“Who do you work for?” Ezran demanded when he was able to cut her off in a ravine that had once held a waterway. “Is it for Seryth? Or Ormmoth, the demon inside the Nathsyssn? Speak!”
“How do you know of the Nathsyssn?” she asked instead.
In response, Ezran drew out his holy symbol of the Light. “I am the slayer of the Zilv’natha, the first, and all others that follow if I must! Be you afraid?”
“Grandfather,” said the she-demon with wide eyes, though it wasn’t exactly fear in her voice.
“That is only a title,” Ezran claimed.
Her eyes narrowed as she considered him. “Ormmoth controls the Zilv’natha, though he hasn’t yet fully risen. The blade is still broken, and it remains so as long as Seryth lives.”
“It was still enough to wreak havoc here,” Ezran pointed out.
“And turn many from the path they’d call righteous,” said the she-demon with a sneer.
“Where is the last shard?” Ezran demanded.
“In the heart,” said the she-demon.
“Do you wish to use a truthseeking on me?” she taunted back. “It is no lie.”
Ezran went quiet. Was the she-demon speaking in riddles? What was meant by “in the heart”? “Whose side do you claim?” he asked instead.
The she-demon’s eyes smoldered. “Always the one that allows me to survive.”
“Give me an opening,” said Ezran, “and I will make certain of that.”
“Come with me,” said the she-demon with a nod.