11. Chapter Ten

The setting sun is upon me, the intense colours of dusk casting my bathroom in shades of orange, purple and pink. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, regarding the way the long brown strands of hair frame my face. I look normal, for the most part. Just your average brown haired girl, nothing unique or special about me. At least, that is what I would have said a few weeks ago.

Now, as my hands lift to pull my hair back away from my face, I am captivated by my own eyes. Once brown and ordinary, now they are anything but that. My pupils are devoid of any light, deep and cavernous like the Mariana trench. The thin rings of ethereal gold that surrounded my pupils just a few days ago have taken over my eyes, tendrils of shimmering fire reaching out from the rings and devouring the brown I was born with.

My eyes are otherworldly, now. Windows down into the archaic flame burning at the roots of my spirit. The resplendent golden glow ensuring that for the rest of my life, people will assume I am wearing contacts. Perhaps with time I can learn how to project a different image, like Daemon does, and conceal what I really am from everyone else.

With a deep breath, I exit my bathroom. Night is falling, and the moon is rising high up in the sky. Once the last rays of sunlight disappear beneath the horizon, the moon will wear a rustic, shadowy hue. The blood moon.

I'll be at the holy altar then, ready to complete my bond with the Great Prince of Hell.

I don't know exactly what will happen during this ritual, but I know that Daemon will guide the way.

When I step back into my bedroom to get dressed out of the robe I put on following my long after work shower, I am shocked to see black fabric sprawled across the foot of my bed.

It wasn't there 10 minutes ago.

I walk over and touch the incredibly soft silk, lifting the dress up to preview it. It is a floor length, form fitting gown. There is a long slit up the front of the left side, and a plunging neckline. It is simple, but beautiful, with an intricate sigil in delicate gold thread weaved into the fabric beneath the point of the plunging neckline.

The sigil is from the old book in Rome, the one I carved into my protection candle.

This must be his sigil. I don't know why this only occurred to me now. I drop one hand to trail my fingertips over it, the dress shifting as it now spills down from my one hand as I hold it up to gaze at.

I set it back down on my bed so that I can slip off the thin black robe, allowing it to drop from my shoulders and pool at my feet. Standing naked in my bedroom, my attention is pulled towards the window as the ravens that have been surrounding me all day begin to caw loudly.

I know now that these large black birds are the manifestation of demons, some of the members of the first of the twenty-six legions under Daemon's rule.

They are of his oldest, most loyal soldiers.

Little bits of insight have been coming to me since Daemon's power first touched my soul, and left a mark. Things I just know, without understanding exactly how. One of those gifts of knowledge led me to the understanding that his gift of insight will be mine once we are bonded.

Reaching down, I grab the dress and slip it on over my head. It is the perfect fit, of course. It hugs my waist, flaring out at my hips and flowing around me beautifully. I've never been the most beautiful woman in a room, or the type of girl men go crazy over. However, Daemon has made me feel like I am the most beautiful star in the vast expanse of space. Endless galaxies, a billion beautiful cosmic events, and an infinity of time, yet I am the most beautiful thing he has ever known.

I feel it coming, another burst of knowledge that comes to me easily.

"Within you is the provenance of magic, as old as the universe itself."

His voice echoes in my head, this time it is not distorted. It may not be human, but I understand every word in its entirety.

I smile, feeling the ancient flames at the foundation of my being. Once upon a time, I woke up as a normal person playing with witchcraft in her closet. Tonight, I transcend my own humanity and fully awaken as the witch I was always meant to become.

There are demonic entities outside of my house, they've been spiraling around me like vultures. I move to stand in front of my bedroom window, my eyes lifting first to regard the sunset's beautiful display, before I gaze off into the distance and see a few bodies scattered around the city that surrounds my home.

Possessed people, standing as still as the dead and watching me with hungry eyes. These demons do not belong to my Prince of Hell. They belong to others, others that feel called to my awakening power, desperate to take it for themselves so that they can transcend, too.

Daemon, or whatever his true name actually is, must be a formidable force of Hell. None of the possessed men and women that have been following me around have gotten too close. They maintain a respectful distance, the ravens become increasingly aggressive if they wander too near to me.

On my walk to work this morning, people kept stopping to marvel at the black birds as they flew around me, escorting me through the city. A couple of people even pulled out their phones to capture the unnatural event, in awe of the birds' strange behaviour.

