As the demon continues to extricate itself from its cage of roots and branches, its eye becomes more mobile, bobbing out of the way of Zangua's first slash.
The second slash, however, lands with tremendous force, tilting it so that the pupil is pointed directly at Zangua. He levels the glaive, rears back, and drives the shaft into the eye with all the strength he has left.
The demon's eye bursts like an overripe tomato in the sun, spewing froth yellow slime and brown pulp. In a fraction of a second, the eye turns from a glistening orb to a flaccid, empty sack. The flailing pseudopods contract, becoming shriveled and brittle. Reddish-brown smoke starts issuing from the trunk as the demon's body disintegrates.
The demon hunter adapts to the changing situation without missing a beat, using his axe to hack off the withered appendages and cut the eye from the body. He tosses it at the base of the trunk and utters a quiet prayer in an unfamiliar language until nothing remains of the demon but a pile of dull brown ash. He takes a small fish-shaped copper container from his belt, kneels, and sprinkles something on the ashes, then stands up and stomps twice on them with his right foot.
The chamber is quiet.
Leth tumbles forward, catching himself on the ground with his hands, and remains there for a moment on his hands and knees, shaking his head. His memory is a blur; he can recall only the vaguest details of anything that happened after the party descended into this underground cavern.
"Thank you for your help," the demon hunter says. "My river runs clear for another day." He smiles. "Join me outside, if you will. I have food enough to share." He turns to leave.
I still want to hear about the Countercharm song.