"Why are you doing it, Grimhold?"
The question bubbled out of a ruined throat. The demon asking it sat propped against a supply crate with both legs gone below the knee, yellow eyes swimming with confusion, one trembling claw pointing at the carnage around him. His camp burned. Green fire chewed through hide tents and writhing banners alike. Bodies lay everywhere, stacked in the gaps between shelters like someone had been tidying up after a slaughter.
Raven, still wrapped in the envoy's squat shape, crouched down in front of him.
"Nothing personal," he answered in Grimhold's gravel. "You were just here."
His hand closed over the demon's skull and squeezed. The crack bounced off the valley walls. The yellow eyes went dark, the last flicker of hive presence in this place guttering out like a candle pinched wet.
He let the corpse slump over beside the others and stood.