It doesn't bother me. Not anymore. With knowledge comes confidence in the things that once scared me only nights ago. I know now that if any demon tries to harm me, Daemon will come roaring out of the depths of Hell to destroy them.

Knowing I am guarded not just by him, but by his devoted legions, calms me greatly. So does that knowledge that once I let Daemon in, he will show me how to protect myself, too.

This is my world now, and I will embrace it.

Turning away from the window, I head downstairs. I haven't eaten all day, so I quickly fix myself a sandwich with a side of fresh fruit and sit at the small, wrought iron table in my garden to eat it. It is incredibly quiet this evening, which is extremely unusual for the bustling metropolitan city I call home. The ravens are quiet now, too.

Every once in a while, I can hear distant whispering. Murmurs I cannot comprehend, but something tells me that the voices belong to the demons keeping me safe tonight. I cannot fathom what they are discussing, so I do my best to ignore it when I hear it.

Once I am finished, I gather my plate and head back inside. The sun has set, and the time has come. Butterflies take up residence in my stomach, fluttering around wildly with razor blade wings. As I get myself ready to leave, I can't help but question my sanity.

Is this the right thing to do? Surely giving oneself to a demon is damning, what good could possibly come of it? I must have lost my mind. I'm making a terrible mistake.

I take nothing with me as I open my door and step out into the chilly night air, startling when I see a man standing at the bottom of the narrow concrete staircase just outside my door. He is staring off in front of him, his gaze empty.

"For centuries, witches have bonded to demons in exchange for power," he explains in a monotone voice, his sightless eyes still staring out at nothing.

He's answering my question. Whoever this demon is, using this stranger's body as an unwilling host, he heard my thoughts and seems to have the answers.

"And what became of them?" I ask, watching him warily as I carefully descend the set of four steps down to the sidewalk.

"Some still live, immortal in their human shell; others transcend and become extraordinary demons, too," he answers, and I can't shake the unsettling feeling talking to a possessed person brings me. As I pass him, he finally turns his gaze to meet my own. I startle again at the unexpected eye contact.

The fear and uncertainty only lasts a few seconds. I remember who I am, who I belong to, and what I harbor inside of me.

"All of them?" I ask, stopping in front of him.

"Some witches grow tired of the mortal world. Sometimes they join their demon in Hell, or retire to their demon's realm for all of eternity."

I have more questions now than I did before I stepped outside my door. Is what he is saying to me true? Witches can either stay here beyond what their human bodies would normally allow, become a demon, or live alongside their bonded demon in Hell or some ungodly heaven?

I watch him for a moment, and shake my head.

A disturbing, unnaturally wide grin spreads across his otherwise expressionless face. It is as if he is trying to mimic a human expression just to soothe me. "He awaits you. He will answer your questions."

I narrow my eyes, and his gaze shifts away from me so he can stare off into nothingness again, his face falling slack.

I bite my lip as I consider what he has said, eager to get to the church and talk to Daemon. Without another word exchanged between us, I turn down the sidewalk and start heading towards the church.

The moon overhead is larger than it usually is, the bright disk cast in umbral shades of red. I keep my eyes on the sky as I walk, trying my best to ignore the possessed people lingering along my path. Stolen bodies and quiet ravens are my companions on the cold, dark walk down the street.

When I finally reach the church, the beautiful stained glass windows are glowing softly with a fiery light as though there are candles still lining the window sills. The old building looms tall and tired, now that this House of God has been fully abandoned. Daemon's presence has chased away what remains of the holy power it once exuded. I know it is still in use by the public, but I get the insistent thought in my mind that God hasn't been here for a very long time.

Is God really dead?The thought bounces around inside my head as I ascend the mottled stone staircase, dodging several deep cracks as I go.

At the top of the stairs is a woman, standing as still as the dead and staring off into the distance. When I approach the church doors, she moves slowly to the side to push one of the heavy doors halfway open. She says nothing as the darkness opens up, beckoning me inside.

I watch her for a few seconds as I pass her by, slipping in between the doors without a word exchanged. It closes behind me immediately, and I am greeted by hundreds of candles lit and placed carefully around the anterior chamber.

The warm, flickering light of a hundred candles illuminates the church. The pews are empty, the altar at the end of the center lane dressed in a heavy black cloth with Daemon's sigil at the center. The polished, white holy cross looms just beyond it.

