There are many halls and many doors within the Citadel, doors that lead to others levels and doors that lead to death. Doors that lead to libraries and throne rooms and doors which go no where in particular but right back from where you came. Doors stretching endlessly through the dark and endless halls, calling to you, ensnaring you…never letting you go.

Behind one such door, lay an empty room. A human…a normal human could walk in here and feel nothing but the hairs on the back of their neck stand on end. But to a sorcerer, this rooms is alive with unseen magic. For it has had many owners and five times as many uses.

Mozenrath knew it was the only place in the Citadel suitable.

The floors under him were solid black marble, the walls like wise. No windows or holes through which to escape. The door bolted shut quite tightly. Mozenrath double checked the locks and nodded, satisfied that they were indeed closed. He had not allowed Xerxes to join him for this. The little eel had an annoying way of mucking up complicated spells such as this one.

Only a few items cluttered up an other wise empty space. A point of thick red liquid, and dark black feather. The rest of what was needed was internal.

Mozenrath sat down cross-legged in the exact middle of the room and closed his eyes, forcing calm on his body. He had made sure to memorize the spells procedures so he wouldn't have to bother with the heavy texts. Truth be told, he was a little wary to have them in here with him.

He had stumbled across the yellowed sheets while cleaning out Destain's old laboratory. It was in an unholy disarray of books, dust, odd and deadly objects, and manuscripts courtesy of the old vulture himself. Mozenrath had been reluctant to go through the mess, but now he was pleased he had.

The old bastard was always good at this aspect of magic. Destain had possessed a penchant for summoning spells, elemental, daemon, succubus. Anything he could control fed his thirst for dominance.

But the papers themselves made him nervous. He had been closely inspecting them when a red sigil appeared in candlelight, almost seeming to hiss at him. Mozenrath was determined to go through with the spell despite appearances, but he thought it best preformed from memory.

Mozenrath expanded his chest and contracted it again, using old tourniquets to control his breathing. When he could feel the magic of the room responding to his presence, he twitched his gloved finger, pulling the objects towards him. He lifted the feather, dipped it in the pot and, with an artists flair, painted a perfect sphere around himself on the ground.

Bound by blood

And set in stone

I call to thee

Thy power owned

He whispered the incantation as the raven feather moved quickly in his hands, drawing out the sigils around his circles. Ancient scrawled pictured, wickedly curved in and out like a python round it's prey.

Pulled forth by malice

Drawn to fear

I shall command

Thy presence here

Mozenrath felt the power sweeping to turn around him within the circle. Little static charges began to set off, snapping and contorting as the power grew. Mozenrath chuckled and touched the wound on his hand. He had drawn his own blood for this spell as a way to ensure the creature would be forever bound to him. Now he could feel the torn flesh beating it's own tattoo against his muscle. It was coming, whatever it was.

Your visage wrought

Through my demand

So all may bow

To he who stands

A roar split the air and Mozenrath watched as the sigils round his body glowed red. He took the knife and backed away, escaping the circle just in time to see a massive bulge in the center growing outward as though to split. It swelled again and the shape of a huge, clawed hand stretched the surface as through it were mud.

Mozenrath grinned maliciously and raised his hands, pointing the palms to the center of the circle.

Through writhing body

Thy passage born

Less wax and wane

Have vanished lord

A roar split the ground as a figure, tall and lithe, began to pull itself through the maelstrom of power. Mozenrath blinked against the bright light as it stumblingly stood, trying to gain balance on this new plain. The face suddenly turned towards Mozenrath and tilted slowly, viewing him through glowing red eyes.

A twinge of fear made Mozenrath hesitate, but only for an instant. He thrust out his arms, commanding his own blue black flame to challenge any thoughts of disobedience.

Then back through tunnel

Shall you fall

The mighty beaten

And hold no thrall

A ear splitting sound filled and room as the swirl of magic broke, sending everything flying. Mozenrath lifted his arms and felt a horrible burning against his flesh, similar to the kind his gauntlet had first released on him. He opened his eyes and watched as the patterns from the circle began to scratch themselves deep in the flesh of his upper arms. "What?" he visualized the manuscript, trying to remember where this was pointed out.

Before he could think straight, a long hand reached out from the circle and gingerly touched his face. Mozenrath, shock, snapped around and sent a wave of power at the sphere. The creature within recoiled dramatically and tilted it's head again, trying to view Mozenrath.

Mozenrath quickly regained his baring. "Do not touch me daemon!" he snapped in outrage and stood tall. He dusted off the spots on his arm where patterns were now imbedded and scoffed. This must be the binding mentioned. He smiled and began to slowly circle the being, careful to stay outside of the drawn line.

"I am Mozenrath." He said by way of introduction. "Your new Lord and master."

The glow began to subside and Mozenrath began to make out the daemons feature. He stood, an impressive foot taller than the sorcerer, and viewed his new master through questioning demonic eyes. "I am…Diriel…you are the one who called me here?"

Mozenrath found the gaze strangely unsettling. "Yes." He answered. The creature drew forward and Mozenrath had to forcefully hold back a gasp.

