I've always been fascinated by the darker side of the world - demonology, spirits, monsters, the occult. Ever since I was a kid, I devoured every book I could find, drawn to the mysteries hidden in the shadows. But when I was twelve, my curiosity got the better of me. What started as an innocent game with a ouija board went horribly wrong. Instead of summoning a spirit, I called forth a demon - an ancient, mysterious being from the depths of Hell.
My fingers trembled on the edge to the planchette, my mouth dry and eyes fixed to the board. Unsure of what to do next I waited for the destruction I'd read about, but when it didn't come instead of trying to close off the connection, I asked "What's your name?"
The planchette moved to No.
"Will you kill me?"
The planchette moved to Yes.
My heart leapt up to my throat as I desperately looked around my room - searching for a sign, any indication at all, of my imminent death. But there was none.
I asked, "Will I die today?"
The planchette moved to No.
"Will I die soon?" I asked more desperately.
The planchette didn't move for a long time. I wondered if this was hesitation or torture. After what seemed like an eternity it slowly, hesitantly moved to No.
Over the next four years, something unexpected and peculiar began to form between us - a strange and almost inexplicable friendship, forged in the shadows of secrecy (me from my parents and him from his Lord Satan). It wasn't a typical bond, but rather one that grew out of whispered confessions, shared trust, and an unspoken understanding that seemed to transcend reason. Every interaction felt like a step deeper into a labyrinth I couldn't quite navigate, yet somehow it all felt natural, as though we were connected by invisible threads beyond my comprehension. In the beginning, I believed I had some semblance of control over the darkness that had always fascinated me, a world I had spent years idolising from a distance. I thought I could dance on the edge of it without falling in, that I understood its rules. But one night, it became glaringly clear how wrong I had been. The illusion of control was just that - an illusion.
That night, a blood moon hung high above my home on All Hallows' Eve. My mysterious demon friend told me that it was coming a long time ago - and he told me how to prepare for it. Tonight, we'd finally meet in person. Tonight, I would open a gate to Hell.
The ingredients, hard sought, were mixed in all the right bowls. The glyphs were painted perfectly over a custom altar that I carved from the wood of a dead oak felled by lightning. I'd transcribed from the ouija board all the ancient words I needed onto a piece of parchment with ink made from a squid, the blood of a horned owl and three drops of my tears shed at the exact moment of orgasm.
I even took off my pendant, just like he asked, so it wouldn't interfere with the ritual and put on the very specific outfit and make-up he requested (which is probably just what he thinks I'll look hot in, and he was right, I look very hot). I check myself in the mirror to make sure everything is ready before I kneel in front of the altar and light the candles he sent, which somehow smell like… horny?
I pull out the parchment from my lace bra and begin the ritual.
As I spoke the incantation I felt the words begin to pull, on their own, out from between my lips. I tried to stop them, but couldn't. The words came stronger, faster and from deeper within me. As tears trickled down my cheeks a shimmering light cut open the space between me and the altar. It spread open into a diamond and from it, a demon from Hell appeared.
My excitement faltered when I saw the expression on his face - cold and distant. This demon was different from the one I knew, more ruthless, more dangerous. Without warning, he stabbed me through the heart with a blood-red dagger. I felt a shudder of pain and pleasure erupt from my chest as the air shimmered with heat and the ground cracked beneath us, revealing the fiery chasm of Hell. The demon's grip tightened around my wrist, his sharp claws digging into my flesh, and though my heart thundered in terror, there was a spark of defiance still alive in me.
I wasn't supposed to be here. I was a mortal soul blessed with the power to feel the supernatural and occasionally speak with them. I was meant for more than this short life. But as the demon who had dragged me to the edges of Hell's domain pulled me further in, he stopped. His crimson eyes were no longer cold - there was something deeper there. Something that felt almost… human.
As the landscape of Hell unfolded before me, a twisted canvas of fire and shadows, I turned back just in time to see my lifeless body twisted in a pool of blood in front of what I now know was my sacrificial altar. I wonder if any of it, the altar, the outfit, the words… if any of it was to summon a portal - or was it all just part of the sacrifice? Then, the demon rubbed a yellow crystal on the back of his wrist and the whole gruesome scene disappeared as the diamond shut with a magical snap - leaving me feeling foolish and confused.
The skies bled crimson and the landscape was littered with volcanoes topped with dripping orbs of lava. Each volcano overflowed into countless rivers, lakes and waterfalls of lava which made the air unbearably hot. In the distance, the tower of what could only be Satan's throne loomed, its sharp silhouette cutting through the new-dead haze of my mind.
"Let me go," I demanded, twisting in his grip. His torn coat billowed behind him, creating a gust of searing wind around my thighs, but he didn't release me.
