Chapter Text
The barrage of overlapping voices booms from the distance. You could just about make out some of the faces of the townspeople through the thick smoke of what once was your little cottage. Snarls, anger and fear mar their expressions, the pure hatred of what they do not understand, of what they do not want to understand obvious even through the flames and trees you are hiding behind.
You are a healer- were a healer. Knowledge of herbs and small magics have been passed down to you for generations. Just like your mother before you and her mother before that, you used your knowledge to help any who needed it. Whether it be for a small cold, or a life threatening illness, you were there. Earning a mere pittance for your hard work. But that never mattered. You were born to heal- to help others. It was in your very blood. So this is what your families and your own lifelong dedication has brought you.
Your little cottage in the woods, where you lived, where you worked, where you’ve been your whole life. And now there it stood- violent flames licking along the entirety, widows shattered, roof caving in. The angry mob of villagers, the very same you’d sworn your life to protect, jeered and hollered, watching in delight at their destruction of your quaint home, an array of sharp weapons in their dirty hands waiting, thirsting for blood.
Witchcraft was what they accused you of. Dabbling into the occult- bound to bring death and destruction. But you were innocent. Had never harmed a soul, had never turned down anyone who needed you and most certainly was not dabbling in any dark magic. You never even had chance to defend yourself. One minute, you’re working as usual, treating the wounds of a local butcher, who had had unfortunate runnings with their own knife, the next you were fleeing as fast as your legs could carry you as you spotted torches and pitchforks in the distance.
You knew they wouldn’t come any deeper into the woods. They also had their own frightening legends about them too, superstitious fools. So, you watched. From them shouting your name, spitting it like a curse, to them throwing their torches through your windows. The burning, the celebrating. You watched it all, with a cold detachment, almost as if you were floating outside of your own body.
You don’t know how long you stood there; maybe minutes, maybe hours. The villagers had grown bored, leaving you to your ruins. The fire had burned itself out and all that remains is a dilapidated ashy mess. Without even realising, your legs carry you towards the ruins. With the door gone, you step straight into the threshold, wincing at the alarming creak of burned wood under your feet. ‘There has to be something left’ you think to yourself.
You choke as the thick black ash gets stuck in your throat, tears running down your cheeks in dark streaks as it floats almost innocently through the air. Yet, you don’t give up. You don’t even know what you’re looking for, but there is something urging you to not give up. Hurriedly, you dig through piles of ash. Your hands come away black, but you pay it no mind. Suddenly, your head snaps towards your old bookshelves- or at least where they used to be.
Digging through the ash, you freeze when something solid meets your fingertips. Your heart thuds in your throat, as you frantically dig whatever it is out of all the mess. A book. Out of all your possessions, including everything that has ever been given to you, the only thing to remain untouched…. Is one singular book. Quickly, you run your dirty palms over the cover; you don’t recognise it. The title is in some unknown language, the alphabet jagged and rough looking. The tome itself is heavy and thick, the cover a dark obsidian. Crimson splatters decorate the cover. Your hair stands on end and the relief you once felt quickly fizzles out, overcome by a deep routed dread. You have never seen this book before in your life, but instinctively you know, there is nothing good inside of it.
Just as your trembling fingers grasp the cover, ready to open it, a sharp caw startles you nearly out of your skin. Whipping you head around, you see a crow perched on one of the half burned down walls. It peers at you, with a tilt of it head, its crimson eyes boring into you. Slowly standing up, book clasped tightly against your chest, you step over to the bird. The creature only stares, a strange knowing look in its beady eyes. Stood face to face with the crow, you flap your hand, trying to scare it away. But it doesn’t move. So you try again, and again, but the bird remains motionless, perched just out of reach. Watching.
Grumbling to yourself, you drag yourself away. If the bird wanted to stay there, there was nothing you could do. A small part of you worried if the crow somehow knew something you didn’t, like the villagers showing back up to have you burned at the stake. Maybe the crow wants to watch that too.
