Will pulled Windsinger from Zeristal’s stomach. He barely managed to dodge the gout of demon blood that followed it. Some spattered on his shield, burning it’s way through. Will discarded the shield before it got to his armour. “That was a gift from Princess Elena, herself!” he yelled, outraged.

Zeristal laughed, and Will watched as the wound in its belly healed, and its severed hand grew back. “Then perhaps I shall deliver my condolences to her on the loss of her champion,” it growled. “Personally.”

Will and Robert stood on opposite sides of the beast. The three combatants struck out viciously at each other. The two heroes wounded the demon many times, but each time the wounds healed.

Soon, the demon stood before them, whole and uninjured, while the companions each sported dozens of small wounds. Worse, Will’s swordarm was dislocated, and Robert appeared to have lost his left eye.

They prepared for one last desperate attack, when Jaime’s voice rang out. “Stop!” she commanded them. “This fiend is mine!”