The book felt heavy in my hands, older than the stones of the city itself. I traced the faded ink of the summoning circle with a fingertip, the diagram complex, almost dizzying in its detail. Kael’s ghost danced in my peripheral vision, a constant, irritating reminder of why I was about to do this. He’d always been there, a brother in arms, a confidant. Now? Just a brand on my soul, searing with betrayal.

  Damn him.

  I gnced around my study. Hidden wasn’t really the word; more like forgotten. Tucked away in the oldest part of our family estate, this room had become my sanctuary – or maybe my prison. Arcane herbs hung in bunches from the rafters, their pungent aroma a familiar comfort. Shelves groaned under the weight of forbidden texts, rescued from forgotten libraries and back-alley deals. The air tasted of desperation and old parchment.

  For weeks, I’d been prepping for this. Days bled into nights, fuelled by lukewarm coffee and a burning need. Sleep was a luxury I couldn't afford. Not now. Not when the knife of Kael’s treachery was still twisting in my gut. Every symbol in the circle, every ingredient in the brazier, needed to be perfect. No room for error. Not when you’re inviting something like *that* into your life.

  My hands trembled, just a little. I clenched them into fists, forcing the shakes to subside. Nerves, pin and simple. Even after years of dabbling in the arcane, the idea of summoning a being from… well, from *there*… still made my blood run cold.

  I ran through the incantation in my head one st time. The words themselves weren’t particurly complicated – ancient dialects always seemed to favor simplicity – but the *intent* behind them… that was everything. This wasn’t some parlour trick. This was a full-blown plea, a desperate bargain with forces beyond human comprehension.

  Taking a deep breath, I began.

  The words felt strange leaving my lips, each sylble vibrating with an unnatural energy. I felt a tingle on my skin, a prickling sensation that spread from my fingertips to the roots of my hair. As I spoke, I sprinkled pinches of powdered mandrake and nightshade into the brazier. The emerald fmes flickered, pulsing in time with my recitation.

  Finally, I reached the climax of the incantation. My voice cracked, strained but resolute. “*Azazel, I summon thee! I call upon the ancient power, the infernal lord, to heed my plea!*"

  With the final word, I touched a long taper to the kindling within the brazier. It caught with a whoosh, an unnatural emerald fme erupting skyward, bathing the room in an eerie green glow. The damn thing almost looked *alive*, twisting and writhing like a serpent.

  This was it. No turning back now.

  The temperature in the room plummeted. I sucked in a sharp breath, my lungs burning with the sudden chill. The air crackled, thick with some kind of unseen energy. It buzzed against my skin, raising goosebumps despite the yers of clothes I wore. I resisted the urge to wrap my arms around myself. Fear was a weakness, and demons preyed on weakness.

  Shadows danced at the edges of the circle, swirling and solidifying. They writhed like living things, reaching out with grasping tendrils that tugged at the fabric of reality itself. The scent of sulfur, sharp and acrid, filled my nostrils, choking me.

  A voice echoed around me, guttural and resonant, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. It wasn’t directed at me, not exactly, but rather a general rumble that filled the space, vibrating in my bones.

  "*Who dares disturb my slumber? Who calls upon the ancient one?*"

  It wasn't a question so much as a statement, heavy with power and irritation. It promised… well, it promised a lot of unpleasant things. Pain, certainly. Maybe madness. Definitely a really bad day.

  My gaze flickered around the room, as if expecting to see *something* – eyes peering from the shadows, teeth glinting in the gloom. But there was nothing. Just the flickering green fmes, the swirling shadows, and that omnipresent voice.

  "*Speak, mortal. Your audacity demands an expnation. A price.*"

  My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to burst free. The temperature continued to drop, frost forming on the stone floor beneath my feet. I could see my breath clouding in the air. It felt like I was standing on the edge of an abyss, staring into the infinite darkness.

  I forced myself to focus. Panic wouldn’t help. This was it, the moment of truth. I had to hold my nerve, recite the binding incantations, and drag whatever was on the other side of that gate kicking and screaming into my reality.

  Gathering what remained of my courage, I cleared my throat and continued the rite, focusing on the ancient words, channeling all my hate and focusing it into a single, burning point.

  The shadows coalesced, growing denser, darker. They swirled together like ink in water, forming a vague, humanoid shape. Then, with a final, sickening *crack*, the form solidified.

  Before me stood Azazel.

  Towering wasn't even the word for it. He was immense, his head scraping against the low ceiling of the study. Shadow clung to him like a shroud, obscuring the finer details of his form, but I could make out the broad shoulders, the powerful limbs, the leathery wings folded tight against his back. Horns, thick and curved, rose from his brow, framing a face that was both beautiful and terrifying.

  Forget the cheesy depictions in the old grimoires. This wasn’t some red-skinned caricature. This was something ancient, something *real*. His skin seemed to be carved from obsidian, reflecting the green fmes in a disturbingly beautiful way.

  But it was his eyes that held my attention, and stole my breath. They burned with an infernal fire, an ancient light that seemed to see straight through me, peeling away the yers of my soul like an onion until there was nothing left but raw, bleeding need. They were calcuting, intelligent, and utterly devoid of mercy.

  He studied me for a long moment, his gaze lingering, assessing. I got the distinct impression he wasn’t particurly impressed.

  Finally, he spoke, his voice a chilling rasp that seemed to vibrate through my very being.

  "*So. You are the one who summoned me.*"

  The words weren’t just heard; they were felt. They resonated in my skull, a subtle pressure that made my teeth ache.

