“Thousands of years?” echoed the priest. “That is impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” the demon grinned mischievously. “Be my priest, and you will rule the world for centuries. Multitudes will bow down before you and worship your every word. Your vanity will not be a slight to me as it is to Kaltara. Be vain. Be powerful. Take your revenge against those other inferior mortals.”

Vand’s eyes grew large as he tried to envision the image that the demon was painting.

“Oh,” sighed Dobuk, “what is the use? You are a foolish servant of Kaltara. You probably don’t have the character to rule the world. You don’t have the ability to push your feelings aside and crush your enemies beneath your boots. You are a weakling.”

“No!” protested the priest. “I have no feelings towards others. I am superior to all of them. I always have been, but they will fight me. How can I overcome the multitudes that will rise up against me?”

“My priest will have powers befitting his station,” smirked Dobuk. “Mortals are weaklings. When you speak in my name, they will either bow or flee, but you will not allow them to flee. You will strike them down to the last child. Can you handle that, Priest?”

Vand’s eyes glistened as he imagined the power that he would wield. He pictured King Regis kneeling before him, as he demanded the surrender of Angragar. His face broke into a smile.

“I think you will be surprised with what I can accomplish,” declared Vand. “Kaltara will rue the day that he tested me. You have a bargain, Dobuk. I will be your priest.”

The Great Demon’s grin broke as his mouth opened wide revealing the rows of sharp teeth. Flames shot from the demon’s eyes as he nodded his head in satisfaction. He waved a claw in the air, and Vand’s body instantly healed. The blisters disappeared, and the charred skin returned to a healthy tone.