"I can't," he growled, his voice low and rough, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. "You don't understand what's at stake."
"I understand enough!" I spat back, feeling my fear threaten to overwhelm me. "You're planning to offer me up as some kind of sacrifice. To Satan. For what? To please him? To keep yourself in his favour?"
He paused, a flicker of pain crossing his features. That caught me off guard. I expected cruelty, indifference, even rage. But pain?
"Do you think I fucking want this?" he snarled, though there was an edge of anguish in his tone. "Do you think this is what I desire?"
My heart skipped a beat. There was more to him than I thought - or perhaps…
I yanked my hand free and pushed him hard. A look of shock filled his yellow and red eyes and he took a stumbling step, his tail whipped behind him as he righted himself. He looked tortured, his fiery eyes dimming slightly. It was then that I noticed the white marks on his face and body - scars, marks of something lost - something irreparable.
"You…" I began, hesitating. "What is this really about?"
The demon turned his gaze to the horizon. Silence stretched between us as the fires of Hell flickered below. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer, burdened with something he had never intended to share.
"It wasn't supposed to be this way -" he said, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes "Fucking Christ on a stick." He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned his head away.
"It's you, isn't it?" I stepped closer, "My no-name mystery demon."
"Yeah, it's me." He sighed, "But I'm not a demon, I'm an Imp okay?"
I was flooded quickly, first excitement from having guessed who it was, happiness from finally getting to meet him, then a sudden and all consuming rage for how he betrayed me.
I punched him in the face and yelled, "How could you? I trusted you!"
"Wait-wait now hold on, I can explain…"
"Explain what?" I yelled, raising my fist for another blow.
Holding his cheek, he said "Wow, you've got a helluva punch for a mortal soul."
"Explain what?" I repeated through gritted teeth.
The demon before me took a deep, shuddering breath before he said "Years ago… my wife was taken by Satan. She was the first concubine he chose, his prize, his possession." His jaw tightened, his fists clenching. "I swore allegiance to him then, thinking it would keep her safe, that it would grant her favour. But it didn't. He devoured her soul. And now, he demands you."
I gasped, my chest tightening at the revelation. "Your wife? Satan… took her?"
He nodded, the anger in his expression barely contained. "Her name was Isolde and I killed her. I'm an assassin you see, well former assassin now, and she was a target. But after she arrived in the Pride ring we started talking and after everything with Stols…" He took a shuddering breath, his eyes fixed on somewhere in the distance. "She was everything to me." He finally met my gaze, and for a moment, the fire in his eyes dimmed entirely, replaced with something raw and vulnerable. "But when I brought you here, I realised… I couldn't go through with it. I can't lose another… I can't lose you."
My breath hitched. This was more than I could have imagined. Was I merely a substitute for the love he had lost? Or was there something more? The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and I found myself stepping closer to him despite the danger that surrounded us.
"Why?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Why me?"
He reached out, his large hand brushing a strand of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly gentle for a creature of Hell. "Because you're different, Emberlynn. You're not just another soul for him to corrupt. You're this generation's greatest witch and now that you're dead, your body isn't limiting your magic anymore. You're raw power that Satan can consume through sex."
"Oh, I was? Nevermind - No I didn't mean 'why am I a sacrifice', why can't you lose me?"
After another pause he said "Look, I'm not good at this whole feelings thing. But… fuck it, since that day you reached out to me on the ouija board you've made me feel something I thought was lost after Isolde. I thought I could never feel again. Not until you."
A strange warmth spread through me, conflicting with the fear and confusion I'd been harbouring. I wasn't sure what this was, what I had become to him. But I could see the truth in his eyes - he was torn, trapped between duty and desire, between the past and whatever strange connection we now shared.
"I don't even know your name." I said, placing my hand on top of his - pressing him harder into my freckled cheek.
"It's Blitzø - the O is silent."
"Blitzø…" I let his name linger on my tongue. "You don't have to do this," I whispered, dropping my hand down to his muscular chest. "You can defy him. You did it before to talk to me, didn't you?"
He shook his head, though the hesitation was clear. "No, not like this. No one defies a direct order from Satan and survives. He will hunt us both, and I… I am not strong enough to stop him. When he consumed Isolde I tried to…" His voice broke, "They all died and now that I'm alone I can't-"
"But you're not alone," I said, determination rising within me. Hearing his voice, seeing his face, it's so obvious to me now that he's been my demon lover this whole time, that he's risked so much for me already. Even his hesitation could end his life and yet here he is, holding me at the edge of Hell itself, unable to step forward and unable to turn back - all for the love of me.
