ITSELF! IT MADE IT OUT OF SOMETHING LIKE ME!”
”Whatever it’s telling you, it’s none of your business,” said Shelby. “It should never have been your business. Why should you be responsible for this creature? It, who has caused you nothing but pain...”
”Please, Yaman, please please please, don’t do it. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I...I’m sorry, just please, PLEASE don’t do this I don’t want to die oh Niran I don’t want to die-“
Yaman stared at the ground. He came to a decision.
”No!” the daimon all but whimpered.
Shelby grinned. “Yes?” they hissed.
Yaman took a deep breath. “It’s name is Sukon.”
Shelby tilted her head. “Sukon,” he whispered contemplatively, trying the word on her tongue.
”Yeah,” said Yaman. “Sukon THIS DICK!”
“What?” two voices exclaimed. Both stunned. One incredulous. The other barely daring to hope.
“Yeah, he’s an ass,” said Yaman. “But he didn't ask to be like this any more than I did. And nothing he’s done is anything close to whatever you’re gonna do to him. So you’re not getting him. Not a chance. Thank you for your offer, but no.”
Yaman turned back to sharpening his sword and hoped his trembling wasn’t too visible.
There was a snarl behind Yaman. He whirled around. Too slow.
Shelby grabbed Yaman by the face, hand covering his mouth and nose, and lifted him off the ground by his head.
”Disgusting, WRETCHED, FILTHY LITTLE HALF-BREED!”
Yaman struggled, but his blows didn’t land. Of course, the deal...He could feel the weight of his armor straining on his neck. A muffled scream tore at his throat.
”I’ll get what I want, even if I have to RIP IT OUT OF YOU WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS.”
Yaman felt choking fear. And then a familiar pain.
He felt, but didn’t feel as his hands, icy claws still growing, reached up and slashed across Shelby‘s face.
The changeling let him go with a howl of pain, hands flying to her face. Yaman felt his body back away, ice steaming on his hands. Felt his face contort in a snarl, felt his voice leaving his throat.
”DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM! DON’T TOUCH HIM!”
Shelby put his hands down. Triplet gashes oozed blood, the edges black with frostbite. For a moment, she looked confused. Then their face relaxed.
”Ah. I made that pact with Yaman. Not you.”
Yaman’s body was in a low crouch, icy tail lashing back and forth. He was growling, low and long.
Shelby straightened up, their face coolly indifferent. “Well. No matter. He will be dead by the time the day is out, one way or another. And then, my little daimon, I will have you.”