I wander slowly down the aisle towards the altar, my fingertips brushing along the edges of the rows of pews. I'd call out for Daemon, but I feel him all around me. He's here, in the shadows that fill every corner of the chapel.

When I reach the altar, I lean forward and run my fingers along the lines of his sigil. It matches the one on my dress, and the one on the candle that summoned him to me.

I love him.

Wait, what? Why did that thought pop into my head? I don't love Daemon.

"You will."

His voice echoes around the anterior chamber, and a wave of warm calmness settles over me. With a soft smile on my face, I turn to face where I assume he is standing at the other end of the church.

Shock hits me like a freight train when my eyes adjust to the sight of him descending from a swirling pool of darkness above the center of the church, the shadows that once concealed him from my vision now dripping off of him like ink melting away from stone.

I stumble several steps until my lower back collides with the edge of the altar, my wide eyes roaming the colossal form of a demon far too horrifying for words. He is gargantuan, the bulk of him filling the church and pushing ruthlessly at the very fabric of reality.

The horror of what I am seeing is more than I can bear, and I drop to my knees in reverence for the monstrosity as it creeps inexorably closer, his Hell-born lifeforce radiating off him in oppressive waves.

The demon is a terrifying amalgamation of brutal horns, vicious talons, gnashing fangs and chaotic hellfire. The enormous skull of an owl pressed to his face, shielding my vision from the demonic visage behind it. He is perfect in Hell's design—made in the image of the Devil himself.

He takes one great step towards me, and all at once the demon pulls back and collapses inward like a dying star. Darkness spills out, and from the depths of a dense and endless ether, a shape materializes.

The metamorphosis is violent as he takes another step forward, my eyes affixed to his chest as his rib cage closes in and flesh knits together to contain his black, beating heart. I watch, captivated by the astonishing terror of it, as the diabolic organ vanishes beneath his skin.

There are eyes like two infinite, black voids in a face both recognizable and not. His body is magnificent, laden in thick muscle and sinew, his broad chest marked by demonic runes in black ink. And his arms, dipped in darkness as black as obsidian, carrying those sigils I recognize from when he afforded me just a glimpse of himself back in my altar room.

Three sets of tall, black horns split from his skull to crown his head, the first two taller than the ones behind it, set throughout the lengthy black hair that falls in waves across his forehead.

He is wearing nothing but a pair of loose-fitting black pants, golden thread accenting the material where it hangs low on his narrow hips.

My eyes lift to his, this entity manifested as something in between human and demon, and I'm graced with a wicked grin spreading slowly across his devastatingly handsome face. Lethal fangs accentuate that sinful smile, and I can't help but think that despite his best efforts, he could never look truly human. Reality can only bend so much before it shatters.

"Does this form please you, little witch? For it is one of many." Dark laughter rumbles from him, and I swallow against my inability to speak.

What I just witnessed would destroy any normal person's sanity, just as he had promised.

"Daemon." I finally manage to speak, forcing the words from my trembling lips. He walks towards me, extending a dark hand.

"Come, little witch. Let me soothe you with my touch."

I reach out, my petite hand slipping into his, desperate to feel the unyielding domination of his dark power. As much as he still frightens me, I cannot resist the safety and protection his touch affords me. I don't want to feel afraid.

Black talons graze my skin as he grips me firmly and pulls me against his body. Serenity washes over me the moment we connect, soothing my rattled nerves and loosening the words caught in my throat. My eyes drop to his chest, one hand lifting to trace the complex markings etched into his skin. When my eyes lift to his, I drown in the great, dark depths I find there.

"Your true form… it—"

Daemon's mouth descends on mine, one hand slipping into the waves of my hair to hold me captive as his languid kiss devours the words that die on my lips. His tongue sweeps against the seam of my mouth, and he coaxes me to let him in.

I do. Of course I do. With a soft sigh, my lips part and I kiss him back. My tongue grazes the tip of a fang, and the coppery taste of blood blooms between us. He moans, deep and low, licking at the nick on my tongue as if there is no greater taste in this world.

When he finally releases his grip on me, my eyes are half-lidded and the heavy haze of lust has taken hold of me. Staring up into his half human, half demon face no longer leaves me feeling unsettled.

He will be mine, in all his forms. My Great Prince of Hell.

