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off and torching cities.’
    Having said this, Oleg began nervously pacing about, looking at the body lying in front of him. He obviously couldn’t wait to return to it, although Heliona’s publicity for demonic capacities hadn’t fallen on deaf ears.
    ‘And how am I supposed to keep this appearance?’ Oleg stopped at last and stared straight at the salamander.
    ‘It’s very easy. Feel that it’s yours. Feel yourself as a demon…’ Heliona’s voice changed, it became deep and broad, with hypnotizing power. ‘Feel the cold fury and the hot hatred of a demon… the ability to fly and the thirst for the torment of your enemies… don’t feel hair on your head but malicious snakes ready to pounce on anyone who is careless enough to approach you… feel the reliability of your armour and the sharpness of your claws…’
    As the former goddess pronounced these words, Oleg fell into some sort of deep trance. Her words went through him, imprinting themselves deep in the twilight of his soul, dissolving in it and giving birth to an answering reaction.
    Hatred was the first to come; a bright red burning wave flowed through his body, making him feel every muscle in his mighty body. Yes, Oleg felt his strength and power which needed no other support because it stemmed from the sharpness of his fangs and claws, the strength of his muscles, the resilience of his armour of scales, and the lightness of his wings which enabled him to overtake any enemy trying to escape. That was the second feeling to overwhelm Oleg, and for long seconds he revelled in the sense of incredible physical strength which was new to him.
    But then Oleg was covered by the next, the third wave, and he shrieked in pain and amazement. In the blink of an eye he understood why there are so many strange legends about demons and he understood that the legends don’t contain an ounce of truth. The third wave was thirst. Thirst for the blood and pain of his enemies, the thirst to kill and terrorize, to lord over slaves and throw down adversaries.
    Then it all passed. Oleg stared at Heliona, dumbfounded.
    ‘What was that?’
    ‘A few emotions of a real demon of the High Circle. Now you can imagine what it means to be a real demon.’
    ‘But what did you do that for?’
    ‘You liked it, didn’t you?’
    ‘N-no.’ Oleg’s answer sounded hesitant.
    ‘Oh, really?’ The girl smiled her most cunning of smiles.
    But Oleg stood firm.
    ‘Well, yes, that is, I liked it at that moment, but not now. I don’t want to be such a …’ he thought, searching for a fitting description. ‘… joyful killer.’
    ‘If you don’t want to be, then you won’t be.’ Heliona answered calmly. ‘But I needed to do it so you would completely unify with your demon body… OK, what’s happening behind you? Don’t turn round!’
    Oleg thought for a second, then suddenly saw. He saw everything around him, 360 degrees, above, below, to the sides, with the eyes of the hundreds of tiny snakes growing on his head instead of hair. He realized that he could single out a hair-snake at will and send it wherever he wanted to, controlling its movement – an ideal spy and killer. That he could deal a blow with his hatred, cause pain or kill at will, and rip the strongest armour to shreds with his claws. He realized many things about this body which had fallen to him, and not everything that he realized could be put into words.
    ‘Well, what’s there?’ Heliona repeated impatiently.
    Oleg laughed. Madam likes to joke? Well, we can do that, too! And with great pleasure he showed her the finger, drawing in his claws.
    ‘This sign, your ex-divine Flamingness,’ he informed her with maximum sarcasm.
    ‘Yeah, you win,’ Heliona said embarrassed, lifting a fiery hand to remove the sign from the top of the boulder Oleg was leaning his back against. But her embarrassment didn’t last long.
    ‘Well then, do you appreciate your advantages? And now quick march back to your own body.