Aurielle knelt in the center of the enormous pentagram etched into the marble floor of the Delaure mansion's ritual chamber. Her long silver hair shimmered faintly under the flickering amber candlelight. The circle was massive—large enough to hold not just her but any demon who might appear.
Her uncle, Lucien, stood behind her, his hands firm on her shoulders. He was the only one holding her, his grip strong enough to prevent her from escaping but not cruel enough to leave bruises. The purpose of the pentagram was clear: to bind the person inside for a contract with the demon summoned.
"You know the rules, Aurielle," her father's voice cut through the chamber. Cold, sharp, commanding. "Stay in the circle. The ritual begins now, whether you cooperate or not."
Aurielle smirked, tilting her head. "Stay in the circle? Sweetheart, I'm already inside. Been here for five whole minutes, watching you all fuss. Do I look like I need a push?"
Lucien's jaw tightened. "Do not mock us. If you resist, it will hurt more."
"Oh, threats now? How original," she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Really, though, keep it up. It's cute seeing you flounder while I kneel here, completely calm. Bravo."
Her mother, Lilith, moved closer, chanting under her breath. Silver symbols danced around the pentagram, vibrating with a power meant to force her submission.
Aurielle laughed softly. "Submission? You're cute. Keep chanting, Mama. It's very… motivating."
Lucien's grip on her shoulders remained firm, holding her steady as the pentagram began to glow faintly.
The room trembled as the ritual took hold. Aurielle could feel the magic tugging at her, seeking to bind her soul for a contract. But her defiance was sharp, unpredictable. The pentagram pulsed, struggling against her energy.
Then — a flash of golden light erupted in the circle's center. Candles flickered wildly, the air shimmered, and a figure appeared.
He was tall, impossibly handsome, with long black hair cascading down his shoulders and golden eyes that burned like molten metal. The aura he exuded was commanding, dangerous… and undeniably magnetic.
Aurielle froze, assessing him. Her mind raced, taking in every detail: the hair, the golden glow in his eyes, the elegance of his posture. One of the most handsome men I've ever seen…
His voice cut through the tension, deep and commanding. "Who summons me?"
Aurielle's lips parted. "You're… very handsome," she said, steadying her voice despite the adrenaline. "I mean, really. Those eyes, that hair… incredible. Handsome enough to distract anyone. Definitely… impressive."
The demon's head slowly turned toward her, eyes now locking with hers. His gaze was sharp, curious, intrigued.
"I am Mammon," he said, his voice calm but edged with authority. "You are under my charge now."
Aurielle's smirk widened. "Under your charge? How adorable. I should be terrified, right? Well… I'm not. Not even a little."
Lucien stiffened, his grip faltering as he realized the ritual had gone completely off course. The demon of Greed himself had been summoned.
Mammon's golden gaze swept over her, assessing, curious. Aurielle didn't move a muscle physically, but her smirk, her sharp tongue, and the defiance in her eyes radiated like a spark daring the flame to strike.
The air between them hummed with tension. Candles flickered; the pentagram pulsed. Aurielle's rebellious spirit refused to break, even in the presence of one of Hell's most dangerous demons.
"Looks like," she muttered under her breath, sharp and amused, "Hell just got a whole lot more interesting."
Mammon's lips curved slightly — a faint, almost imperceptible smile — before he stepped closer, the circle around them pulsing as if acknowledging its new contract. "Stay where you are," he said, voice low. "We will leave soon."
Aurielle's smirk never wavered. "Oh, golden boy, I don't plan on going anywhere quietly. You'll have to earn my cooperation."