His hands fall to my hips, one slipping beneath the silken fabric of my gown through the slit, stepping into me to guide me back towards the altar.

I'm not ready. "Wait," I tell him, taking a deep breath to bring myself a little more clarity.

"Ask your questions," he says, his whisper-soft voice stroking my senses as it often does. Leaving one of his hands on my hip, he takes a step back to give me a little more space to speak without his intense influence clouding my mind.

"I need to know what will happen to me when I die."

"What do you desire?" he asks, a slight tilt to his head as he regards me carefully.

"What, you don't already know?"

He laughs, the sound dark and musical, it seems out of place coming from the mouth of a demon. "I have learned that humans absorb information better when they have conversations that include equal exchange."

I narrow my eyes and don't answer him for several long seconds, contemplating his words. He knows everything, he has the gift of omniscience.

"Are you God?"

His laughter returns, but this time it is maniacal and inhuman. I flinch at the sound of it. "I may as well be. God has been dead for eons. We are our own gods now."

Tension spreads across my forehead as I contemplate what he said, and thankfully he doesn't seem to mind the stretch of silence between us. What he tells me of God is a lot to digest. "There must be angels?"

"Some have fallen. Many are quiet, drifting up among the stars."

Another stretch of silence as I think carefully about what to ask next. The weight of what he is saying is really, really heavy.

"Who is in control now?" I ask, hoping he understands what I am trying to ask him.

"You are. We are. Whoever gains power, holds it, until they don't." He shrugs, as though this information is well known despite humanity's ignorance to everything supernatural.

"What happens to people when they die?" I ask, getting to the root of my original inquiry.

He watches me for a minute, as though trying to determine the best way to say what he needs to say. "Those that do not bind themselves to a non-human entity fade away into oblivion."

"They become nothing? Gone forever?"

He nods.

I don't know how to respond. I don't want to disappear into nothingness. I don't want to cease to exist.

"And those that bond to a demon?"

Daemon reaches out to brush a long strand of hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. It's such a human gesture, it surprises me. "Whatever you desire."

I narrow my eyes, frustrated with his evasive answer. My mouth opens as I prepare to ask for specifics, but he continues speaking before I can get out a single word.

"You can stay on earth for however long you desire, little witch. When your magic is fully awakened, and connects to my own, it will keep you alive and well. You will never age, you will never fall sick, and you will not die until you are ready."

Immortality. The direct consequence of giving myself to him.

"When you are ready to depart the earth, I will guide you where you want to go. You can rule by my side as my witch Queen, or you can reign in Hell as a demon born under my sigil. When you grow tired, when you need peace, you can rest in my realm for the rest of eternity, or... until you get bored." He smiles with that, hoping the touch of humor at the end of his explanation brings me a little comfort.

Binding myself to him is the only way to avoid fading away into nothingness, the only way my spirit lives on. Without God's tether, we all drift away.

Insight fills me with warmth, and I know the gift of it is from my demon prince.

"Your realm?"

He nods. "Like a heaven, but unreachable to anyone other than you and I."

"I can go there?"

"Whenever you desire, for however long you desire."

I don't want to be alone, I don't want to fade away.

"You'll never be alone. You haven't been, because I've known you long before you found me."

We stand there in silence as I consider all of the things he has told me. I am hesitating, because one thing isn't clear. True to his nature, he answers before I can even ask the question.

"I will protect you, teach you, and take care of you from now until oblivion claims every realm and existence within it. I will love you, and give you all that you desire, all you must do is let me in."

We stand there, facing one another, for several long moments before I finally speak.

"How do we complete the bond?" I ask him, my voice quiet within the dark, dimly lit space of the church.

"Sacrilege," he says simply. I turn my head and look at the altar at my back, then lift my eyes to regard the heavy white cross looming over us.

"Sacrilege?" I whisper, turning back to face him. He steps into me, his other arm lifting to wrap around me. He pushes against me until my back presses to the front of the holy altar. His head lowers, that blasphemous mouth brushing against my own.

"Desecration of the holy ground He once blessed," he confirms, taking my lips in a devouring kiss. As his tongue sweeps against mine, I melt into his arms. He is warmth and safety, a dark decadence that promises rapture and sin. I am lost to his touch, his dark energy radiating out from him and calling to me in a way that leaves me helpless to deny him any longer.

As though I were made just for him, like we are two pieces of the same damned puzzle.

