Kasbeel pauses to reflect on the journey ahead.

Kasbeel stood and gazed down at the river Styx, teeming with tormented and screaming dead. Its expression did not change from the cold pale mask of indifference, as if it were watching a thousand tiny ants toil in an ant hill. A head surfaced in the water, and Kasbeel in a sudden outburst kicked it back in, but even the loud SPLOOSH sound it made as the form flailed back into the depths did not bring the General the slightest satisfaction.
It knew that it could get its human form back, if it wanted. There were ways. But Kasbeel felt horribly listless now, and hardly had the inclination to do so. Besides, it reasoned, it could perform its work more efficiently without the restrictions of that silly ungainly fragile little body it had insert itself into before.
A miserable plan it had been, to use a human form to do its work in. Humanity always led to weakness. Kasbeel had become very, very weak, but the Prince had shown Kasbeel today that weakness was not tolerated, and Kasbeel had learned its lesson.
And furthermore there was still work to do.

LORD JOEL, it echoed to itself as it unfolded its enormous black-feathered wings.