Luke turned to face the remaining demon lords. He had sheathed his sword, but something in his gaze forced them back a step. All save Rash'alon. The curse demon smiled, cold and vicious.
"It is just as I foretold," he said, a shadowy sword manifesting in his hand. "The Apostle is weak of mind and body. He cannot be trusted to lead the horde."
"Firemane, I have no quarrel with you," Luke said, ignoring him. "Step aside. Please."
"Do not fear him. He has no power against us. Look at his soul, and his flesh. See how it trembles, consumed by darkness?" Rash'alon said.
Firemane knickered, taking an uneasy step back. Fyren shifted suddenly, giving a shallow dip of his head. Fires ignited across the horse's mane, and he cantered over to Luke. I caught a glimmer of infernal magic, a subtle signal, and Luke seemed to relax, turning back to Rash'alon.
"You would betray us too?" Lord Bloodsteel asked, surprised.
