The dark mountain loomed before the paladin, its gloomy bulk seeming a monument to all he stood to combat and oppose. No life flourished upon its mist-shrouded slopes, not even the lowest of lichens upon its stones. Decay and death were all it offered to the world. Somewhere, the paladin knew, within its labyrinthine heart lay his quest’s discharge.

“Seek the kiss of life’s end beneath the dead stone and set free the lands under mountain’s shadow of its curse.” Those were the words of the oracle he had consulted, and to the paladin, their meaning clear. Too long had the living rock been tainted with the poison of the unearthly seductress laired below it; too many were the dead, her victims, who had sought treasures contained in that darkened spire. Pride was not a knightly quality, the paladin knew, but it would be he who erased this blemish from the lands of good and pure men, and the rewards of honor would be his.

The paladin walked on, his booted feet raising puffs of chalky dust; the land had been thus since he had entered the mountain’s shadow. It dried the mouth, burned the eyes and covered his fine-linked suit of mail with a dull, grimy coat. Yet the paladin felt his inner shining undiminished. Soon the great blade strapped across his back would drink the blood of demonkin and no longer would his be the only light in the land about the mountain.

* * *

Beneath the mountain, within the twisting maze of its core, the succubus watched the paladin’s approach in the surface of an age-blackened mirror. Freedom, freedom as was promised ages past.

“An agent of light will fall and open the path for your release. The world beyond the mountain’s shadow shall pass beneath your wings once again.” So had the priest who imprisoned her here, aeons ago, spoken. Soon she would fly again among the masses of delicious mortality and feed on their passion and life. No longer must she endure the hunger and the ache of need that was only briefly and un-satisfyingly assuaged by the meager vitality of those who thought to plunder her hoard of priceless baubles. To her they were useless except to serve as bait for such, though once they had pleased her, before she had drained the font of life the land under her sway had to offer, so many long ages ago.

She kicked out at a heap of sparkling jewels, her crimson-skinned bare foot scattering them across the floor of the great vault deep within the labyrinth. Their beauty was lost upon her, she who had seen them for centuries. When freedom was hers, the succubus vowed, she would wear jewels of blood, to drink as well as for their shine.

* * *

The cave mouth gaped open, swallowing the track that led into it like a tongue down a throat. At its entrance the paladin paused and drew his sword. Its blade was crystal, inlaid with silver and gleaming gold. It shimmered with a light all its own and its healing purity washed over the bare rock like a cleansing rain. Quartz crystals within the cavern gave back its shine, glimmering in harmony with their greater kin.

“Hear me, creature of darkness, stealer and devourer of what is wholesome and true. Your end has come upon you. No more will you blight this land. Through my deeds this day I shall give it back to those you have taken it from.” The paladin’s pronouncement rang off the sparkling walls, rich and deep. A man lesser in convictions and righteousness would have hoped to sneak in and perhaps catch the demoness unawares. Not he, for he knew it was ordained, that which he had come to do.

The great brand blazing out before him, the paladin strode into the cave, passing between two great pillars of stone that stretched from floor to ceiling, supporting it. He halted just beyond them, turned, and with all the force in his arms and his heart, hewed at them with the sword. Though delicate-seeming as glass, the weapon sheared through the man-wide columns of stone as if through melted wax. The ceiling collapsed, its rocky vault now bereft of fundament. When the chaos of the fall subsided the passage was blocked entirely. The paladin touched the obstruction with his blade.

“None shall pass here but the minions of light.” With that proclamation the paladin turned once again to the depths of the mountain and passed deeper within, seeking that which had drawn him here.

* * *

“Fool!” the succubus laughed, viewing the paladin’s act in her mirror. “When the life that flows in your veins and soul is mine, your warding will have no power to hold me. Until then, why should I wish to flee the purveyor of my means of release? Come to me, my soon-to-be lover. I wait for your touch.”

