On October 22nd in the year of 1869, a miracle came into the world in the form of a little baby infant girl that a Noble couple had awaited for, for 5 months. But, with this miracle also came a horrific tragedy. A tragedy that would change everyone in the Rochester family for the rest of their lives.

In the bedroom of the parents on the luscious, bloodstained bed laid the lifeless corpse of the mother, her brown eyes dull and empty of the soul that resided in her just moments before, her small fragile body laid limp and cold almost like a delicate baby doll. No matter how hard the doctor and nurses tried, Ms. Emily Rochester was dead, and would not be coming back.

Next to her sat her husband who held her with a gentle but firm grip against his chest, tears flowing down his face with his eyes squinted shut in anguish and grief. He couldn't, wouldn't, believe that his beloved, the woman that he would have sworn his life for, the one who just gave birth to their first child was gone. She left without saying goodbye. And she left before he could tell her he loved her. She did not even get to see their daughter's face.

He opened his eyes half-heartedly and glanced over to the corner of the room where the heir to Rochester family laid silent, but ever still lively. At least for now. Because, as if the loss of his wife wasn't enough (no, never enough) his daughter was sickly and was in high risk of dying before she even got to see the world through her new born eyes. The doctor told him after the exclamation of the mother's death, that the baby had a preterm birth and low birth weight. Which meant that she had come too early and weighed too little. There was a very low chance that she would survive, leaving Mr. John Rochester all alone in the world. His wife and child taken from him.

He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't be able to live without his beloved and child. He wouldn't even make it to New Year's Eve. He wouldn't be able to take the loneliness and grief that would overcome him and drown him in misery till he finally left to be with his family up in heaven. He didn't want that. He couldn't handle it.

But, what could he do? The doctor had tried with all his might to save the infant, all to no avail. It was unavoidable. Fate. Destiny. A cruel and devastating destiny but one none the less.

The doctor and nurses left the room to give the mourning father privacy as well as to go and summon the Undertaker. So there sat the sobbing man crushed and pushed into a dark corner of his mind in misery. His life was over. Finished.

But, as he sat there, he noticed a shadow hiding in the back of the room, standing in front of the billowing curtains. As he looked closer, he saw that the shadow was actually a man watching him with unnatural, and disturbing bright fuchsia red eyes. The stranger approached with a sickening white-toothed smile. Then, when the man came close enough that the father could reach out and touch him, the man stopped and asked, "You summoned me?"

Mr. Rochester blinked his bloodshot eyes in confusion. "W-what?"

The strange man still held his captivating smile. "You have summoned me with your grief. You may not have consciously called out to me, but the calling of your soul lead me here. There is something you want from me that I, and only I, can give you."

The father thought for but a moment then asked, "Are you a demon? Like they tell of in the old wives' tales? The ones that said demons come from the dark of night and grant wishes for the cost of your own soul?"

"I suppose that I am, sir." The demon's grin grew wider in amusement.

"So…You can do anything that I ask of you?"

"For the price of your soul, yes."

It did not take long before the father decided. "You can take my soul. I don't care. I have no need of it, if it means I have to live without my family. I want you to…save my daughter. She's dying, and I…want her to live a long and happy life." Silent tears slithered down his cheeks as he spoke, staring over to where his baby girl laid dying.

"Is that all?" The demon asked.

"Yes."

"Then so be it." The demon first grabbed hold of the man's right hand and the father gasped, holding in a scream as the demon burned a pentagram symbol into his flesh. Then, the dark creature strode over to where the daughter laid in a baby cradle swaddled in blankets. He placed the tip of his index finger on top of her forehead and released dark energy, power, into her, giving her strength and improving her health tremendously. She started crying and whining, much more livelier than before. The baby was going to live.

Once he was done, the demon removed his finger and turned back to the father. "Your daughter shall live a long, healthy life."

The man stared up at the devil spawn in awe and shock. "R-really? She'll live?"

The demon only responded with a nod.

And the father, for once that night, cried tears of joy. His daughter would live. She will grow up in this world and be happy. He really did it.

The dark creature walked slowly back to where the man still sat on the bed, ready to end the deal. And as he walked, Mr. Rochester stared at his little girl with a slight smile on his face and thought, 'My only regret would be that I won't be able to see her on her wedding day.' Then, without warning, his soul was devoured.