‘You fought the netherlings, then,’ Denaos whispered. He glanced at the weapon jammed through its chest. ‘Doesn’t look like it ended well for you.’

‘The faithful can never find joy in the slaughter of lambs,’ the Abysmyth gurgled in reply. ‘Our solemn task was to follow the longfaces here, to blind their prying eyes, to silence their blasphemous questions.’

‘They were searching for something?’

‘It is the nature of the faithless to search. They crave answers from everything but She who gives them. In Mother Deep, there is salvation, child.’ It extended its other arm, far too long for Denaos’ comfort. ‘Approach me. My time ends, my service endures. I can save you. I can deliver you from your agonies.’

Denaos took a step back at the sight of the glistening, choking ooze dripping from its claws. He had seen men die from that ooze, drowned on dry land, committed to a watery grave while their feet still touched sand.

‘I already have a god,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’

‘God? God?’ It roared. The wound in its chest sizzled with acidic green venom, the same sickly sheen that coated the blade. He had seen this, too, and what it did to the demons. ‘You have nothing!Your gods care not for you! They are deaf to your cries! They are deaf to your suffering. To mysuffering.’

The creature looked up above it, to one of the towering, robed monoliths.

‘We remember them. We remember how they were driven to us, uncaring in stone as they are in heaven. The mortals, they prayed to them, while wewere the ones who protected them, who saved them. And now they mock you, child, impassive even as they drain me.’

‘The statues … kill you?’

‘Merely remind us,’ the Abysmyth said, ‘as they will remind you of your own impotence. They take our strength. They take our faithful. It is the way of gods to take.’

‘I don’t know,’ Denaos said. ‘I’ve seen what that poison does to you. You’re as good as dead and you can’t reach me. Seems the Gods are doing fine, as far as I’m concerned.’

‘And do they protect you from the whispers, my child?’

He froze, staring at the demon. As far as he knew, the creatures lacked the ability to smile at all, let alone smugly. But in the darkness, it certainly looked like the thing was trying its damnedest.

‘Do they care that you live in torment? Do they hide your prying eyes from visions of your shame? Do they guard your thoughts against the sins that lurk beneath them?’

‘Shut up,’ Denaos whispered.

‘I speak nothing but the truth. The Sermonic speaks nothing but the truth. Find salvation in her whispers.’

‘Shut up,’ he snarled, taking a step backward.

‘Where will you run, child?’ it croaked. ‘Where will you hide? There is no darkness deeper than your soul’s. She will find you. She will speak to you. You will hear her. You will rejoice.’

He resolved not to listen any further, resolved to remove himself. He was supposed to be running, to be hiding from her. And from her. He took another step backward, sparing only a moment to rub a spiteful glare into the dying demon’s wound. He turned.

She was there. He stared directly into her smile.

Both of them.

‘ Don’t you scream,’ she whispered.

Denaos disobeyed.

His terror echoed through the courtyard, reverberated off every stone, every corpse, ringing clear as a bell. The woman was gone, but the sound persisted. In its wake, a thick silence settled with the mist. The world was quiet.

And he heard the whispers.

Hearyouhearyouhearyou, they emanated in his head, comingcomingcoming …

At the distant edge of the courtyard, he spied a gap in the wall, illuminated by a faint blue light. It pulsed, growing brighter, waxing and waning like an icy heart beating as it grew more vivid, as it drew closer. He held his breath, stared at the light as it came around the gap.

And he beheld the monstrosity from which it emanated.

At first, all he saw was the head: a bulbous, quivering globe of grey flesh tilted upward toward the sky. Black eyes shone like the shrouded, starless void to which they stared. From a glistening brow, a long stalk of flesh snaked, bobbing aimlessly before the creature and terminating in a fleshy sac from which the azure light pulsed.

It glowed mercilessly, refusing to spare him the sight of the creature as it slithered into view. Withered breasts hung from a skeletal rib cage as it pulled the rest of its body — a long, eel-like tail where legs should be — upon thin, emaciated arms.

It wasn’t until it emerged fully from behind the gap, until Denaos could see its face in full that he felt fear. But the moment he beheld it, he was frozen. Beneath the fist-sized eyes, skeletal jaws brimmed with teeth like bent needles. They gaped open, exposing another mouth between them, a pair of soft and womanly lips, full and glistening, twitching, moving.

Whispering.

‘She comes, child,’ the Abysmyth gurgled, its dying voice fast fading. ‘She comes to deliver you … You cannot hide …’

Denaos disagreed.

Perhaps Silf truly did love him enough to send the clouds roiling over the moon to bathe the courtyard in darkness. Perhaps it was dumb luck. Denaos didn’t intend to question it. He flung himself to the earth, finding the thickest corpse in a particularly well-armoured netherling and hunkering down behind her.

He chanced a look, peering up over his cover of flesh and iron, to see the creature, this Sermonic, dragging itself bodily into the courtyard. Its void-like eyes swept the mist as its outer jaws chattered, the sound of teeth clacking against bone heard with every twitch. All the while, the soft and feminine lips pouted behind those jagged teeth, muttering whispers that shifted from formless babble to sharp, honed daggers.

KnowyouarethereKnowyouarethere …

He heard them keenly now, felt them rattle through his being. The urge to scream rose within him; he nearly choked on it. He averted his eyes, but he could not protect his ears, even as he pressed his hands over them.

WhereareyouWhereareyou … comeoutcomeoutcomeout …

He bent low to the ground, felt the blue lantern light sweep over his position and continue past. The creature chattered, clicked its teeth in ire. He heard its claws rake the ground and pull a massive weight across the courtyard.

He dared to look up and saw the creature continue across the ground, winding between corpses, sweeping its light over the mist. Behind it, lights trailed, flashing the same blue glow that emanated from its stalk.

HearyouHearyou … NoisythoughtsNoisyNoisy … KnowyourthoughtsKnowKnow …

The whispers echoed in his mind, felt like sand on his skull. He could feel his brain twitch under them, as though the creature’s claws followed them and plucked at every thought inside his head like harp strings.

Sorrowsorrowsorrow … Hatehatehate …

The creature craned its neck about, its lantern lighting up its inner lips in a morbid smile.

Knivesknives … Darkdarkdark … Screamingscreamingscreaming …

He blinked and the images flashed behind his eyes once more. He saw each whisper painted on his lids, saw the knife coming down and beheld a red blossom.

Bloodbloodblood … soMUCHbloodblood …

He forced his eyes open and saw the creature begin to angle its unwieldy body around with some difficulty. Seeing an opportunity, he crept from one body to another, slinking low through the mist. His dagger remained far from his hand; striking the creature was not on his mind. Escape was.

He spied a rent in the nearby walls. He could make it, he thought; he could slip through it, vanish in the greenery. If the creature didn’t see him now, it certainly wouldn’t in the forest. From there, he could make his way to shore, he could escape.