The demoness stretched her supple, incarnadine form out prone on a luxurious pile of silks and furs, her ebony wings draping her like a cloak. Idly, she wondered how the world had changed during her absence; her visitors usually had little to say as she drained them, their minds ensnared by her irresistible lust. Would her paladin give her some insight before she consumed him? It would not do to emerge uninformed.

She would take her time, she decided, hard though it might be to be patient. She would draw him out, savor every morsel, every drop, and all he could give her; it would be all the sweeter with the wait.

The succubus rolled over on her bed, shivering with anticipation. Her hands and legs made languid grasps at the air. Her paladin would know their hold before too long.

* * *

The paladin did not know how long he had wandered the complex of tunnels and grottos, but he was certain it was well into the night on the surface. His legs were weary from his journey and his armor dragged at him. For now he would rest; though the spirit may be always be willing, the flesh may need respite.

When he next came upon a small cavern, the paladin lay down his sword, propping its four-foot length against a boulder. He seated himself beside it, his back to the same stony sphere. A groan of relief escaped his lips as his sore feet relaxed somewhat. He would have freed them of their confinement within his boots but here, below ground, in the realm of his enemy, he must not be caught unprepared.

He leaned his head back against the rock and his helm clinked against its rough surface. With a sigh, he lifted the heavy visored burgonet off and set it in his lap. Free of the helmet’s stifling confines, his sweaty head cooled and the paladin closed his eyes, savoring the sensation.
His spun-gold hair dried and curled against his face with a touch like a lover’s hands. His cheeks and forehead were stroked with silken caresses, like those bestowed by a maiden upon her beau with tiny, soft, sweet-smelling hands. Hands that were held by graceful wrists and arms, arms that flowed from satin shoulders over a creamy bosom, pale as milk in moonlight. The lips yearned to taste such milk, to savor its sweetness before downing its fulfilling essence.

The paladin could almost feel the presence of the phantom maiden, the slight stirring of air her breath, breathed upon the lips of her beloved before a kiss. A kiss that surely tasted of nectarwine upon the tongue, making that tongue reach for more. To cradle the possessor and bestower of such delights in one’s arms must surely be the earthly equivalent of the joys of heaven, the paladin thought. To feel the soft, yielding shape curving to form against one’s own body, under one’s hands that roved as if with a mind of their own, seeking out the sensitive, hidden dells of delight it held. And those little hands upon oneself, stroking and searching, reaching for...

The paladin jerked awake, breaking out of his reverie, flushed with passion. His breath came in great heaves and the cave spun around him as his head whirled. He had dozed, he supposed, lulled to sleep by the gentle feel of the wind on his face. The dream had seemed so real, it felt as if all he need do was close his eyes and reach out to feel the dream-woman once again.
No, he told himself sternly, this is not the time for boyish daydreams. There was a foe waiting to be vanquished; he must not stray from his duty. Rising, the paladin re-donned his helm and took up his crystalline blade once more. Thus rearmed, he set out upon his search again.

* * *

The succubus trembled as she watched the image on the reflective glass. She could still feel his touch upon her ruby flesh, causing it to heat as if it would burn to match its hue. Her lips and tongue still held the taste of the paladin’s own. She brought up a long-nailed hand to touch her mouth; it felt swollen and the contact against its sensitive surface made her shiver. So close. Her body shuddered with trapped desire. She would have him, would ravish him and be ravished in turn by him until he willingly tendered to her what she craved.

The succubus trailed the nails of her hand down over her chin and the arch of her throat, grazing feather-soft at the hollow at its base, lingeringly. The shapely talon moved lower, over her breasts and the supple plain of her belly, which fluttered under the caress.

No. The demoness stopped her explorations, pulling her hand away. I must be patient, she chided herself mentally. She would let it build, until she could slake her need with her paladin.
For the first time since he had begun his quest the paladin felt his resolve weaken. Indeed, it was the first time since his oaths to serve the call of the light that he had known anything but utter conviction and faith in his purpose. Brigands, giants, and dragons alike had fallen to his mighty blade, and even in the face of the adversity posed by such foes he had not wavered. But now, wandering miles below the lands where the sun shone, tired and footsore, the paladin questioned his duty.

