They advanced on Hector’s master, the sorceress.  They looked like men, but Hector knew they were not.  The spell his master had cast upon his eyes would not last forever, but while it did, he could see their true nature.  The spell revealed the “men” for the wretched creatures they truly were.  Monstrosities, their rotting flesh torn and seeping with sickly gray effusion as they were forced through the gates of their underworld prison.  Demons.  The sorceress held a most precious treasure, which the demons’ master desired.  She had it in her arms, even as they surrounded her on the high hill behind her home.  She spotted Hector.  She held aloft the tome.

“Swallow it!” she cried, and as she tossed the book to him, it shrank until it was the size of his thumbnail. Continue reading