The sight before him could not possibly be a daemon! It was too beautiful. The body, tall and finely wrought, was the color of polished gold. Hair, white as snow hung in thick locks down to his knees from a face that looked more angelic that sulfurous. Soft lips opened in a winning smile as the thing rose a hand out to Mozenrath.

The young sorcerer came back to his senses with a sudden jerk. He had strayed too close to the circle. And he had seen the fangs. A double set like wolf jaws with two pointed teeth on the top and bottom of the daemons jaws. He shook his head and looked again, the stunning beauty giving way to the rest of the 'mans' features. Two black horns, curved gracefully backwards against his skull. The tips of his fingers looked like nails at a casual glance, but when Mozenrath looked closer he could tell that they curved wickedly towards him.

To top it all off, the daemon was nude, giving Mozenrath a shameless view of every inch of him.

But Mozenrath caught himself and straightened his clothing. "You are indeed a rare being…Diriel." He paused as if contemplating. "Is that your real name?"

The daemon smiled enigmatically. "As real as anything else you may choose to call me."

Mozenrath nodded. Daemons didn't really have names. They were usually called something by the populace or given a title due to their deeds. He would have to look up this Diriel later and see what he could find. "So then…what do you do exactly?"

Diriel scoffed. "Surely you know? You wouldn't have raised me without knowing what I am."

Mozenrath glared. "I know what you are!" He hated games like this. Why did interdimensional creature always play mind games? "But what do you do? Are you a war lord? A baron? Do you command other daemons? What?"

The daemon stretched out lazily, like a cat in the sun, and yawned. "Well now. I'll just keep that my little secret shall I. It's really irresponsible of you to raise a daemon without properly finding out what we are capable of first." He tsked and shook a finger at Mozenrath through the sphere. "Naughty naughty boy."

Mozenrath felt his face grow warm. "The manuscript didn't exactly say."

"And yet you followed the instructions like a good little pupil." Diriel chuckled. "How old are you kid? Have you even completed your training yet?"

Mozenrath grit his teeth. If there was anything he hated more than being treated like an idiot, it was being treated like a child. "Listen you me you piece of brimstone." He snarled out. "I am your Master. You will pay me proper respect!"

"Shall I? I don't remember the spell saying anything about me having to respect you, handsome."

Mozenrath opened his mouth to say something and suddenly stopped short. Had he just been called handsome? He looked at the daemon and was caught off guard by a sudden wink through long eye lashes back at him. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. "You…you're a lust daemon…" he whispered.

"More clever than your predecessor. I applaud you for that sorcerer." Dirielrose and came as close to the edge of the circle as he could without touching it. "So you must be that little kitten he went on about…Mozenrath."

"You…you knew Destain?" Mozenrath asked.

"In more than one way." Diriel smiled. "Though he wasn't half the catch you are sweetie." He reached forward with a clawed hand to stroke Mozenrath's cheek, but the human man pulled away from his grip. Diriel sighed. "I did what I am commanded to do by my very existence." He wrinkled up his nose in disgust. "The old fart was just perverted enough to enjoy it, not stupid enough too late me stay."

"Stay? Ah yes, the stipulations of the spell." Mozenrath scratched his chin. According to the spell, the demon would return to it's domain if it's master disappeared for one full wax and wane of the moon. A whole month. "But if you wish to stay, why are you telling me this?"

"You raised me. You keep me bound within this circle. I have no choice but to answer your questions." Diriel shrugged. "I can avoid them if you are not specific enough. But all daemons are bound by truth unless we are able to freely roam or our summoner orders us to lie."

"Interesting." Mozenrath hummed and smiled. "Perhaps your not entirely useless to me." He would have to think about this. All daemons were clever but a lust daemon could be more dangerous than a thousand others combined. They were utterly ruthless in pursuit of their desires. He had summoned one up now, keeping it would prove difficult but as long as he didn't release Diriel from the circle until he was sure of his control that wouldn't be too much of a problem. "Very well then." Mozenrath walked to the edge of the line. "I have some research to complete. I'll be back for you in the morning."

"Wait a tick." Diriel came up to Mozenrath's face. "Your just going to leave me here then?" he hissed.

Mozenrath smiled. "You don't like being trapped? Tough. I'm not stupid enough to let you loose…but your too powerful a being for me to let go back." A sudden screech blew his hair back and Mozenrath backed away. Diriel's eyes were glowing and his fangs gleamed at the end of his lips.

"You play a dangerous game wizard…" he warned then smiled as though nothing had been intended by the sudden viciousness of his appearance. "But maybe you're good at playing. We'll see." Diriel reclined on the floor again and blew Mozenrath a flirtatious kiss.

Mozenrath, in a show of audaciousness that surprised even him, reached his forward and pretended to catch it. "Yes we shall." He grinned. "I'll be in the library if you need anything." He called back mockingly as he unlocked the doors and headed out. "Have a lovely night."

Diriel waited until the sound of footsteps had stopped echoing and chuckled softly in the darkness. "This is almost too easy." He whispered and lifted his fingers. Between them was a single, ebony black hair, curled at the end. He sniffed it and smiled. "See you soon Mozenrath…" he closed his eyes dreamily. "…my love."