Page 99 of The Demon Crown

But... What if Gluttony was right?

He wasn’t so certain he wanted to understand what was going on with the rest of his brothers. And he certainly didn’t want to agree and be the reason they were all at war. It was too much for him to consider. Too much for him to uncover when there were already problems in his own house.

“Brother,” he started, not sure what he was going to say. “I don’t—“

Gluttony interrupted him, pointing ahead. “There’s a spirit, if that’s what you’ve been looking for.”

Greed didn’t have to be told twice. He kicked the sides of his nuckelavee, and launched into action. It took him a second to see what his eagle eyed brother had seen, but the spirit wasn’t trying to hide. It rolled across the sands, a faint greenish color of mist that stood out all too much. The little thing had no idea that it was going to die today, and that was unfortunate.

There weren’t a lot of them already. And if it wasn’t the right kind of spirit, he wasn’t certain what he’d do with it. After all, they needed the spirits of emotions so that humans could truly feel them.

But his temper had already simmered underneath the surface for far too long. If the spirit wasn’t the right one...

Greed leaned over the edge of his mount, holding onto the saddle with his thighs, powerful body nearly skimming the sands as he leaned low. Lower... lower still until he scooped the spirit up with his clawed hand.

It let out a little shriek of anger, a good sign to be certain, and struggled to get free. While its form might be mostly mist, he was a demon king. He’d been what this little spirit had been before, and he knew how to contain it. Struggling to continue scooping it back between his hands, he juggled the damned thing as Gluttony took his sweet time to join them.

His brother’s amused smile only served to make Greed want to smack him, but at least he held out the glass jar quickly enough. Only then did Greed let the mist fall between his fingers, then he capped it.

The greenish light turned darker with anger. It didn’t even have eyes, or the ability to speak, apparently.

“How long have you been wandering the desert?” he asked, lifting it up so the spirit could see his face.

It glowed sporadically, apparently trying to get some message across that he didn’t understand. A long time, he’d guess. Considering how weak the spirit was, it had likely not seen a single human in at least a few years.

“You’ll need to feed before I use you,” he muttered, shaking the jar so he could see the spirit from all angles. “This won’t suit. But don’t you worry, you’ll live on if you’re the right sort. What are you?”

Of course, it couldn’t answer, and he barely remembered the times when they lacked this physical form. They’d all been like this. A glowing light, weak and struggling to even stay illuminated. Then they’d found the better way to feed. They’d glutted themselves on the mortals that they found growing stronger and fighting off all the other spirits who might take their food.

But that was all he remembered. Nothing specific. Only the story that they’d told a thousand times over to explain how and what they were.

Sighing, he looked at Gluttony to see his brother had turned ashen, even his lips lacking all color.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Do you recognize it?” He shook the jar again, tumbling the little spirit around in a circle. “I can’t remember this color, to be honest. It’s a little like pea soup.”

“It should be a spirit of adventure,” Gluttony replied. His brother’s voice was quiet and breathy. “But it’s changing.”

“Into what?”

“Loss.” And that choked noise didn’t sound like Gluttony at all. “What would make a spirit of adventure turn into loss?”

Greed looked around them at the desolate landscape, at all the adventures that might have been had which were now buried underneath the mounds of sand. He knew what had made this spirit start to change. And he knew the struggle that made it weaker.

Adventure required hope and excitement and all the other spirits that should have accompanied it. Emotions that were so rare in his kingdom, it was no surprise that they had died out.

He tucked the jar against his chest, holding it tightly as he’d wished someone would have done for him. “Adventure,” he muttered underneath his breath. “Perhaps we should visit a few of Varya’s friends before we go back.”

“And bring the Horde right to their homes?” Gluttony shook his head, still far too pale for Greed’s liking. “It’s folly you seek, brother. You wish her to love you in return? Stop risking her people.”

That would be the logical thing to do. And a voice in his head whispered that it was the right thing to do as well. Risking others was a stupid idea. He could go back to his castle and seek the servants that might give this little spirit a feast. Not to mention it would grow very strong inside Varya’s adventurous body. But he didn’t want to take any risks.

She was his. Varya was his to protect, and he intended to make sure she lived a long, healthy life. Longer than any human before him.

“I was there when Lust’s bride almost died,” he said quietly. Even the spirit in the jar stilled, looking up at him as though it knew the importance of this moment. “I saw her withering away. I felt her soul detaching from her body. But it was a spirit of affection that saved her. A single spirit who had grown strong and healthy and could have even taken physical form if it wished. But instead, that spirit gave itself up. It joined with her, possessed her, allowed her to remain in control over herself even though it knew that meant a life almost like death.”

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