Ch 3 – Life as a pillow is rougher than you’d think. Like seriously, where’s all the soft fluff and stuff?

[CW: possible reference to identity death? Look, idk.]

I winced and gasped out as Professor Kheln slung me across his shoulder. With what little mobility I had through the lingering paralysis, I wiggled within his grasp. A string of coughs followed my next breath as the alcoholic stench of his cape consumed me—a cape now wrapped around me as the man lugged me through the hall like a particularly hefty pillow.

If I had the ability, I’d be cursing him and his entire lineage for having dared to spawn such a shameless slime of a man. Or better yet, just stabbing him. He deserved my worst. The best I had in me through the fading paralysis, however, was the barest of wiggles, of which he had no issues containing.

The doors to the chamber opened with a boom that echoed through my ears, and the professor took his first step in. A deep, swelling shame filled me as I realized this was how I was entering the consulum assembly, wrapped up in a dirty cape and slung over a man’s shoulder. I was saved from having to meet the assembly’s gazes, as I faced the other way, but that wouldn’t last for long. The man strolled into the room, and I winced, certain that everyone’s eyes were on me.

“You’re quite late, Diabolist,” Professor Fell remarked, a thin layer of scorn in her voice. “We are nearly finished.” Had they really been about to decide on my fate without me?

I felt the shift in Kheln’s shoulders as he shrugged. “I had to pry her from Aevn’s grasp. She didn’t want to let the demon go.”

Aevn, I was fairly sure, was the academy’s doctor, of sorts? I truthfully wasn’t certain. I’d never interacted with the woman, at least not consciously.

“Let’s just hurry and be done with this,” another professor rasped out with a voice like rough sandpaper. I didn’t recognize it, though I didn’t know all of the professors here, and ironically, the consulum tended to consist of family members of little import or relevance. “You can discuss Kheln’s lateness and the two missing students on your own time,” the elder man grumbled.

A curious comment. Had something happened to Thamus and Hamilt? Did they skip the assembly? Or could there be two others missing?

Professor Kheln stopped, and with a light grunt, lifted me off his shoulder, twisting me around to face the room. The paralysis slid out of me like a thick slime, and I stumbled as I regained my balance. Taking a heavy breath, my eyes refused to peer upward, glued to the floor below. I couldn’t; I wasn’t ready.

The professor’s hand pushed against my back, urging me forward, until I stood before the bronze stand, opposite the large half-circle table that seemed to tower over me. Its legs loomed, thick golden pillars carved centuries before and only partially obstructed by the white silken cloth. Finally, I looked up, meeting the heavy gazes and glares of the academy’s consulum. The provost sat at the head, directly across from me. His eyes glowed with both power and interest. To each side of him were three professors, creating a semi-circle along the grand table.

Besides the provost himself, I was only familiar with Professor Fell. She was one of the few female professors at the academy, and the youngest of them by far. The woman made up for it by having enough venom for three, in her words and most certainly on her person. I’d always somewhat admired her demeanor, despite the fact that I was fairly sure she despised me and almost everyone else here. Though I’d yet had the privilege of being in one of her classes.

My legs felt cold and shaky, but I was glad to have the cloak still wrapped around me, steeped in a smell comparable to rotten fruit or not. Barely clothed, in a foreign body, and without a scheme or two up my sleeve, I felt more vulnerable standing there before them than I had perhaps ever. My cheeks warmed as I stared, overwhelmed and out of my depth. Each stared back.

“We’re certain this creature stole the body of a student? It seems a bit… slow,” the raspy professor said, an old wrinkling man with a thin white beard. He leaned forward, looking through the small pair of spectacles with narrowed eyes, as though to get a better look at me.

Before I could even begin to think of what to say, the provost spoke, his voice filled with a power strong enough to weigh on my very soul. “I was hoping that our demonologist here might have some input for us.” I stared up at the academy’s head, never having been so close to the man. He was obviously ostentatious, as most family heads were, in one way or another. But a voice that felt powerful did not necessarily indicate where he stood compared to the others. It felt terribly intimidating, but it was mere showmanship, I assured myself; a means of maintaining authority.

To my right, professor Kheln stepped forward. “It is difficult for me to conclude anything for certain just yet. I’d need to study her and the summoning circle for a few days to get—”

A dismissive wave of the provost’s hand interrupted him, “Just your current, honest assessment for now, Kheln.”

The professor sighed, and gave the provost a nod, his ruse shattered. “She was, in fact, Gellin Zelian prior to the transformation, so far as I can tell. I only caught the end of the event. Though I have no reason to doubt Thamus or Hamilt’s claim to her previous identity.” His eyes shot a glance off to the side, and following it, I spotted Hamilt sitting on a low bench in a small corner, almost hidden. Thamus was curiously missing.

That wasn’t important, though. My eye twitched as I assessed Kheln’s words, and I turned toward the diabolist, a boiling fury engulfing me.