Why had it fallen to him to be the protector of the weak? Did they not have the courage the gods gave men to fight for themselves? But what need have the masses of courage, and valor, when they could hide behind those such as himself, the paladin reasoned bitterly. It was his hand that swung the sword that cut down their enemies; his muscles that felt the pain of blade and claw and club, while the sheep he sacrificed himself for enjoyed the earthly fruits he was denied.

Their beds were of feathers and wool; their heads cushioned with pillows in their warm homes. How many times, the paladin wondered grimly, had he shivered within his cold armor upon the chill ground with naught but stone beneath his head as he slept? The meanest of farmers could, at the end of the workday, seek comfort in the arms of his wife, but not he. Why shouldn’t he, of all folk, be able to enjoy the loving caresses that all other men could receive? These scarred hands should be able to hold the finest of women as reward for their deeds, the tired knight brooded, and this battered body should know the deepest of pleasures, as repayment for its suffering. The maiden he had fantasized before should be real, not merely a wishful figment of the imagination. Who among men deserved the rewards of life’s goodness more than the one who fought to preserve them?

The paladin’s moody reverie was broken as he stumbled over a jagged rocky fragment on the ground. The weight of his own armor combined with his weariness caused him to fall upon one knee, barely maintaining a hold on his gleaming sword. Looking about himself, the paladin was shocked to see that the stone he had stumbled over had come from the heap of debris that blocked off the entrance to the mountain. Somehow, during his musing meandering, he had come back around to where he had started.

It did not bode well, he realized. The evil influence of the succubus must be affecting him more than he had thought. How else to explain his thoughts of earlier? Lust, pride, envy; were these the desires and feelings of one who had dedicated his entire life to purity and beneficence? Surely not. The warrior surged to his feet, his righteous ire aroused.

“Your foul magics will not trick me, demoness!” he cried triumphantly. “Neither they nor you, nor anything your dark heart conceives can shunt aside my purpose! I shall find you in your hole, and when I do, I shall put an end to your wickedness!” With the sound of his shout echoing about him the paladin turned and headed once more into the depths of the earth.

* * *

Clapping her clawed hands with glee, the succubus rose from her bed. Such strength, she marveled, to resist her so. Her subtle castings he shrugged off with an ease she had not expected. Any other mortal would have been to her spells as dough to a baker’s hands. Not so this paladin. His inner light showed all the stronger for her efforts. Never had she had such a challenge.

But, she reasoned, the greatest prizes cannot be won easily. In the end, though, she would triumph and her reward would surpass any pleasure she had ever known, she was sure. It would merely require that she seek out what she desired, rather than wait for it to come to her.
The succubus strode to the center of her cavern and stood with legs planted amidst the splendor of her hoard. Stretching her arms and wings to their widest, she called her power to herself, rising up upon her toes to extend her reach even further.

Energy writhed about the cavern, playing over her ruby flesh and crackling in the midnight mane that hung down behind her to her waist. To an onlooker it would have seemed that her perfection increased, and her already entrancing desirability heightened beyond comprehension.
She would go to her paladin, the demoness decided, and let him see her in her fullest glory. It was thusly she would claim her prize, for not even a paladin could resist her could he but glimpse the total extent of her magnificence. The succubus strode from her hall, seeking her victim.

* * *

This was getting tedious, the paladin decided, as he trod through yet another empty pocket cavern within this warren. Although his resolve held true, now that the succubus’ tricks had been revealed to him, his patience was thinning. How long must he search in vain before what was inevitable came to pass. Sooner or later he would find the she-demon wherever she hid, but what he would give to bring his quest to a close as shortly as he could.

“What, indeed, would you give, noble paladin? I am here, you need search no further.” The paladin spun, his blade blazing with a light to rival the sun. The smoky contralto seemed to come from all about him, and from nowhere.

“Show yourself, seductress, or do you fear that your true form cannot withstand the light of goodness?” the paladin challenged.