"You loved once, and that love was taken from you." I said, holding his gaze in mine, "But I can help you fight. You just said I was raw energy, so we can stop this if we can figure out how to use it."
His eyes softened, and for the first time, he smiled. It was small, fragile, but it was real. "You would risk your immortal soul for me?" Blitzø asked, incredulity colouring his voice.
I nodded, swallowing back the fear that threatened to choke me. "Yes. Because I believe in you."
"Even after I betrayed you?"
"I-"
Before I could respond, a deafening roar echoed across the infernal plane. The ground shook, and the very air seemed to crackle with energy. A figure emerged from the shadows, towering and terrible, his yellow eyes glowing with an unholy light.
Satan.
"Blitzø!" Satan's voice boomed, shaking the very foundations of Hell. "Is that her? The newest jewel in my haram." He flexed in my direction, the magma in his biceps throbbing and on the verge of eruption. "You better hand her over before Lucifer spots a mortal soul outside of Pentagram City."
The mysterious demon snarled in defiance before Satan. Heat radiated off of him and his glowing eyes blazed with fury. As my demon lover took a stand against his Lord, I felt love for him burn even hotter than the fiery depths of Hell.
"I won't let you have her," my demon hissed with a mutinous glare. "You took my wife from me, Satan. Never again! Emberlynn Light'ness Demoanya Pinkle is mine."
Satan growled, baring his sharp fangs. My knees trembled at the staggering size of them. He was so close that I could feel his hot breath on my skin, which was exposed as a result of my sacrificial outfit. (Satan's concubines are forced to wear lace bras, leather mini skirts, combat boots, eyeliner, and a smokey eyeshadow look. Also black lipstick. Also I was wearing fishnets.)
"You dare defy me?" Satan roared, his hulking body towering above us. "Hand over the sexual sacrifice so I have my way with her."
"No!" I cried, throwing my arms around my demon lover. "Please don't let him ravish me over and over! My body belongs to you!"
"She's mine to ravish over and over!" my demon lover roared holding me close.
Blitzø stepped in front of me, shielding me from Satan's gaze.
"What do I do?" I whispered to him, "How do I use my power?"
"I- I don't know." He spoke so silently that I almost didn't catch his words at all.
After a deep breath he looked upwards to Satan, held his gaze and shouted "I will not offer her to you, my Lord," his voice was steady despite the tremors in the air. "You took Isolde from me. You will not take Emberlynn."
Satan's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a malevolent grin. "You forget your place, Imp. She belongs to me. Everything here does."
Blitzø turned his head, glancing back at me, his eyes filled with both fear and something more - something that spoke of hope, of a future beyond the hellish landscape we stood upon. "Then we'll fight," he said, his voice resolute. "I would rather die than see her suffer the same fate as my wife."
And in that moment, I knew: this battle wasn't just about survival. It was about something greater, something born of loss and redemption. Together, we would stand against the darkness, and maybe - just maybe - we could win.
The air around us thickened, heavy with the weight of Satan's presence. His towering form loomed, casting shadows that twisted and writhed across the jagged landscape. His laughter rang out, cruel and mocking, as flames flickered behind his eyes. "You would dare challenge me, Blitzø? A lowly Imp against the Prince of Darkness himself? Your defiance amuses me."
Blitzø didn't flinch. His stance remained firm, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the subtle twitch in his fingers as they hovered near his weapons. He was prepared, but the odds were impossible. Still, he stood between me and Satan, as if sheer will alone could hold back the tide of malevolence radiating from his dark lord.
"You took everything from me once," Blitzø growled, his voice low but filled with fire. "M , Loona, Stols, Isolde. I won't let you do it again."
Without warning, Satan raised a hand, and the ground beneath us erupted in a cascade of fire and brimstone. I stumbled, my vision swimming in the heat, but Blitzø was already moving, faster than I'd ever seen him. He charged at Satan, drawing twin guns that glistened in the dim, fiery light. His movements were a blur, each shot aimed with deadly precision.
But Satan was faster.
With a flick of his wrist, a wall of flames burst forth, forcing Blitzø back. The heat was unbearable, but he didn't relent. He spun through the inferno like an acrobat, his bullets cutting through the fire like it was nothing, his eyes locked on Satan with a fierce determination that seemed unshakable.
"You think you can protect her from me?" Satan's voice boomed, his grin widening. He raised his other hand, and from the shadows, dark tendrils of energy shot out, coiling toward Blitzø like serpents. They wrapped around his limbs, pulling him to the ground, pinning him in place.
"Blitzø!" I cried out, taking a step forward, but I felt the pull of fear rooting me in place.
