The aggression drains from the demon and the principality both. Illyria eyes them both with mingled suspicion. And disappointment. She was given to understood there would be more violence. There was every implication.

"Illyria." The word alone is a dare, flung spitefully in the demon's direction. "God-King of the Primordium." Obvious victor in the Battle of Phone. Triumphant, she stalks to the room's edge to retrieve the little object, the source of their conflict. It is still making noises.

"It is mine," she tells the principality firmly. "Do not come near it again."