“Fear? I think not. Rather, I welcome the light so that your eyes can perceive me fully.” The succubus stepped out from behind a stalagmite that rose up from the floor to twice a man’s height.

Whirling, the paladin charged in her direction, only to be brought up short by the sight. In the light of his glowing weapon she stood, proud and confident. She was fully as tall as he was, with long muscles like an athlete’s beneath skin the color of new blood. Feminine curves of a lushness unimaginable by mere man blended with the succubus’ undisguised strength in a harmony that could not possibly be mortal. Eyes the hue of emeralds in sunlight, slit-pupiled as a cat’s were, regarded the paladin from a face so perfect it brought a hitch of pain to the knight’s throat. No dream lover could ever compare to that which stood before him.

Her voice once again caressed his ears and mind. “Would you slay me? Could you slay me; could you pierce this breast with that burning sword of yours?” she said, placing her hand over her chest. Her movements were fascinating in their fluidity and the paladin drank in the sight as she moved across the rocky floor to where he stood. She stopped just beyond his readied sword, its point only a few hairsbreadths from her flawless bosom.

“Would you not rather claim me as I stand before you, instead of destroying my beauty? I would be yours for the taking, and such pleasures as mortal minds have never dreamed would be yours. You are like no other who has come into these caves, I freely tell you. You would have the strength, I am certain, to survive what none of those others could. I would not be able to dominate you, your power is equal to mine, I can see that now. The rewards you seek would be given to you through what I offer. As well, would it not be the greater deed to gain my service then to merely dispatch me like some lowly goblin? I would serve you, you know?”
The demoness swayed closer and the paladin lowered his blade lest it cut the sanguine skin before it.

His eyes were caught in hers as she moved to press her body against his. He could feel the heat of her through the layers of armor and underpadding he wore and he warmed in response to it. The succubus brought her face close to the entranced paladin’s. Reaching up, she removed the visored helm from his head. The clang it made when she tossed it aside went unnoticed by its owner.

Moving even nearer, the succubus brushed her nose against his cheek, her mouth parting to let her velvety crimson tongue snake out over the paladin’s lips. Gently, the demoness probed the paladin’s mouth for a brief moment then bent her head to his throat. Her lips, softer and warmer than the paladin could believe, pressed against his skin where his pulse beat, sucking. His body shuddered with desire at the sensation and the succubus responded in kind.

With his free hand, the enraptured knight caught at the silky mass of hair on the demoness’ head and brought her mouth back to his. It was the sweetest kiss he had ever known, more nourishing than a king’s feast, more blessed than a breath of mountain air.

The succubus closed her glowing eyes and enfolded the paladin with her wings. Beside them the enchanted crystalline sword burned like a forge. The demoness could feel its heat on her thigh though it did not touch her. As their passionate embrace grew more intense, the succubus sought the paladin’s sword hand with her own. With coaxing, feathery touches she sought to make him release the hilt, careful not to contact the weapon itself. With stubborn slowness his grip began to relax.

“Yesssss,” the succubus hissed with satisfaction. “Let it go. Hold only me. Forever.”
In response, the enspelled knight brought his hand up to stroke her, so enmeshed by the she-demon’s seductive spell that he forgot the weapon he held. As his fingers brushed over the silken curve of her hip, its pommel touched incarnadine flesh. The blazing flare of heat caused both the succubus and the paladin to scream in pain and the spell between them shattered.

With a cry the paladin hurled the beautiful fiend away from him. She tumbled across the uneven cavern floor before rolling smoothly to her feet, hissing with rage. The lambency of her eyes swelled into a harsh green brilliance. Her claws lengthened into lethal hooks and the small ivory fangs in her hissing mouth became killing tusks. Ribbed horns the hue of flame burst upwards from her head, throwing off yellowish fluid, the blood of a demon. When she spoke, her voice was a vibrant, sonorous roar.

“You mortal fool! I offered you the ultimate bliss and you cast it away; now I shall take you however I can. You will perish knowing that you were the key that released me from my bondage to this mountain!” Her laughter pealed like terrible thunder. “You will help me drink the world!”