"You were made for me, Selene," he whispers as he pulls away, his hands lowering to grip my thighs. The claws adorning his fingers dig in just enough to spark little ripples of pain, before his skilled hands massage the sensation away.

I whimper softly as he drops his head to kiss my neck, his lips leaving heat in their wake as they move from my shoulder to that soft spot below my ear. My head drops back, giving him all the access he desires, and my body thrums with an arousal so deep I can't escape it.

"You are magnificent, little witch," he groans, his unusually long tongue trailing up my throat until he breaks the contact to take my mouth again. The kiss is feverish and hungry, like we are both starved and desperate for one another.

His hands grip my ass and he lifts me up effortlessly, depositing me to sit on the altar. I look up into the darkness of his solid black eyes, awestruck by the sinful smile on his face. His fingers drag down across my thighs slowly, before slipping between them to pull them apart.

"Daemon," I moan his name as he pulls the bottom of my dress up until it gathers at my hips, exposing me to him. He kisses my mouth fiercely before he drops to his knees, pulling me to the edge of the altar and burying his face against my aching pussy.

He kisses me there the way he kissed my mouth, all lips and tongue, worshipful and ravenous. My head falls back on a desperate cry, and I slam my palms down against the surface of the altar to stop myself from falling.

He draws his lengthy tongue up and down along my slit, before placing long, drawing kisses against my clit. My hips buck as I moan, heat pulsing through me from where his mouth feasts.

The onslaught of pleasure is so intense that it steals my sanity, turning me into a wanton creature here on sacred ground, placed atop this altar like a sacrifice.

He knows exactly how to fuck me with his mouth, his demon tongue a dark magic I won't ever recover from. "Oh, Daemon," I moan as I shiver and shake, desperate for everything he is offering me.

The rush towards orgasm is so unyielding, I can do nothing but endure it and hope I survive. The wave of soul crushing bliss crashes into me with an obliterating intensity, and in the throes of my orgasm I wonder if I'm dying. Every atom of my body feels explosive, like he doused me in gasoline and took a flamethrower to my soul.

The pleasure hits me in multiple waves, and he kisses and soothes each one from my body. When I finally come down from the unimaginable high, I glance down at him to see him watching me. His pitch black eyes are locked on me, and I watch as he drags his tongue from bottom to top, making me shudder as an echo of the orgasm strikes me.

It is then that I see the shadows from his lips, physically connecting us like dark webs. He blows across my heated flesh, and the shadows retreat inside of me. I gasp when I realize I can feel his power inside of me, there between my thighs, reaching and stroking.

The archaic inferno at the base of my soul calls to the tendrils of dark energy his mouth left behind, and I know without a shred of doubt that the process has begun; this demon is binding my soul to him. Weaving the unbreakable threads of his dark power through the very essence of my being, in a way that can never be undone.

The arousal doesn't dissipate, it grows. I rub my thighs together as my need for him rises to a fever pitch. I want him so damn badly, I can't think straight. His essence is addictive, and for the first time in my entire existence, I want a demon to fuck me. To own me. To keep me, and never let me go.

I watch as he rises to his feet, my bottom lip caught between my teeth, unfolding in front of me like a dark God. His hands move to his waist, where he pulls the golden thread loose and drops his pants to his feet.

My eyes fall to his cock, jutting out from his waist. He is male perfection, built for sin. He is thick and long, and sure to fill me and hit as deep as my body can stand. He steps into me, forcing his way between my thighs, one arm snaking around my waist to pull me against his strong body.

I gasp as I feel him slide up along my pelvis, his hard cock pressing along my lower belly. My head lifts and I meet his dark gaze, my arousal spiraling through me.

"Give yourself to me, little witch," he says, his otherworldly voice echoing throughout the church. The candles lining the anterior chamber of the church flicker wildly, threatening to combust. "Let me in."

Just like that, I can feel his darkness wash over my entire body, oppressive and forceful, seeking entrance. I groan as the magic within me sparks bright, desperate to connect with his darkness and break free of its chains.

I want to let him in, I do, but I don't understand how. Without a doubt, I know what will happen when I do. My power will awaken and fill me like a dam breaking free, and the rush of his darkness weaving tightly with mine will be a pleasure unlike anything I've ever known.

"Let me in, Selene," he groans, taking a step back so he can guide the head of his cock to the swollen entrance of my pussy.

