The Word of Sharp Horns.
It was a drawn-out, chaotic creaking cry, like a stubborn sound coming from the tip of a demon's horn. The sharp tip was speaking, and so was the demon's heart.
Contrary to everything people believed, once demons were stripped of their infamy, all the stereotypes, and the shadows cast by their bizarre, hideous, frightening appearances, they were actually the creatures closest to fairies. Of course, this referred to the purest fairies and the truest demons.
True fairies needed a belief to live-or rather, an obsession. They might even have been born from it. It could be something utterly absurd in the eyes of an ordinary person, but all that mattered was that they held fast to it in their hearts. Otherwise, they would gradually develop a series of symptoms, even forgetting their own names, until they vanished from the world entirely, just as some fairies came into being out of thin air.
True demons were much the same, but unlike fairies, they followed a pure desire. That desire could even influence their outward form. Again, this referred to true demons. The kinds of creatures and identities encompassed by the term "demon" had become extremely broad. Some inferior specimens unworthy of being called true demons actually followed this principle as well, but most had surrendered to the desire for destruction and devastation. They looked crude and repulsive, and more than half were brainless.
Being a true demon was not simply a matter of strength, much less a classification based on it. However powerful a stupid creature might be, it remained an inferior specimen, not a true demon.
The squeaking, like the sound of a horn tip twisting, seemed to contain a demon's desire, but it was faint, small, and weak, just like that delicate creaking sound.