“Nay, abyss-spawned thing,” the paladin shouted in reply, brandishing his sword in both hands. “I shall free this world of your blight and you will taste naught but your own death!”
The enraged she-demon raised her hands above her and a ball of roiling red energy formed between them. With a deafening howl, she flung it at the defiant knight. Swinging his blade in a golden fan, the paladin deflected the strike aside to burst against the wall of the cave. Another burning globe, and then a third, followed the first fireball thrown by the succubus, only to be batted away by the paladin’s great glowing sword.

Before the demon could attack again the paladin charged, white flame lancing out at her from the knight’s weapon as it swung in an arc towards her. Caught unawares, the succubus desperately threw up her arms, trying to bring up a warding to divert the attack.

The attempt was partly successful; the fire from the paladin’s weapon splattered against an invisible wall but the magical shield gave way under the strike of the blade itself. As she leapt back the demoness felt the burning kiss of the brand’s edge and yellow blood splashed from a rent in her red-skinned forearm. Her scream of pain was deafening, and of such power it rocked the paladin back, stopping his attack.

“Your blood spills like that of your victims!” the paladin taunted. “Never again will you take the lives of the innocent!”

The succubus crouched a dozen feet away from him, cradling her wounded limb. She spat, and a glob of coruscating blue energy shot towards the gloating warrior, who leapt aside to dodge it. It struck his armored shin, however, and burst with a sizzling sound, leaving a ragged, blackened hole in the metal mesh. The paladin was knocked sprawling, but rolled to his feet before the murderous nether-fiend could strike again. He limped on the leg that had been struck as he and the succubus circled, looking for an opening.

Without warning, the succubus pointed a clawed digit at a stalactite overhead. The rocky spike snapped off the ceiling and plummeted towards the paladin, guided by the demoness’ magic.
Sharp-edged crystal arced upwards to meet stone and the latter disintegrated into flying shards. Several chunks struck the red-skinned she-demon, staggering her. A ray of pure light lanced out from the paladin’s sword at her, forcing her to leap upwards to avoid it.

When the stroke of energy burned across the inside of her thigh, the succubus reflexively retaliated in the paladin’s direction, shooting a stream of green darts from one of her blazing orbs. She watched with satisfaction as the attack struck home, knocking her opponent off his feet, until, distracted, she slammed head-first into a stalactite hanging in her path.

Both the stone protrusion and one of her horns snapped off, sending the succubus tumbling to the floor fifteen feet below, stunned and bleeding. The broken stalactite smashed down on top of her, injuring her further. Were it not for her unnatural strength and vitality, it likely would have killed her. Crawling free of the debris, the wounded demoness struggled to rise. Ten feet away, the paladin was shaking off the effects of the magical strike that had felled him.

The wounded knight was the first to reach his feet. Spying his downed foe, he staggered towards her, raising his blade for a killing stroke. Acrid smoke from the half dozen charred holes in his breastplate made him cough and hesitate. The succubus stared up at him, slitted eyes glazing. With fear, no doubt, the paladin thought with satisfaction.

As he began his downstroke, the injured demoness began to glow with a fuzzy aura. The paladin’s weapon sliced through the succubus’ form, biting into the stone beneath but the blow inflicted no damage, for the demon’s body had become misty and insubstantial. Gathering herself into a luminous red cloud specked with emerald motes, the succubus fled the chamber.
Roaring in frustration and dismay, the paladin gave chase down the stony tunnel the gaseous she-fiend had disappeared into.

As his boots pounded the rock in symphony with his jingling mail, he could see the glowing cloud becoming more distant from him. Cursing, the vengeful knight increased his pace. His quarry would not escape him now, he vowed.

* * *

In a desperate haste the succubus blew into her stronghold chamber, changing form to solid as she flew. Immediately she began to search through the vast pile of riches, clawing aside precious stones and exquisitely wrought jewelry with no regard for the damage her steely talons did them.

“Where is the cursed thing?” she demanded. She would need a weapon to aid her in defeating her adversary; her underestimation of his power had nearly proved fatal; she would not do so again.