My head falls backwards and I arch my back, pushing my hips towards him. As he slides inside of me by the smallest increment, heat roars to life at the base of my spine.

I cry out at the sensation of my soul igniting, while the walls and foundation of the church begin to shudder and quake. The demon's energy is coming in blast waves as our bodies connect, pushing at the doors of my soul.

"Selene," he growls my name as his head drops to my throat, his teeth grazing my oversensitive skin making me whimper and moan in response. "Give yourself to me."

I want him deeper. This feels so right. I need him inside of me, in every way I can take him.

"My soul is yours," I confess, my voice a prayer on this sacred ground. I moan as I feel the barrier between us shatter, his dark energy spilling inside me and flooding me with his essence.

His pelvis slams forward and he fills me completely, one hand on the altar while the other controls my hips. Mind-shattering pleasure surges, and I am lost to him. He fucks me like he owns me, and with his claim laid on my soul for the rest of time, he does.

The feel of him inside of me in every way imaginable is more than I can fathom. He's in my body, in my mind, pressing down against the very root of my being. I can feel him wrapping around me with every thrust of his hips.

He is pouring his darkness inside of me, this demon infiltrating my soul to lay claim to the power hidden within me. It is then that I feel the full force of my magic, trapped behind some kind of barrier, pressing against him as he bears down on what chains it there.

"I need more, Selene," he growls against my ear as he thrusts relentlessly inside of me, the blinding pleasure his body brings mine enough to steal my focus. "It will feel like you're dying, but you need to let me all the way in."

"How!?" I cry out, frustrating building as the feeling of the immense pressure inside of me builds to dizzying heights. I need him to free me from my own prison before this destroys me. Desperate, I cling to him, my nails digging into the sun-kissed skin of his shoulder, and the obsidian skin on his muscular forearm.

"Call my name, little witch," he commands, the blast waves of his energy crashing into me like the waves of an ocean hurricane upon a fragile shore.

"What is it!?" I plead, the pressure becoming cataclysmic. I know if he doesn't break me free, I'll self-destruct like my soul is a nuclear bomb.

"You know my name. It is written on your soul. Call to me!" he commands, thrusting inside of me with a violence that pulls me back from the edge of insanity. We are both so close, but I'm the one that is pushed to the very edge of what my body can take.

My eyes squeeze shut, and I focus just like he taught me to.

His name. It's here. I feel it. It surrounds his sigil, the one that is being burned into my very soul.

S t o l a s.

Stolas.

"STOLAS!" I scream, my voice fracturing into something unrecognizable, as a ragged moan breaks free from him. My head falls back yet again as an orgasm crashes into me with the force of a star going supernova. He comes, too, because his power pours out of him full force on a guttural groan.

Like an unholy battering ram, Stolas breaks the spiritual dam that holds me back, and it feels as though my soul is splintering and disintegrating as the tides of Hell rush through me. My mouth opens on a soundless scream, a brilliant red-orange glow spilling from my lips as the ancient fire is set loose within me.

Stolas and I crash into each other, like two galaxies merging on a battlefield. The divine threads of my magic collide with the dark hell of his, twining together to become something greater. Something more than Heaven and Hell.

The only thing keeping me from self destructing right here in this church and taking the world with me, is Stolas. His dark power has replaced my chains, rooting me to him, giving me an unshakable foundation to stand on.

Our combined power is monumental. Omniscience awakens within me, and I am suddenly aware of what this all means. Stolas is the hellfire, and I am the cosmic winds. He is all the power of the primeval earth and the hell at its core, and I am the universe made flesh.

Through his connection to me, he will ascend and become a God. The realms of Hell and Earth will belong to him. So will my realm of magic, the one beyond the stars, the arcane divinity that belongs to every true witch.

My eyes open wide as I watch the candles around the church roar to life, pulled towards my own internal power. I feel the fire spill from my fingers, my lips, my eyes, my nose, and engulf the entire church until everything around me is ablaze.

Stolas' dark laughter erupts around me as he holds me in his embrace, watching proudly as the fire pouring out of me begins burning the church to the ground.

The newly awakened magic inside of me is more than my human body can hold, and before I know it, I descend into the stark blackness of unconsciousness.

My last vision, one of fire and destruction, and the grinning demon who has bound my soul to him forever.