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crystal of fire from the sash around her waist. She gazed at it lovingly. It had been fashioned eons earlier by her father, the Creator Bore, before his death at the start of the war between the gods. She exulted in the sense of power emanating from the crystal, which even without its companion pieces made her all but invincible in battle.
    Darkly, she remembered being denied the other crystals by the full council of gods, after her father's death. They had claimed that it had never been Bore's intent for her to hold all three ,and in silent humiliation she had stood before them, mumbling a bitter thanks that they had at least given her the one gem. She had felt like a foolish child, forced to endure a public humiliation, while Jartan had been so pious in his mouthing of praise for Bore, even as he robbed his daughter of her legacy and locked the two other gems in his own treasure vault.
    Later she had gone to him, like a low-born supplicant, to plead for a change in the decision. His words had been gentle as he'd lied and said how he could not entrust such power even to his own children, with all its potential for harm or corruption. Yet she had seen through those lies, although she had nodded and pretended to agree. He wanted the crystals for himself, it was so evident, and in the centuries that followed, when she had appeared at court functions, she had known he and his offspring were laughing at her humiliation. Now at last there would be a reckoning--not only for that, but for all the slights she'd endured.
    Even with just one of the three crystals, she had great power. Once she had the others that were now in Jartan's possession, her power could be magnified tenfold.
    Reverently, she picked up the stone and set it into its proper niche at the base of the pentagram, which began to pulse and glow, bathing the room in a twisting light.
    A shadow reared up before her, towering to the height of the arched vaults a hundred feet above. Mighty arms of flame reached outward, pressing on the side of the pentagram, so that it flexed and bulged though it did not give.
    She attempted to look upon his visage, but it was a face that danced and shifted in the flames. Shafts of fire snapped out, and at the end of each the image of a tormented soul appeared, shrieking in silent agony. Eyes of liquid fire, brighter than the hearts of suns, gazed down upon her. From the ends of its fangs, white-hot drips of phosphorescence rained down, forming into bodies that tore at themselves in anguish as they fell.
    As it moved, muscles of glowing steel coiled and shifted like writhing snakes. Its taloned hands reached out, so that she struggled for control as it grasped toward the doomed souls, and squeezed...
    The nightmare closed inward, pulsing, shifting. There was a flash of light and the room was bathed in a gentle brilliance, soothing to the eyes, like sunbeams glistening off the softly rolling sea.
    He appeared neither male nor female to her eyes, but a fascinating, seductive blending of both.
    "Gorgon," she whispered.
    He smiled.
    "Tomorrow I set my plan in motion. It is time for you to act as well."
    There was no response, only the smile.
    "When I have my father's other crystals, and Horat's portal crystal, I will have the power to break the barriers that divide our realms. With your strength the gateway can be widened for your entrance into this world, and together we shall rule."
    In her heart she knew the lie. But as she looked into his guileless eyes, she could almost feel a tremor of desire. She was no fool, she knew who he was, but here in this realm, with the power of the Crystals of Fire, she knew she could bend even him to her power, once he had served his purpose.
    And Gorgon, ruler of the demon lords, his features now lighting with desire to match hers, smiled yet again.
    * * *
    "Is that the best image you can form? Those windows are too blurry, and you don't even know how many floors there are. No wonder it's so out of