“Did I Say it Right?”

The sorceress gazed at the demon with hopeful curiosity. “Did I say it right?”

“I have no idea, I don’t speak Latin. Half the time people are just cobbling together something from Google.” Then it laughed, that excruciatingly sweet laugh that had seduced countless beings into committing unconscionable deeds.

“Does Latin not work?”

The demon liked this one. She had curiosity, manners.

“Sometimes, sure,” the demon replied truthfully. “But so often intent is cloaked by affectation.” The creature cleared away the circle surrounding it, easily brushing away the diamond-dust laden chalk. “Why did you write in Latin, anyway?”

The sorceress blushed and mumbled, “I saw it in a movie.”

“We are thousands of miles and thousands of years from the height of Rome’s empire of magic users.”

“Will you teach me to do this properly, please?”

The demon smiled. Not once, in ten thousand years, had anyone simply asked. It was incredibly refreshing.

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You are a sleepy omen of doom and wonder.
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