The girl lays unmoving on the ground, flawless white sheets billowing out around her motionless body. It is dark, with moonlight shining dull from the windows. Her face is covered, all but orange hair peeking out. She appears sleeping, though she is not. A slithering snake crawls it's way up her arm, yet she remains completely still.
"What isss your wisssh," a voice hisses softly, yet venomously.
"I want," comes the girl's voice in reply, "I want my revenge."
"Are you willing?" The snake asks, slithering closer to her neck, wrapping itself around her throat.
She wheezes. "Yes," she croaks out.
The snake tightens around her throat yet she still does not struggle against it. "Sssso, you know of the contracts between humansss and demonsss? You know of the consssistencesss?"
"Yes," She says forcefully. "I accept!" She screams out.
The snake remains quiet, dancing around she neck, then untangling itself from it's death choke. It moves away from her body, crawling into the shadows. There is a sound, and the voice that comes next sounds like it is coming from higher up, as if from a person now. "You have a strong soul," It says, "It will make one hell of a feast."
Pain etches itself into the girl's stomach. She shrieks, withering in pain, her back arched. She continues to howl, darkness creeping into her vision. The voice whispers one last thing before she blacks out: "I accept as well."

I waken to sunlight streaming in through the windows. There is a block in my memory, and I can't remember going to sleep last night. I'm lying on the floor. How did I get on the floor? I sit up, a sharp pain suddenly on my stomach. The sheets I sleep on are blood-splattered scarlet, blood dripping from my stomach, where my bellybutton is. I smear away the red fluid until there is a visible tattoo that I never remember having. Its is a six-point star inside a thick-lined triangle. I run my hand over the purple ink, but it is in fact not ink, not even a tattoo, but like a scar, branding my skin.
"What... the hell?" I mutter.
"A sign of our contract," I voice from the shadows of the golden curtains says.
"Who's there?" I say. "Show yourself!"
A figure steps out into the light. A tall, slender man with dirty blonde hair. His dark blue eyes shine mischievously.
"Who are you?" I ask, my tone demanding. "What are you doing in my chambers? Tell me now!"
"My Lady," He says, a hand placed over where his heart would be. He takes a slight bow. "Please forgive me for the intrusion, but I prepared your morning tea."
That's when I notice that he holds a platter in his other hand. Atop it sits a steaming teapot and a tea cup on a saucer. I get distracted by the intriguing, fancy design on the pot and matching cup. The way the black and white swirls together, yet kept apart by the barely noticeable thin lines of gold. I shake my head.
"I do not drink tea this early in the morning," I say, "And do not call me your Lady! Now tell me who you are this instant!"
"If you do not wish to by called 'My Lady', I shan't call you that. Do you prefer 'Your Majesty'?"
"Quit avoiding my questions!" I shout, pointing an accusing index finger in the man's direction, "Who are you, or so help me, I will call the police!"
He doesn't reply, only walks towards me at a rapid pace. I shrink back, backing away. "Stay away for me!"
He comes closer and closer, his hand outstretched to grab me. I close my eyes shut. "Don't lay a finger on me, you creep!" I shout. I expect a cold hand to clamp around me at any second, but nothing happens. I slowly open my eyes only to see the man's icy blue gaze on me, inches from my face. He's bent down to my level on the floor.
I stare back, unflinching. He straitens himself and moves away, taking another bow and saying, "As you wish." He meets my eyes again. "Your Majesty."
We remain in silence. I stand, holding my sheet over my chest to feel more clothed than my thin sleepwear permits.
"Very peculiar," I say at last. "You refuse to tell me who you are, yet you treat my like I'm your master, obeying my every wish. Why?"
"You are my master," He replies. "And I cannot answer you on who I am because you have yet to name me."
"Named you? Like an owner names a pet? That's a repulsive idea."
"So you wish to give me free will over my name choice?" He asks.
"I see no reason why anyone should name another human being as if they were their slave. And I have no idea as to why you insist that I am your master."
"You honestly don't remember?" He says. "Our contract?"
"Contract?" I ask. "I don't know the slightest of what you are talking about."
He removes a white glove from his left hand, revealing a scar that matches the one found on my midsection.
Finally, the memories click into place, and I remember.
"I...I remember now." I say shakily. "You're a demon. We made a contract." I lift my shirt to reveal the scar on my stomach. "And you're going to help me seek my revenge."
"Quite correct, Your Majesty." He replies. "I live to serve you. And once our contract is complete, your soul shall be mine." His lips curl into a small, wry smile, almost evil.
"Fine," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "My life is meaningless anyway, but to exact my revenge upon my sister. You"re free to have my soul when that is complete."
"That is no longer your decision to make. Your soul will be mine, no matter if you wanted it to be or not."
I snort. "Well it is okay. Now, the matter of your name; what did your previous master call you?"
"Ashura." He answers.
"Then you will continue being Ashura. Welcome to the Midford Manor."