When he made his way to the edge of his realm, he set the vessel aside, holding his razor sharp claws tip to tip clasped in front of him. Crouching, his clawed feet planted firmly, he commanded molten fire from the blades of his fingertips, transferring the flames to the palms of his hands, now precisely aligned with a master sigil inscribed onto the North face of the stone in front of him. The stone effortlessly withdrew, allowing him to exit. Dantalion quickly scooped the copper vessel in his scorching claws, sealing the exit in the same fashion, hidden from sight.
As he left the borders of the Courtyard, a veil of fresh snow laced the forest's canopy. Here was the only peace he would seek to find, where no-one else would condemn or judge him. A frozen layer of ice sparkled above the base of a waterfall, hidden from view.
Leaning over, he searched his reflection like a mirror, remembering the guardian he once was, and the immortality he left behind. Dantalion set the copper vessel firmly in the snow. Gently, one clawed hand held the base, tilting the liquid slightly, extracting a droplet of blood into the snow. Dantalion was a master alchemist, knowing the absence of my blood would free me from the elixir he was about to create. He scooped the copper vessel up, heading back North.
The snow fell steady, and when he made his way back to the edge of the Realm of Goetia, he once again set the vessel aside, commanding fire to align with the master sigil, allowing him re-entry.
The fires illuminating the halls led him toward his chamber. Endless experimentation with the base metals used in the forging of the sigils, combined with the elixir of immortal blood, gave Dantalion promise that he could summon his brother demons of the Goetia… it may even grant them perpetual youth like his own. His many attempts with the elixir left him unsuccessful. He felt guilt, sitting in his chamber balancing fire powers from razor sharp claw to claw.
"What good does this do? Seventy two Goetic demons and their only true freedom will be when they walk not as demons but as men once again," his voice echoed off the chamber walls. "The angelic hierarchy must be amused. How one can be condemned for two ages and no matter what shape shifted form I keep, still retain timeless youth. What purpose other than to torture me more," he murmured aloud.
One of his followers, loyal to him, spoke: "My Lord, you should not feel guilt. You were among the lucky to be released."