The proper protocol for handling a demon of such power was to [i]checks notes[/i] live a lifetime of diligence and subservience to the Immaculate Dragons and trust in the blood of the dragon. She was... a little off that course, so alternatives needed to be considered.

She felt the mask inside her robe. Just a little more power and she'd have enough. That remembered rhythm beat in her heart, accelerating. A little more, a little more, ten more small steps and she'd be half way to Chiaroscuro. 

But what she wanted more than the power of the goddess, in this moment, was a [i]miracle[/i]. What she wanted was for this to all somehow work out perfectly through the power of knightly valour and moderately skilled horseback umbrella lancing. Her heart was beating fast, but the beat was still steady, still harmonious. It needed to thrash like a caged hyena before it would be loud enough to wake the goddess. What a greedy wisher she was, to wish for power to be given to her without her having to wish for power.

But this want, romantic and pure, was a gossamer thing. She was ready to put it aside in an instant if - when - the Goddess was truly needed.