[center]The spinning projection’s wing clashed with Selena’s blade. A thunderous clang rang out as mesmerizing sparks emanated.  Out came a mystifying cloud which Ceven examined skeptically. Given the circumstances, it wasn’t natural.  His keen eyes squinted like an old man holding a piece of paper from his face. Never had the ox-horned devil seen lightning or any energy for that matter produce steam that actively eliminated his sulfuric cigar smoke. He planned to entrap and lull the woman with its smokey toxins to unconsciousness but the momentarily spinning visual manifestation of Selena whisked it away and now the vapor fumes were coming in his direction.

[i]“Best not to take a whiff of that.”[/i]

Rather than deal with that concerning gases, Ceven casually waltzed out the hallway, back to where everyone went back to unapologetically party despite the commotion. The second his back hoove exited, the demon dropped his Mayan sigcar. Upon impact, Its wilting cinders ignited a malefic brand of sanguine fire, closing it off. Only those truly one with the infernal depths of hell could produce such voracious flames from an ember. Well beyond an ordinary inferno, this hellfire had a sentient relentless hunger. It wasn’t just that moisture evaporated. Its presence in all ceased to exist and so could an unguarded spirit. In its grip, vibrant souls distort and wither, leaving desolation in their wake and here it was racing along every square inch of the hallway toward Selena.

Funny enough, afterward, Ceven looked around in confusion at the shag carpet for his very much expensive cigar. Despite how it looked, He most certainly did not drop it by mistake but there was no retrieving it now. He shrugged. A minor inconvenience. Ceven was far too drunk to care. Not that anyone noticed. Known as the beast of commerce, despite his miniature stature, his role in the Sarcoen family was just as important as Parooz, Ixxa, or Vileiro. They all had their avenues they excelled in and after seeing what the young devil hunter did, it was enough to think of her potentially as an asset to flip. With his cutthroat business approach, the minotaur devil learned the approximate value of a soul. In fact, he was quite infamous for his weekly updates which he influenced the soul market off the mere roll of his black forked tongue.

[i]“They’ll pay a lot for you. Let’s get Parooz’s opinion.”[/i]

Now that he couldn’t be seen, he hightailed it out of there—knocking over drinks, popping a few dress straps with his sharp ribbed horns. Shimmying through the crowd, despite his best efforts, he created quite the scene. His miniature size limited the damage but the crowd had little concern. However, members of the Sarcoen family like Vincenzo wondered why he was in such a rush. Ceven was more attuned to what Parooz was cooking up. It was time to bounce. Personally, he wanted no parts of [b]her[/b]. Unfortunately for the devil hunter, she was about to find out.

Eerily, the last door of the hallway shuddered open with a loud creak. The only seemable escape from the raging flames. Inside? Selena’s squinting vision revealed two devils quite cozy. One with an arm around the shoulders of the red-skinned, snow-blonde-haired other. Their burning glares penetrated her spirit as if they looked into Selenas’s very soul.  No doubt, there was malice behind their snake eyes, but in her situation, where else was there to go? The flames even stopped at the doorway.

[i]“Come in… We don’t bite.”[/i] They said in symmetry.

[url=https://youtu.be/FLRgldD8nkc?si=SVh3a2UE9ZEpm43n&t=168][b][Symphony][/b][/url]

The red door with a crystal skull door knob at the end of the hall creaked open. Permeating at her ankles out the doorway was a rich black fog. A grand spectacle was underway, woven with threads of lust and greed. Ceven’s flame barrier set up at the end of the speakeasy’s doorway winded further and further away.  Selena, the young devil hunter, found herself at the threshold of a hellish domain.

Front in the center, a blood-red draping canopy bed, magnolious in its opulence, cocooned Parooz and Ixxa, two devils entwined in an embrace that exuded both seduction and danger. Their quarrel appeared resolved for the time being. The air crackled with an invitation, a questionable gesture considering their surroundings in this dome-shaped chamber.

A foreboding ambiance of the chills whelmed the space below a sky awashed in apocalyptic hues of crimson and onyx. A macabre rendition of Triumph of the Medici unfolded in the air. One where beautiful succubi orchestrated an aerial ballet of agony and torture upon hundreds of hapless humans. Some even relished in the pain, cascaded by thunderous whips, strapped to infinitely elongating racks, unmitigated genitalia mutilation, and absurdly degenerate forms of sodomy. Their visceral screams and orgasmic moans competed for air time with the singing and laughter of hell’s demimondaines. A twisted symphony following the sharp, rhythmic black-nailed index of Parooz. Their wonderful sacrifices would not perish in vain. These were but a morsel of souls sold willingly and of their own volition to Ixxa after all. Plus, half of their wretched hearts could probably survive another round. Even as unethical as it was, the requirements were almost met for her to briefly manifest before them.

Parooz almost shed a tear. It was beautiful. [i]“Since I’ve been gone, you’ve gotten better, Ixxa.”[/i]

[i]“And earlier you were thinking about killing her…”[/i] Tony chided.

Parooz’s pistol spoke out of turn yet again. Trying not to ruin the moment, without saying anything, the demon reached for his hip, flinging his smart-aleck pistol over the headboard of the bed a football field’s length away.

Focused on the task at hand, Ixxa ignored Parooz’s backhanded comment. Sex sells, and her business was at an all-time high. Whether it was the insurgence of incel streamers or women desperate to manipulate and gain their audience through objectification, Ixxa could and would help, and at a steep fee.

Nevertheless, a gentle vortex of swirling black clouds, an ominous herald of their impending ritual, formed from the ankle-high fog just before the bed’s ottoman. Amidst this developing maelstrom, the eyes of the devil duo gleamed in muted luminescence—Parooz’s amber orbs exuded a suspicious warmth of tempting power, while Ixxa’s lime-green gaze bore an orgasmic allure laced with danger.

The chamber itself seemed a canvas for the arcane. During this summoning, where the lines between worlds grew thin. Selena stood at the precipice, but would she be torn between the allure of the invitation and the weight of her sworn duty? A choice beckoned—a choice that would only mark the rest of her life.

[i]”Ysolde, our sovereign, hear my plea,  
From realms veiled in mystique, emerge to see,  
In the dance of shadows and ethereal grace,  
Answer my call, reveal your face.  

Oh queen of the void, mistress of disguise,  
In your formless beauty, you mesmerize,  
Come forth from the unknown, oh ancient sprite,  
To this earthly plane on this fateful night.  

With your veiled countenance, a sight to behold,  
Ysolde,, by stories told,  
Lurking in mirrors and the corners unseen,  
Grace this circle, make this scene.  

In the whispers of darkness, in silence profound,  
I summon thee, with powers unbound,  
To join our worlds in this mystic hour,  
Ysolde, queen, wield your beguiling power.  

By the enchantments woven in this space,  
Let our destinies intertwine and embrace,  
Oh ancient one, from the abyss you roam,  
Ysolde, appear and make our domain your home…”[/i]

Just a slither of her prodigious presence anointed itself into the air. It could be felt outside the bounds of the dimension. To those new to Aeternus, this presence was especially radiant, inviting, comforting, motherly, yet terrifying. It ensnared them.

[i]“Find me.”[/i]

The words spoken profoundly into the consciousness of Rory. He could only hope that the man in contest with the gorgon heard it as well to save himself from facing it alone. 

[b][i]“Find me.”[/i][/b]

[/center]