After nightfall all the devils crawl out of their holes and head for the loudest den they can find. They've such an insatiable lust to spread their dark sire's influence that they'll even perform their vile rituals without a victim to corrupt.
I've witnessed such a ritual before, if only once - a hundred beasts crowded around a flame, each eye echoing the blaze they'd born from. Some held ritual tools; strange bows with strings of metal and barrels they'd stretched men's skins over. Whatever they were, I knew they held their victims' souls; each string a wail of a man fallen, each skin an echo of the heart once beating beneath. I saw the devils pound and claw at their possessions, the pack a shrieking, growling, writhing mass of something so perverse, I cannot begin to describe the horror it aroused within me. Horror, and... and pleasure.
I knew better, however, than to surrender myself to its influence - while the devil's spell rings sweet and clear in the night, 'tis but a fleeting whisper of the joy waiting at the end of our breath. Even cursed, I've never once allowed myself to waver, for I am a child of our Sun. Surely my reward will only grow grander as His Radiance witnesses the strength of my conviction.