Relief was evident in her shriek when she uncovered what it was that she sought. For a moment she fumbled with the catches on the flat, black metal box that contained her unholy panoply before she impatiently wrenched the container open. Metal squealed and weapons and armor of demonic forging spilled out to mix with the jumble of mortal-wrought riches that covered the chamber floor. However, the succubus’ delight was short-lived, for her pursuer burst into the cavern like a bull at full charge.

“Your end is near, demonkin!” he cried in triumph.

“I think not,” the succubus replied, snatching up a cruelly barbed whip of braided metal threads. Its eight-foot length ended in a razor-edged spike six inches long.

Wind boomed through the cave as the demon beat her wings and leapt upwards. Here the ceiling rose half again a hundred feet and the whole of the nearly circular cave spanned easily twice that. With the added mobility of flight, armed with a weapon whose reach was double that of her enemy’s, the succubus was confident of victory.

Wheeling in tight arcs, the succubus circled her foe, wickedly snapping her terrible whip in lightening-like strokes. Calmly, the paladin parried the attacks then fanned his sword above him, releasing a wave of white fire up at the demoness. She dodged aside and returned the attack with a red spear of her own fire, belched out from between her gleaming fangs. It was met halfway by an expanding globe of scintillating pale blue. With a pyrotechnic burst, the two canceled each other out.

“Impressive,” the succubus boomed. “But you cannot maintain this impasse forever. You are in the heart of my power, mortal knight.”

“How better to excise evil than to cut at its core,” retorted the paladin, holding his shimmering weapon at the ready.

In reply, the succubus spat a bluish shard of energy at him and dove like a hawk after it. The knight managed to slap the first attack aside but the second, the succubus’ whip, scored directly, its vicious spike biting through armor to cut deeply into the paladin’s shoulder.
Not pausing, the attacking demoness flicked her wrist, looping the whip around the paladin’s helmetless head. The hooks sank deeply into the flesh of his face but he bore it stoically as he sliced at the entangling cable. Magically charged crystal met demon-metal and sheared through it.

In an extension of the movement that had bisected the demon’s whip, the paladin thrust out with his sword. The point of his blade drove deep into the succubus’ thigh just above the knee, turning aside when it struck the black, iron-hard bone beneath the crimson flesh. Tearing his weapon free, the paladin sent a spray of yellow blood splattering across the piles of treasure about the room.

Howling furiously, the succubus dove onto the paladin, whose own blood from the hook-wrought tears across his visage began to blind him. Instinctively, the knight thrust again with his great blade and felt it plunge into the succubus’ yielding body. Simultaneously, sickly yellow flames from the demon’s extended claws melted the armor on his chest and stomach into bubbling mass of liquid steel.

An instant later the succubus crashed into the mortally wounded paladin, her own weight and force knocking them both to the floor. The paladin’s weapon was finally torn loose from his grasp, the pommel striking the floor, causing the weapon’s point to burst through the succubus’ back as she fell upon it. The blade’s passage rent her ebony wings but those were the least of the demoness’ injuries, for she was transfixed upon the weapon’s crystalline length, and soon to die.

The cavern was silent now save for the rasping of the dying combatants’ pained breaths.

* * *

Lying on his back, nearly overwhelmed with agony, the paladin regarded the dying demon beside him. She seemed now as any mortal woman struck so grievously would be, save for her blood-hued skin and inky wings. Pain distorted her beautiful features as she clutched at the sword’s hilt and vainly tried to remove it from her body. She ceased her efforts when she noticed his attention.

“So,” she managed, her voice once again low and soft, if shaky with pain. “It seems neither one of us will survive to celebrate victory over the other.”

“So it appears,” grimaced the paladin in agreement. “But I have no regrets in dying, having taken you with me. I will be rewarded in the land of the gods for my deeds.”

“And what of me? What shall be my reward for aeons of confinement against my will, far from the plane of my home? Unlike you, my death is my end; your sword’s dweomer has seen to that.” The flawless features contorted as a shudder racked the demon’s body.

