Holding his talisman in one hand, Anest almost inaudibly began speaking some low words over his sword; words of power in the secret ancient language of wizards. The glaive began to glow dull blue in response.
"Old fool," the Demon said once more as it advanced, "you cannot hope to stand before me, for I am not of this world." Gesturing, it said, "Behold."
Their surroundings became grey, devoid of colour. The air became cold, like dank air issuing from a tomb. Chill mists came from nowhere, lingering about in the trees, and with them came a mind-numbing fear. And as their surroundings became more wraithlike, the Demon grew from a shadow to a palpable presence, as if evil itself could become real; solid.
Yet Belloc was as unmoved as a granite icon, and his wrath kindled to fury. Holding up the Vhurd-aq, he shouted strange words of power that pierced the Demon's spell like a flashing rapier, and the eyes atop his staff shone forth like twin suns. "Avaunt, servant of evil!" he cried, "Do not dare to threaten me, or I will flay your unclean soul to shreds."
The Demon and its allies seemed to shrink in the argent brilliance of the Vhurd-aq; their eyes were made for the dark of night, and the twin suns of the Vhurd-aq sent crystalline knife-shards of brilliance into their very souls. Howling and gnashing their teeth in agony, the warlock and his companions milled about in confusion, blinded. But the Demon hissed in rage, spread wide its wings of death, and vaulted upwards into the shadows and vanished. The company could hear it moving through the darkness, passing through the shadows around them. Instinctively, Anest, Dorain, and Brogan encircled Lily, swords ready. The light of the Vhurd-aq faltered as Belloc tried unsuccessfully to descry the Demon's location.