“So then you knew who I was? And yet you still treated me like some—”

“SILENCE.” The voice of the provost boomed across the room, slamming into me with the heavy force of a revene sigil and almost knocking me off my feet.

With wide eyes, I turned to face the man to find his gaze leveled fully onto me. Gulping, I gave a nervous nod. As much as I wished otherwise, I held no power here, and given my troubling situation, angering the academy provost would prove disastrous.

Staring me down, the provost continued in loud, concise words, “You will speak when asked a question. This is an assembly of the academy consulum, not a circus. Professor Kheln, please continue.”

“Thank you, Provost. As I said, it does seem as though Syr Zelian transformed, as was claimed. The trouble is sorting out the exact nature of the demon standing here before us, of which I have a few likely possibilities. The first, of which I’m sure has come to mind, is a possession, though an exceedingly odd form of one, given its complete lack of subtlety and the resulting physical transformation. I should note that despite common perceptions, demonic possessions are exceedingly rare, and come from demons of a rather different nature than succubi. In fact, most possessions are actually due to creatures of the void, rather than demons.”

“Yes, yes, get to the point. We aren’t your incompetent students,” one of the other professors grumbled out. “I have things I want to do today.” The man gave a piercing glare toward the demonologist.

“Right,” Professor Kheln coughed. “In short, a possession of some kind is unlikely the cause.”

I couldn’t help but remember the strange voice I’d heard before things went awry and wondered just how accurate the professor’s assessment truly was. At least it didn’t seem to still be present.

“A more likely possibility is that she is an entirely new demon: born, in a sense, out of the ritual. I find it to be the most plausible. Alternatively, she could be demonic in body, but still largely human in mind. The succubus holds some aspects of Gellin still within her. At least some of his memories, if not all of them, from what I can gather. It is difficult to ascertain just how much, though. Given the thoroughness of the ritual, however, I lean toward no longer considering her human.”

I leveled a glare at the man, parting my lips to retort something back before the pressure of the provost’s steely gaze had my jaw clenching shut. Damn this man.

“And you believe your alternative is unlikely? That the transformation was more physical than mental in nature?” the provost asked. A hand shifted to rub against his trimmed beard.

“I do not truly believe that such a thorough transformation could only affect the body without impacting the mind as well.” Kheln said. “Even Aevn noted that the two are rather intrinsically connected. This goes beyond the normal cosmetic adjustments. The demon has no apparent issue standing and walking. She even has control over her tail, something I would not expect of someone undergoing a simple cosmetic transformation. Balance and control issues are common problems in bodily transformation of any significance. A new appendage would necessitate some amount of noetic magic to adjust the mind.”

As though to mock me, my tail flickered in agitation. Surely, this was nonsense…wasn't it?

He continued, “The transformation was obviously quite thorough, and I see no reason to assume it stopped at mere motor adjustments. She is a demon in mind and body, newly formed and essentially ‘born’ from the failed summoning. It’s quite the interesting phenomenon, I must admit.”

A shiver went down my spine, all the way to the tip of my tail. That couldn’t be true. I was Gellin, wasn’t I? What difference did a change in appearance make? I was still fundamentally me! Would it not be obvious if I were not?

My head slowly twisted from side to side, denying the man’s claims. “No,” I said in a whisper, before shouting, “No! Y-you have to believe me. I am Gellin!” My voice—high pitched and with a desperate underlying whine—came out far less confident that I’d have preferred.

“Of course you would think so, little succubus. You have his memories after all, don’t you?” Kheln said, staring down at me condescendingly. My hands balled into fists, and I clenched my jaw, as I curled my tail around me to cease its agitated flickering. The damned thing was just making things worse.

I glared at him for a long moment before turning to the others. “Surely you don’t actually believe this—this—” my words faltered as my gaze shifted from person to person, hoping to find an ally, only to meet indifference. The provost, in his elaborate robes and stately demeanor, let out a light sigh. Like the others, his eyes were uncaring, full of fascination more than anything else.

Of course they wouldn’t care. Why would they? It was a truth I knew better than most. Everyone looked out only for themselves, and everything had a cost. No one was sticking their neck out for the foolish man who’d managed to, somehow, do all this to himself.

“Enough,” the provost proclaimed, luckily without the heavy power behind it. “Your input was quite useful, Kheln.,” he pondered. All that remains is to decide what to do with her. “I’d normally send the demon back to Gellin’s family for them to deal with. Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to reach them.” His eyes narrowed on me. “I imagine you have some idea as to why.”  From the way he said it, I knew he was talking to me as a demon with stolen memories instead of as Gellin Zelian, son of Althon.

I shivered. “F-father said he was going on a trip for a few weeks. He didn’t specify where, though I suspect it is to the Yetvir Mountains for ingredients of some kind. I—” I paused before blurting out, “There’s got to be a way to change me back. Please.” At this point, I was openly begging. But what options did I have? If they didn’t want to consider me human, perhaps they could at least help me in transforming back into one. I wasn’t hopeful that they would take up the offering, but if they saw me as desperate, one of them might offer up a branch. There were always ways to take advantage of the desperate.