You kick away some rubble and sit yourself down on the floor, uncaring of the dirt. Before you can question yourself any further, you throw open the book. Your brows furrow as you try to make out the strange language and symbols, your fingers leaving ash behind as you trail them over the page. As you turn the page, you freeze. You know what sits before you; a summoning circle. Symbols and patterns laid out clearly before you. Your breath gets stuck in your throat. You’ve never practiced witchcraft, your family has always taught you the dangers of dark magic. And yet, someone must have put this book here. And where has it been hiding all these years? You would surely know if it had just been sat on your shelf, right?
Your eyes flit from word to word, strange symbol to strange symbol. Now you understand why the words are so unfamiliar- what lies before you are demonic runes, one of the many languages of the underworld.
Your heart beats frantically. You must destroy this book. You must destroy it before anyone sees it. You’re speeding out of the house before you even know you’re moving, book clasped tightly. But you stop. You’re already done for, everyone already believes you a harbinger of doom. Even without this book, you know there is no convincing the town. If they see you, they will trial you as a witch. If that was what they believed you to be…. What did you have left to lose? You had already watched your life crumble to dust, those you thought your allies ready to slaughter you. You have no idea what manner of demon the book summons, but you do know one thing. Could it really get any worse?
Your eyes dart around you as your thoughts rush a mile a minute. What’s the worst that could happen, the summoning goes wrong and it kills you? You’re dead anyway. But, if it goes right…. well, maybe you could start again. It could help you escape.
Tucking the evil tome and yourself deeper into your coat, you stride into the woods behind your ruins. The villagers would never follow you there. Eventually you find yourself in a small clearing, with just enough space for you to draw the symbols. Snapping a branch from a tree, you get to work. As you dig the stick into the mud and begin, copying the summoning circle exactly as depicted. You don’t notice the delicate flap of wings as the crow settles on a tree nearby.
More than once, your stick slips, the lines warping and you grumble to yourself, getting on your hands and knees to move the dirt back into place before starting again. The process is painstakingly tedious, every detail no matter how small needs to be perfect, and you have to will your trembling hands to steady,
Eventually, you sit back, happy that your circle matches the book. One wrong mistake and it may not work, or summon something else entirely…
Gripping the book tightly, you furrow your brow, trying desperately to make sense of the incantation. The words feel unfamiliar and heavy on your tongue, like it is wading through thick sticky syrup. It’s like you were never meant to see these words, let alone voice them.
With great determination, you speak the last of the incantation and brace yourself, shoulders squaring and expression hardening. But nothing happens. So you try again, your pronunciation different. Nothing. Again. Silence.
With a sigh, you hung your head and run your dirty fingers through your hair. You should have expected this. The book probably isn’t even real in the first place. Disappointment settles heavy in your gut. It is most likely a good thing, you tell yourself, you should never have been meddling in these affairs in first place. You begin to stand, but quickly duck as a familiar crow darts nearly into your head. Huffing, you try to leave, but once again, the crow comes springing towards you. Quickly you duck to the side once more, but the persistent pest comes straight back at you, its beak biting into the meat of your arm. You yelp in shock at the sudden pain, but barely have time to process before you see the crow coming back.
As quickly as you could, you grab the stick which had been your pen and try to knock the bird out of the sky, but its target seems to have changed. This time when the bird strikes, it grabs the stick, yanking it from your palm with way more strength than a normal bird should have. It takes a moment to register, but a sharp sting and dull thudding at your palm draws your attention. Fresh blood oozes from a jagged cut the rough bark had left in its wake. It trickles down your fingers hot and sticky. Trying to ignore it, you brace for the crow to come back. But it doesn’t. It perches itself high on a tree and peers down at you, almost smug.
Unable to resist, you swear at the horrible creature, your injured hand flying forward with an accusatory point, your face bright red with fury and embarrassment. As if your day couldn’t get any worse, you lose a fight to a fucking bird.
A sudden ominous red glow catches your eye. It’s faint, but noticeable. Your jaw drops as you see the circle glowing weakly with a faint hum. You glance back at the unmoving crow, before looking down at your hand. The steady rivulets of blood have been pooling by your feet, a few drops landing just inside the circle. Your eyes widen comically as you thrust your hand forward. More blood joins the circle and the dim crimson light roars violently to life, suddenly blinding you as you stumble back. You hear nothing but the rush of blood and adrenaline in your ears.
