Dark fantasy painting of a man facing a large horned demon with glowing eyes, surrounded by shadowy figures in murky water.

“The path we have to take,” the demon warned Damien, “lies through the substance of the Hunter’s own fear. Are you ready for that?” Through the smoky film guarding the room he could see a glistening blackness, like an oil slick, that rippled thickly as the earth-fae flowed into it. Hungry, it seemed. Terribly hungry. A foul odor rose up from its surface, a stink of blood and carrion... and worse. “He feared sunlight. Heat. Healing. All the things that life is made of.” “Don’t be naive, Reverend Vryce.” The vile stuff was moving slowly toward him; if he stayed where he was it would soon make contact. “Death,” he said sharply. “He feared death more than anything.” “Not death,” the demon said. Startled, he looked at Karril. The Iezu’s eyes were dark, unreadable. See more