Blitzø grunted, struggling against the dark bonds, but they tightened with every second. His breath came in ragged gasps as he looked up at Satan, still defiant. "You may be stronger," he spat, "but you don't know what it means to fight for something real. For someone you love."
Satan's laughter was a terrible sound. "Love? You think love will save you? You pathetic fool." He stepped closer, his towering form casting an oppressive shadow over us both. "I have crushed greater demons than you under my heel. You will die for your insolence, and she will be mine."
But before Satan could strike, something shifted in the air. A surge of power rippled through the space, and I realised it was coming from me. My heart raced, and instinctively, I raised my hand. A bright, blinding light shot out from my palm, slamming into Satan and forcing him back a few steps.
For a moment, there was silence, as if the entire hellscape itself had been caught off guard. Satan's grin faltered, his eyes narrowing as they flickered toward me.
"You…" he hissed, his voice laced with surprise and anger. "What have you done?"
I didn't fully understand it myself, but I felt a surge of strength, of purpose, filling me. I wasn't powerless. Not anymore. I was unleashed.
Blitzø, now freed from the tendrils, leaped to his feet, his eyes wide with shock and something like pride. "Emberlynn…" he murmured, but there was no time for explanations.
Satan roared, his hands igniting with dark energy as he prepared to unleash his fury. But Blitzø was already in motion, using the distraction I'd created. He lunged at Satan, his bullets slicing through the air in a deadly arc. This time, the demon lord staggered back, the shots leaving deep, smoking wounds across his chest.
Satan's face twisted in rage. "How? Those bullets aren't angelic steel. HOW?"
Blitzø stood tall, his chest heaving. "You're not invincible," he said, his voice rough but triumphant. "Not against her."
With a snarl, Satan raised his arms, the entire ground trembling as the flames of Hell responded to his fury. But before he could strike, I stepped forward, the same strange energy pulsing through my veins. I could feel it now - whatever power I held was tied to this place, to the darkness and the light within me. Only now that I'm dead can I feel its full vibrance. I know its melody and I'm starting to understand which notes to make him bleed.
"We fight together," I whispered to Blitzø, and he nodded, his eyes filled with a fierce determination.
Together, we charged at Satan. Blitzø's bullets sang through the air, while I unleashed bursts of light that cut through the darkness, pushing back Satan's power. Every strike we landed seemed to weaken him, his movements slowing, his roars of fury growing less and less threatening.
But the battle wasn't over. Satan, though wounded, was far from defeated. He summoned one final surge of energy, the ground beneath us cracking and splitting apart, flames bursting from the depths. He raised his muscular arms, and the sky above us darkened, a vortex of shadows circling overhead.
"You will never escape me!" Satan roared, his voice echoing through the fiery abyss.
But as he prepared to strike, I felt something shift inside me, something ancient and powerful. I raised my hand once more, and a beam of pure light erupted from my palm, cutting through the darkness and slamming into Satan with a force that shook the very ground.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence.
Then, with a deafening roar, Satan was thrown back, his form dissolving into the shadows from which he came. The flames around us flickered and died, and the ground stilled.
Breathing hard, I turned to Blitzø. He was battered, covered in soot and blood, but alive. He gave me a weak smile, his eyes reflecting the firelight.
"You fucking did it." He whispered, awe in his voice.
"No," I replied, my chest heaving with exhaustion. "We did it."
Blitzø stepped toward me, his body battered but his gaze full of something far deeper than victory - something raw and unspoken that crackled between us like the embers still glowing around our feet. His hands, still trembling from the battle, reached out and cupped my face, his touch just as gentle as the first time he held me like this. For a moment, the weight of Hell's inferno disappeared, leaving just the two of us standing in the aftermath.
"You saved me," he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with emotion. "I didn't think... I hoped but I didn't really think this was possible. How did you figure it out?"
I looked into his eyes, seeing the fire that still burned within him but also something new. Hope. Desire. A need that matched my own. Slowly, without words, I leaned into him, pressing my lips to his. The kiss was fierce, a release of everything we had just survived - raw, electric, and filled with the promise of something more.
"So…" My demon prince said teasingly, "You body is mine to ravish over and over huh?"
"Yes Master, I mean, Daddy."
Blitzø pulled me into a deeper kiss, his tail coiling around my leg, his arms searching my body for the fastenings to my clothes. "Fuck these clothes." He moaned before tearing them open with his claws.
"No." I commanded into his neck, "Fuck me."
In that moment, the flames of Hell around us dimmed, leaving only the heat between our bodies, the connection we had forged through blood and battle. As we pulled apart, our breath mingling in the smoky air, I realised something: this was just the beginning. Together, we had defied Satan himself, and now, with the power surging through me and with Blitzy-kun by my side, nothing could stop us.
Not even Hell.