A awful sinking feeling settles in your stomach. It worked… wasn’t this what you wanted? Your ears ring and you struggle to look up at what you had done. With a deep breath and heavy head you finally look. The swirls and patterns of the summoning circle glow brightly, threads of crimson light float into the air, connecting to a figure floating high above the circle.
Your jaw is agape as you frantically whip your head around. You’re not sure what you’re looking for; anywhere to run? Did anyone see? Will this be the last thing you ever see? Your feet are frozen to the floor as your stomach sinks. Now what?
“Well, well. A lost little lamb has called upon me for the first time in centuries,” as the intimidating figure drifts slowly back to the ground, you catch the smirk on its face.
No words come to you. You stand frozen, horrified. The demons feet hit the ground and slowly, unhurriedly the demon strolls towards you, each step seemingly ringing in your ears. When he stops, it is right in front of you. You’re face to face with the demon’s chest as it towers above you. Gently you feel a gloved hand at your jaw, and your face is tilted to meet its gaze.
It’s not what you were expecting. As your gaze meets dark eyes, your first thought strangely, was that it was a man. Your second thought was that he was beautiful. You had expected something horrific, something straight out of a nightmare, limbs disproportionate, features all wrong, red skin… but what stood before you now looked like an angel. He looked like he was chiseled from marble, sculpted cheekbones, sharp jawline, eyes that reminded you of freshly spilled blood. Long sliver hair flowed down his back and broad shoulders effortlessly perfect. If you didn’t know what he was, what you had done, you’d swear he came from the heavens themselves.
The demons brow furrows slightly, but the smirk on his face remains, “Well? I imagine you did not go through all this trouble of summoning me just to stare.” His hand is warm where it still holds your face,
“I- What is your name?” your voice doesn’t want to work. You have no idea where to go from here.
The furrow in his brow increases and the smirk drops from his face, “Were you not the one to summon me, little lamb?” He tilts his head, as his eyes look you over, pausing briefly at the blood on your hand.
“No, I mean yes. But I…” embarrassment makes your cheeks feel warm, “I didn’t know what I was summoning”.
He just looks at you for a heatbeat, then another, then he’s laughing. His shoulders shake with the force of it as he finally steps back out of your space.
“How delightful. As distasteful as I often find your kind, I must admit your stupidity does amuse me. So then, what were you hoping to achieve at least?”
“I want to leave. I don’t know where- somewhere nice. Somewhere far away from here.”
The demon taps a finger to his chin, “that is all?”
“Yes.”
Slowly he approaches you again, each step purposeful as you refuse to step back. He leans further into your space and you hear as he takes in a deep lungful of air.
“Hmm, your blood is pumping so fast. That isn’t the full truth is it?”
“What do you mean?”
There’s a worrying glint in his eyes, “You want them dead.”
You stammer, “No, of course not. I just want to live in peace.”
The demon tuts, “You summoned an unknown demon just to leave your village? I am many things, little lamb, but I am no fool. You want them punished. You may want peace, but you and I both know that you will only find peace stood upon a mountain of corpses of those who deserve your ire.” He purrs.
Opening your mouth, you prepare to immediately retort; you’re a healer, you want to cause no harm, but his words coil around you like a snake. His low voice seductive as it seems to penetrate into your very soul; you feel something within you starting to stir.
Your heart is thundering out of your chest. “And if this is what I want- for you to kill the people that have wronged me… what do you want in return?”
A sinister grin spreads across his handsome face, revealing deadly razor sharp fangs, “What brought me here in the first place?”
“… the summoning circle?” You frown.
The demon purses his lips and delicately trails a pale finger down your face, only stopping at the juncture of your throat. “You are smarter than that, little lamb. The circle only allowed me to enter this world. What summoned me?”
Your eyes glance over at the now dull circle, landing on one spot. The small pool of blood just inside the boundary, the same blood which now soaks into the grass, staining it with the sins you were about to commit.
