(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

here and chained me. Mortals do not possess the perspective that allows
them to grow the strength of character to rise above desires, as I sought to
teach them."
"I disagree, Lord Trias. You simply had an overabundance of trust in your
spirit for them," Grace rebutted.
A sneer twisted his beautiful face. "Surely, mistress tanar'ri, you don't
believe that mortals can ever gain that perspective? Not when you are what
you are - your very nature cries out to subdue any chance mortals might
have to rise above their base instincts." He turned away from Grace, "Now
what would you ask of me, mortal? I'm afraid I can offer little in the way of
boons. Do you seek power over the minds of your fellow mortals? Do you
hope for wishes to be granted? Do you want wealth? Do you seek more
souls to torment?"
"I seek knowledge, not power or wealth."
"Then speak your desire."
I stood, looking up at him, "My mortality has been stolen from me. I wish to
reclaim it."
"You speak foolishness," Trias waved a dismissive hand, "Yet... there is one
who might be able to help you with what you seek. It is a fiend, named Fhjull
Forked-Tongue. He shall aid you." The deva's lips quirked in a small smile.
"He is under an obligation to do charity."
"How do I reach him?"
"There lies a portal to the north of this prison. Its key is a broken chain link."
He looked meaningfully at the shattered links around his feet, stooped, and
plucked one up and pressed it into my hand. "An appropriate key for one
who seeks to leave Curst."
"My thanks. Farewell."
"Farewell, mortal. I have... business... to attend to." He looked meaningfully
at the ceiling of his prison, and leapt into the earth above him like a diver
into an ocean, leaving behind only motes of starlight.
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