Shadows bent where Yachemi walked, curling at her heels like smoke desperate for an owner. Four hands swung loosely at her sides, each with claws tapping in rhythm against her thighs. Her grin—sharp, mocking—was the kind of grin that promised trouble and enjoyed every second of delivering it.

The town had been silent when she arrived. Silent, except for the bells. Bells rang when holy ground was disturbed, when a presence like hers slipped too close. She could feel the tension in the air, taste the metallic tang of prayers muttered in fear.

“Oh, come on,” she muttered, one claw dragging lazily across the edge of a stone wall, carving a line just deep enough to make the masons curse later.

“You’d think the heavens would send someone interesting if they’re going to make all this fuss.”

Her eyes glowed in the dusk, molten red against the dimming sky. Yachemi tilted her head back, listening. The bells faded, replaced by the heavy hush of expectation. She wasn’t stupid; she knew what that silence meant. They had sent one of their little winged darlings, polished and pious.

She chuckled low in her throat.

The demon leaned against the gate of the temple, stretching her four arms in opposite directions, claws flexing. She looked like a queen on her throne, restless, waiting to be entertained.

“Let’s see...” One hand lifted to her lips, a claw tapping against her fanged smile.

“Will it be the usual? Stern face, glowing sword, all that righteousness nonsense?” Another hand gestured wide as if presenting an invisible stage.

“Or maybe—if I’m lucky—they’ll have some bite this time. Something worth sinking my teeth into.”

Yachemi never lowered her voice. She wanted to be heard.

When she pushed the gate open, its iron hinges screeched like wounded animals, echoing up into the courtyard beyond. Flowers, carefully tended by trembling human hands, leaned toward her as though bending under an unseen weight. She stepped across them without care, boot heels crushing delicate stems.

Her laughter rolled out, rich and taunting, as she spread all four arms like a star unraveling.

“I’m here, little saint,” she called, voice thick with mockery.

“Come down from your pedestal. Or are you too afraid to dirty those holy feet on the ground I stand on?”