  "*A pathetic little mortal, reeking of desperation. Tell me, summoner, what petty grievance has driven you to disturb my… rest.*"

  Petty? He called Kael's betrayal *petty*? My hands clenched at my sides. I swallowed hard, forcing down the surge of anger. I had to remember who I was dealing with, what I was asking.

  "*I have a request,*” I managed, my voice surprisingly steady. "*A task that requires… your particur expertise.*"

  Azazel inclined his head slightly, a gesture that could have been amusement, or perhaps just curiosity. "*And what is this task, mortal? Tell me what you desire. But be warned. Favors from my kind always come with a price.*"

  The image of Kael fshed through my mind – his smiling face, his easy ugh, the way he’d cpped me on the back just before… before he’d plunged the knife in. My rage, momentarily suppressed, surged back to the surface, hot and corrosive.

  "*Kael betrayed me,*” I said, my voice tight with fury. "*He took everything. He deserves to die.*"

  Azazel remained impassive, his eyes fixed on mine. Waiting.

  "*And you believe I should sully myself with such a… mundane act of vengeance? Is that what you think I am? A glorified assassin?*"

  I shook my head. "*No. I know what you are. I know what you’re capable of. I wouldn’t presume to insult you with a request you deemed… beneath you.*”

  I paused, gathering my thoughts. It was a gamble, saying all of this. But what choice did I have?

  "*I want him dead. Not just… dead. I want him to suffer. I want him to know, in his final moments, that it was me. That it was I who brought him to his knees. I want him to understand the consequences of his betrayal. And for that, I offer you something of value.*"

  Azazel’s lips curled into a slow, predatory smile. "*And what, pray tell, does a pathetic little mortal like you possess that I might actually desire? Gold? Power? I have access to more of both than you could possibly imagine.*"

  I met his gaze, unflinching. "*My soul.*"

  The word hung in the air, heavy with significance. The temperature in the room seemed to drop even further. Even Azazel seemed to pause, considering.

  "*Interesting,*” he murmured, his voice now ced with genuine interest. "*A soul. And not just any soul, but a mage’s soul. One steeped in arcane knowledge, ripe with potential. Intriguing indeed.*"

  He circled me slowly, like a predator sizing up its prey.

  "*Tell me, mortal, what is it about this Kael that inspires such… passion? Such willingness to sacrifice your very essence for a momentary taste of revenge?*"

  I recounted the events of Kael’s betrayal: the secrets he’d revealed, the trust he’d abused, the future he’d stolen. As I spoke, my voice trembled with the raw emotion, the pain still so fresh it felt like a physical wound.

  "*He was my friend,*” I said, my voice barely a whisper. "*My brother. And he threw it all away. He deserves to suffer.*"

  Azazel stopped circling and stood before me, his massive form casting a long, ominous shadow.

  "*Very well,*” he said, his voice now decisive. "*I accept your offer. I shall grant your request. Kael will suffer, as you desire. He will know your name as he draws his final breath. But understand this, mortal. Souls are not given lightly. Once this bargain is struck, there is no turning back. In one month from today I will return to collect what is mine. Is this understood?*"

  The weight of his words pressed down on me, suffocating. I hesitated, just for a fraction of a second. One month. Thirty days. That was it. But the image of Kael’s smiling face twisted into a sneer, and my resolve hardened once more.

  "*Yes,*” I said, my voice clear and strong. "*It is understood. I agree to your terms.*"

  Azazel smiled, a truly terrifying sight. "*Then let us seal the pact.*"

  Azazel extended his hand, a massive cwed appendage that seemed to drink the light from the room. "*Blood, mortal. The crimson seal that binds our agreement.*"

  Taking a shaky breath, I reached for the silver dagger on the table beside me. The bde felt cold against my skin. I hesitated, knowing that this was the point of no return. Once the blood flowed, there would be no backing out.

  But my hate was stronger than my fear. I closed my eyes, took another deep breath, and drew the bde across my palm.

  Pain erupted, sharp and searing. I bit back a cry, clenching my fist tight. Blood welled up in the cut, dark and viscous. I extended my hand, letting a single drop fall onto Azazel’s outstretched palm.

  The blood sizzled as it touched his skin, a puff of bck smoke rising into the air. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I stumbled, nearly colpsing. Power, raw and malevolent, flowed between us, a dark current connecting my soul to the demon before me.

  Azazel’s eyes glowed brighter, burning with infernal energy. "*The pact is sealed,*” he said, his voice now resonating with triumph. "*Your desire shall be fulfilled. And in one month, I shall return to cim what is rightfully mine.*"

  As he spoke, a brand seared itself onto my wrist – a demonic sigil, a twisted symbol of ownership. It felt like being branded with a white-hot iron, the pain excruciating. I cried out, staggering backward, clutching my wrist.

  "*Consider this a reminder, mortal,*” Azazel said, his voice fading slightly. "*A countdown etched upon your very flesh. Enjoy your brief moment of triumph. For soon, you will be mine.*"

  With a final flicker of shadow, Azazel vanished.

  The room was plunged into silence, broken only by my ragged breathing. The summoning circle, now inert, smoldered in the dim light. The stench of sulfur lingered in the air, a lingering reminder of the horror that had just transpired.

  I stood alone in the study, clutching my wrist, the demonic brand burning like a brand. The pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the dread that was now settling over me, cold and heavy.

  One month.

  Thirty days.

  That was all I had left.

  I stumbled towards a chair and colpsed, the weight of my actions crashing down on me. I had gotten what I wanted. Kael was dead. But the price… the price was far steeper than I had ever imagined.

  My soul belonged to a demon.

  And the countdown had begun.