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Vire collapsed at the gate of his sorceress’ castle. Bruises, bleedings and all inventory of damage dealt, had sprained his wings, and he wailed like a lame whelp. The rain coldly fell outside the castle. The sorceress Veran hotly expected news of her enemy’s death, pacing by Nayru’s footsteps inside the castle, and pacing by Veran’s footsteps inside Nayru’s mind.

“The boy got passed me,” helplessly thought Vire, “worse! He’s going to come to the castle next!”

He had defense not from Veran but from the guards around the castle. They obliviously stopped only human trespassers who might disturb either the renowned Nayru or her host, the queen. Meanwhile, Vire scaled the walls towards Veran’s turret, easily squeezing, if good not for anything else, in between the grooves in the stone. Successfully gaining his mistress’ open window, Vire rolled over through the threshold, plopped onto the floor, lied on his back, and caught his breath.

At the tips of Nayru’s blue recital flats, Vire helplessly stared upwards like a captive forest fairy.

“Report,” coldly commanded Veran through Nayru’s lips.

Vire’s eyes widened in horror at the pretty mouth that spoke as well as the shadows that puppeteered it from above. He cringed in fear, reporting, “I failed to stop the boy from crossing the Mermaid Cave! I barely escaped with my life to warn you that he’s coming to the castle now in order to-“

Nayru's foot silenced the impertinent throat, gagging Vire, bulging his eyes like toad’s, a creature that concealed a sorry magus beneath the warty skin.

“Your voice sounds suspiciously affrighted for such a safe, cozy, looow,” pressed her throttle, “-alert castle as this.”

She released Vire from the throttle, letting him cough pathetically at her feet.

“Yes!” croaked he, “Yes! I’ll never raise the alarm again!”

“You won’t.”

“Oh Gods,” thought Vire, “she’s going to exile me to Holodrum!”

“Do you think that Onox would accept your service now?”

Vire gulped.

“No. Besides, you don’t deserve a Holodrum summer. Nor do you deserve a disjointed winter to cool you down, nor a fall to wake you up, nor a spring to rest your head!”

“But sorceress!” cried Vire.

“Nayru,” corrected Nayru by her foot atop his throat.

“But Nayru! Twinrova conjured me, not you! You’re not allowed to kill me!”

Veran laughed like a twisted silk garment that unwound at the release of her hand. “You would prefer death over my form of torture,” simpered she, “Do you know how helpless I make people feel when I possess them? No. Nayru begs for freedom from me. She cries out often, calling, ‘Help me! Help me, Chosen One! Save me from Veran’s clutches!’ I’ll even let her see with her own eyes how far her hero stands from saving her.”

Vire, that opportunistic devil, grinned, at last, recognizing a glimmer of control in the situation, “you’re not strong enough to possess me, not without first letting go of the girl!”

“In that case, fluttered Nayru’s fingers, flashing the reds of Veran’s nails by the dark magic, “I’ll have to bring you in here. With us.”

**********

Darkness obscured everything besides the bluish-green of Veran’s naked knee. The sorceress herself glared at eye level towards the tiny winged devil called Vire whose magically-bound wings denied him escape from such a high place as her own knee, which she apparently suspended above nothingness while she sat. She postured herself, flaunting her breasts, seemingly ready to smother the little monster that had infuriated her.

Vire squirmed around but inched no nearer to safety than to the sorceress’ cruel satisfaction. Veran crossed her legs and juxtaposed to her amusement her naked foot behind her captive minion, sizing up the little devil against the exquisite crevices between her toes, contemplating a fresh blood-red coat upon her long toenails.

“Vire, I’m going to give you one more chance,” toyed she, knowing all-too-well how impossible this chance became once Vire had joined Nayru within this prison of shadow. “Go,” continued she, “kill the boy before he reaches the queen and ruins all of our plans, or…”

Swish, swish, wiggled her toes behind Vire. The sound met the pulse of muscular tension that thunderstruck Vire from below, and he turned around in order to piece together her terrible ultimatum.

Fearful, blood drained from his fanged face, pulling his gaze from the sight of her gigantic toes, Vire pleaded, “No, please! Don’t put me there, sorceress! But don’t put me in a fight against that boy again either! He’s got bombs and shooters and seeds and shovels and all kinds of hurtful things!”

In anger, Veran stamped her foot as though she took it out on Nayru’s own skull. Vire bounced in the air and crashed back down in a heap atop Veran’s knee.

“Twinrova,” testily said she, “empowered me to command you. Your sole purpose is obedience.”

“I tried! You told me to kill the boy, and so I tried!”

“So you fail.”

“I did my best!”

“I demand results, not just effort.”

“The results escaped me!”

“So what do you have to show for the effort, besides the given that my enemy has made progress?”

“Nothing! That’s all! That’s everything I have!”

“Then, accept your punishment, minion,” commanded she, “I’m not going to kill you. No, then you don’t learn anything, and I cannot send to Onox an unlearned servant. Instead, let me teach you what it costs to fail me.”

“Mercy!”

But Veran’s gigantic fingers denied Vire the mercy for which he cried. They plucked him from atop her knee in order to deliver him both to her toes, the bluish-green, wiggling monsters, and her blood-red toenails, intimidating little Vire. He tightly squeezed his wings against his body while in between Veran’s toes, frozen expression except for his eyes, helplessly watching her wicked ruby smile.

“Perhaps, you are useful after all,” murmured she, hardly allowing the “s” sound in “useful” to reach Vire’s desperate ears.

She couldn’t help but smile at the helpless creature in her clutches, slowly scrunching him, gradually intensifying her squeezes. Gravity, if it existed in this place, forced Vire deep into her trap, precluding all escape from his torment.

Time, which Veran ruled as long as she possessed Nayru, spread torturously long for her captive. Although Vire lacked a true body here, he retained a mind that felt the pain, and that alone persuaded him that this was all too real. His false wings cracked like toys. His false mouth screamed in increasingly delicious intervals both to the oohing mouth and delighted ears of the sorceress. His false blood dripped down from the crevasse between her wicked toes, down the ball of her foot, dripping along her arch, and splashing into oblivion below her heel.

She finally paused and lifted her leg high above her in order to observe her prisoner. The last things that Vire saw before plummeting into nothingness were that terrible smile across Veran’s lips and that ravenous tongue behind them, uniting in one motion when she licked her lips. She released him with a sticky departure, and no one knew how long he fell before he awoke good as new in Holodrum.

*******************

“Perhaps you will have a different flavor than that other fool…”