The provost let out a rumbling hum. “It may be possible. Perhaps worth looking into, before Althon hears of this. The man can be a thorn at the best of times.” He paused, and the other professors took it as an opportunity to give their own input.

“Just send the creature back to the Under,” one muttered dismissively. “I imagine Althon would thank us for the trouble. The man is well known for his distaste for the demonic.”

“More like his distaste for the Kheln family, specifically,” Fell said, shooting a glance toward Professor Kheln. He wasn’t at the head of the family, though that made little difference, in truth.

From the corner of my eye I saw Kheln give a coy smile. “I would gladly bind and study her, Provost Selivin. There’s much I believe that I could learn, and it would keep the demon out of everyone’s hair. Which I’m sure many would appreciate.”

The provost gave another low hum, as though considering it. “No,” he finally said, “While that would handily solve the current problem, we need the demon intact. I would prefer not to risk Althon’s ire, and I expect he’ll be wanting her. Your little experiments tend to be scarring. Nor do I believe exorcising her to be wise.” As the man’s eyes lingered along my form, I suppressed another shiver.

“Provost, you wound me. I assure you that I can be plenty subtle in my experimentation,” Kheln argued, to which the provost waved a dismissive hand.

“I mean no offense, Professor Kheln. I merely expect that him learning of her simply being placed in your care will provoke him unnecessarily, experimentation aside. He is likely to take it as an intentional slight against him.”

The professor huffed but didn’t argue back. On this, the provost was correct. I knew my father well. He was a patient man, but only in the sense that he would hold his grudges close, biding his time for the perfect moment to extract his revenge on any who would dare to insult him.

The provost tapped idly against the table, silence dragging in the wide room until his eyes fell once more on me.

“You claim to be Gellin? Let us see how well that holds up. Until your ‘father’ comes to claim you, or Professor Kheln here finds a way to transform you back, I will allow you to attend classes as before.” There was a sly edge to his tone.

“Provost, surely you jest,” the raspy elder argued. “A demon attending the academy as though they’re a student? Absurd,” he scoffed.

The provost glanced to Kheln for his input.

The professor gave a shrug. “Until Althon can be reached, this is my decision. At least some part of the demon is Gellin Zelian, it seems. Until we can ascertain how much, we shall see how she handles being a student. In truth, the idea entertains me.” His gaze lingered on me once again, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

Professor Fell scoffed and muttered, “I doubt the creature even knows what classes to attend. She’ll be dead or under some student’s thumb within the week.”

“If it is incapable of attending classes, then I’ll have someone attend to the succubus, so long as they remember that the demon will be sent to Althon as soon as he is within reach.”

A deep part of me wanted to argue against how they were all treating me. To insist upon my humanity. But I knew this was truly the best I could have hoped for as an outcome.

Fell muttered something that I was unable to make out, only for the provost to ignore it.

“ With this settled, I believe we can adjourn the assembly,” he continued. “Kheln, adjust her class curriculum so that she’s in one of your own. Professor Fell, take her to the girl's dorm and assign her a room. Ideally with someone who can watch her and keep her in line.”

“Me?” the professor scoffed, shooting a glare my way.

“I’m sure you can manage,” he said, his words laced with sarcasm.

“Fine.”

She stood, scowling, and made her way to the entrance. Upon reaching the doors, she turned back, giving me an expectant look. “Well?”

I scrambled after her, the woman glaring as I caught up, already partly down the hall.

“So long as you can behave, you won’t be needing this any longer.” Professor Fell reached out a hand and gripped onto the shackles binding my wrists. I could feel the power course into it as she channeled some kind of spell. A second later, it slipped from my hands, clanging down to the floor.

She stared for a moment longer, her nose wrinkling. “You stink. Is that Kheln’s cape? Stay a meter behind me exactly and don’t wander.”

My cheeks flared, and I gave her a nod, too embarrassed and on edge to reply. With that, we moved forth and toward a future unknown. I was so deep over my head that I wasn’t sure I could tell up from down anymore. Would I truly be able to find a way to fix this? Was it all hopeless?

‘That went better than I’d hoped.’

My body froze, and I paled.

The demon. It was—

‘Yes, I’m still here, little Vyxa.’

The voice was different now—distinctive rather than a mirror of my own thoughts. And it was evidently feminine.

She continued, ‘Well, not truly “there,” but our connection—I do not believe your language has a proper word for it—is still there.’

This was not good: an understatement if I’d ever heard one. She was still in my head, and could clearly hear my thoughts. What was I going to do?

“I said a meter behind me, demon. Exactly what part of that did you fail to understand?”

My gaze refocused to find Professor Fell a ways up the hall, scowling and with her arms crossed. I couldn’t let anyone find out about this. If they did, things would get even worse for me.

‘I would agree.’

Frantically, I scurried forward, stopping a scant meter from the professor. She glared for a moment longer before turning and continuing down the hall at an impatient pace.