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.

Shapeshifting

Kasdeja had been enjoying a few hundred years of uninterrupted vacation time from her service when she was rudely called back into the Office.

"KASBEEL," something thundered horribly in the black, and she whimpered. Maybe if she held still, It would just leave her alone.

"WATCHER KASBEEL, ANSWER ME."

"What!" she whined, teeth chattering.

"YOU'VE BEEN IGNORING YOUR DUTIES, CAPTAIN OF THE LEGION. YOU DO NOT DESERVE THAT HUMAN SKIN OF YOURS."

She burst into tears. "I've been working! I have!"

"YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS, WHAT IS THAT IN YOUR HAIR?"

She shook her dreadlocked head. A couple centuries' worth of shiney trinkets, tied in knots in her caution-orange hair, jangled noisily.

". . . IS THAT A SPOON?"

"It's pretty. I put a hole in it here, see? And put the string through that, see there? And tied it like this to my hair--"

"WHO HAS BEEN DRESSING YOU?"

"Myself! Do you like my stockings?" she wiggled her toes, neatly wrapped in a pair of rainbow toe-socks.

"YOU ARE GETTING YOUR OLD FORM BACK. YOU WILL HAVE TO WORK OUT OF THAT NOW." the terrible thing growled.

"But----!"

"NOW."She opened her mouth to protest again. Maybe if she offered him a cookie, she still had a few mint chip ones left in her backpack, but as she began to speak a cold, dark mist began to creep from her mouth, snaking along into a second, ethereal form. The giddy, toe-sock-clad girl collapsed into a heap of dust, and in its place stood once again the Fallen Kasdeja, Commander of Legions, the 5th Satan, and Temptress of the Inferno. Its eyes glittered cold, black, and unfeeling, its wings outstretched, its pale skin gleaming with an unnatural frost.

"I obey," it murmered, bowing its head, and somewhere inside the shell Kasbeel was a cry of despair.