The paladin’s voice was growing weaker as death neared. “Why should you receive anything but oblivion, demon? It is just repayment for your crimes against the good people of this world.”

The succubus spat, feebly but with vehemence. “My crimes against the people of this world? What of the injuries done to me by those of your world when they trapped me by spell and tore me from my own world? What of the centuries of torment I have suffered at the hands of the mages of this plane who sought to exploit my power for their own gain?"

“You, whose life is measured in mere decades, know not what it is like to endure the loneliness of five thousand years of imprisonment, never once knowing the touch or company of my mates or brethren. You condemn me for my acts against your people but I have merely existed as I must, to live here in this place. I did not ask to be brought here but now I shall die here; alone, as I have always been in this world.”

Tears the shade of ink welled up in her emerald orbs and spilled down her scarlet cheeks. Closing her eyes, the dying demoness wept, her quiet sobs causing the impaling sword to inflict greater pain, hastening her end. Soon she was still, her life fading like a dwindling ember.

As the paladin watched his enemy’s death, waiting for his own, his heart ached for her. True, she was demonkin and had wrought much evil upon humankind, but he sensed no deception in her final words, only dejection and loss. If indeed what she had revealed was no lie, then she was a victim as well. To know naught but loneliness and need for one’s own kind for so long, and to be used without regard by cruel masters was no fate that he’d wish upon anyone, the paladin realized, and he had slain her for doing only what she had known to do.

Now the paladin shed tears, for his fallen nemesis. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he stretched out a hand to touch one of the tenebrous droplets drying upon her face. Gently, with his waning strength, he stroked her smooth skin.

“Forgive me, I did not know,” he whispered. His peace with his impending end was tainted by his new understanding. Would his regret follow him into his existence beyond this one? Could he bear for eternity the knowledge that his final act in this life was one of hate because of ignorance? Should he wish to forget his deed and leave the succubus, pitiful in her end, with not even the legacy his understanding would give?

No, he decided, he would not forget. If she had owed her victims her death for her deeds, he owed her remembrance for what had been done to her. Steeling himself, the paladin called upon the last of his life’s vigor to drag himself over to the succubus’ body. He collapsed upon her, his death agony upon him.

“Farewell, my foe,” he said, gazing upon the beautiful, unresponsive face. “You shall live in my thoughts, in my afterlife. I give you my sorrow, but not my pity, as a monument for your memory.” And so saying, he pressed his lips against the succubus’ dead ones, and breathed his last into them.

Now all was truly still in the cave, and nothing disturbed the shine of magic sword-light upon the gold and jewels of the gathered piles of treasure strewn about the place.

* * *

There was no one to see when the sword’s radiance began to grow, slowly, until it filled the entire vast chamber with the purest of light. Its substance began to disintegrate, and with it the succubus’ body. Soon both were gone, replaced by a cloud of blinding energy. The cloud began to shrink in upon itself, growing more and more solid until it began to take a definite shape.

Above the still, armored corpse of the paladin a new figure hovered. To an observer, the features of the succubus would have been plainly evident in the flawless body and face of the being. Her claws and fangs were gone, though, and her skin and the membranes of her wings were the color of winter sun on snow.

The entity looked down upon the slain knight below her and smiled. A ghostly shape rose from the body; it matched the paladin’s mortal form, only the scars that marred the latter were gone, and the lines of suffering were smoothed from its face. The paladin’s spirit floated up to hang in the air near the new presence.

“Thus I have freed the lands under the mountain’s shadow from its curse.” There was joy in his voice, which was not a voice but the speech of his heart and mind. “I now see truly, and understand.”

The being smiled. “And so shall the world beyond the mountain’s shadow pass beneath my wings. Go on to your reward; your work is done. Mine is just beginning.”

Together they rose up to the ceiling of the cave and through the mountain itself until they reached open sky. The paladin’s soul vanished in the sunlight and the great, blazing, winged form circled the mountain once before flying off into the azure distance.

Finis