“My blood.” You simply state, looking down at your still sluggishly bleeding palm.
“Yes, very good,” his tone is mocking, and at the pat of his hand on your head, you want to bite it off, but you bite your tongue instead. “I will give you whatever it is you desire; death, riches, freedom. However, you must sate my own desires. It is a very simple transaction.” The condescension in his voice finally makes you snap.
“I may be naive, but I am no fool. Nothing is simple with demons. Say what it is you want. Plainly.” You cross your arms and don’t back away from his intense gaze.
The demon chuckles and it catches you off guard, “alright then, little lamb. I kill, you feed me. Forever. Or until I get bored, at which point, who knows. You will pay for my services accordingly, and I will decide what that entails. Take my deal or leave it. Just know, that whatever incantation you said to summon me… You did it incorrectly.”
You blood turns to ice, “what do you mean?”
The demon leans uncomfortably close to you, so close you could smell the smoke on his breath, “I am free to move outside of the circle, you failed to bind me.”
He must find the terror in your face amusing as you glance to the circle once more, noticing that you indeed both stood firmly outside of it. His laugh booms throughout the forest. Sweating you curse yourself, how did you not even notice this whole time?
“I have come such a very long way. I admit I was curious who would dare to summon the Archfiend Sovereign, with such weak sigils. I could have refused, the pull was not strong. But your blood… that caught more than just my attention. Despite my nature, I believe I have been quite patient with you.” His face hardens and his eyes blaze, “but I did not make this trip for no reason. Take my deal, or I will drain you now until you are nothing more than an empty husk and a sad story”.
“So… I take the deal and die-“
“After I have fulfilled my end of the bargain.”
“Or, you kill me now.”
The demon gives you a mocking smile “Exactly. You do catch on quickly.”
It’s hard to hear anything over the pounding in your chest. You knew this was a bad idea, yet you did it anyway. But as the demon waits for your response, his foot tapping on the ground, you come to a realisation. Nobody in the village deserves to live. Not for what they did to you after all your dedication to them. This is what they deserve. As for yourself, if you were to be caught by them, they would burn you alive for crimes you haven’t- hadn’t, committed. You wanted a peaceful life, but maybe that was never in the cards for you. At least, with this, you wouldn’t die with a whimper, pathetic and forgotten. You’d die taking them with you.
“I accept your deal, demon. You will serve me until those who have betrayed me lie slain. But, I also want at least one year of peace after, to live as I like. Then, you can take your last payment”.
Watching the demons face closely gives nothing away. It was impossible to know whether he was displeased at your terms or not. The silence is left to drag on for what seems like an age and you find yourself fidgeting.
The demon smirks, “Alright, Mortal. Consider it done. Now, do you know how to bind me to yourself, or do I have to give a detailed explanation?” The smugness radiated off of him like a foul odour.
“I told you, I’m not an idiot. I assume that requires my blood too.”
“My my, you really are a clever one.” He purrs; you want to punch him.
Firmly, the demon grabs your bloody hand and brings it to his mouth. His tongue darts out and slowly trails along the cut. A small groan vibrates against your palm, before his lips seal around the wound and he sucks. You wince and let out a sharp breath at the stinging pain, but you don’t pull back.
When the demon finally releases your hand, it is with a satisfied sigh. His lips and tongue are pained with your blood as he licks at the blood in the corners of his mouth. This time when he speaks, there is a deep rumble from in his chest, the sound inhuman and unnerving.
“You are delectable. I will have a lot of fun with you.”
You want to bite back, but the events of the day are finally wearing on you and you can barely find the energy. Suddenly, a thought dawns on you, “Do you have a name? You said you were the Archfiend Sovereign, but is that your name?”
“I have had many names over the years. You, my little lamb, may call me Sylus.”
“Okay, Sylus,” you test the name on your tongue, “What happens now?”.
“What do you want to happen now. I am after all, your faithful servant.” He gives a mock bow, but the quirk of his lips tells a different tale.
You huff, “well, I don’t want to be stood here all night. I want to be somewhere I can finally relax.”
Sylus smirks, then clicks his fingers.