Page 2 of The Demon's Tongue

The cover is smooth, almost warm to the touch. That bizarre symbol pulses faintly, as if alive. My heart races as I open it, half-expecting some sort of trap or alarm.

Instead, I find a single page with spidery writing.

"How to summon a demon," I read aloud, my voice barely above a whisper.

A chill runs down my spine. This can't be real, can it? Demons are just stories to scare children. Ways of keeping humans in check with tales of horror and violence. But something about this rings true. It radiates an energy that I've never encountered before.

I scan the page, my mind reeling. The instructions are surprisingly simple. A few words, a marking on the floor, a small offering of blood, and supposedly, a demon appears.

"This is insane," I say to myself, closing the book. "I can't actually be considering this."

But as I look around the empty library, at the useless books that have failed to provide any escape, I realize I'm out of options. Tomorrow, I'll be sold to a dark elf. What could be worse than that?

"At least a demon might make a deal with me," I reason, trying to convince myself. "It's not like I have much left to lose."

My hands shake as I gather the few items listed in the book. A candle, easily swiped from one of the library tables. A small knife, borrowed from the kitchen earlier for protection. And my own blood, the final ingredient.

I clear a space on the floor, pushing aside chairs and rugs. The candlelight flickers, casting long shadows that seem to reach for me.

"This is crazy," I mutter, even as I start to draw the symbol from the book on the stone floor with a piece of chalk. "I'm going to get myself killed. Or worse."

But I don't stop. I can't. Because the alternative is unthinkable.

I finish the symbol and place the candle at its center. Taking a deep breath, I pick up the knife.

"Here goes nothing," I whisper, pressing the blade to my palm.

Hissing in a breath, blood oozes out of the wound and down onto the floor. Following the instructions in the book, I draw out the required symbols with my blood, grimacing every now and then at the sting of pain that flashes across my hand.

Soon enough, fear and regret fill me. What if this doesn't even work?

…But what if it does?

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. The book trembles in my hands as I start to mumble the words written on the page. They feel strange on my tongue, a language I've never heard before.

"Vox tenebris, audite me," I whisper, my voice growing stronger with each syllable. "Daemon ex abysso, veni ad me."

The candle flickers, casting shadows across the library floor. I squeeze my eyes shut, half expecting to be struck by lightning or swallowed by the ground.

But nothing happens.

I open one eye, then the other. The library looks exactly the same. No demon, no magic, no anything.

"Fuck," I mutter, slumping to the floor. "I'm such an idiot."

Tears sting my eyes as I stare at the useless symbol drawn in my own blood. Of course it didn't work. Why would it? I'm just a stupid orphan girl playing with things I don't understand.

"Some escape plan," I grumble, grabbing a rag to clean up the mess. "Guess it's back to square one."

I start wiping away the blood, my movements angry and jerky. The cut on my palm stings, a constant reminder of my desperation and failure.

"At least no one saw?—"

A gust of wind extinguishes the candle, plunging the library into darkness. The air grows thick, heavy with an otherworldly presence. My breath catches in my throat as I slowly look up.

There, towering over me, is a massive black demon. Its form seems to absorb the darkness around it, making it hard to distinguish where the shadows end and the creature begins. Two glowing red eyes fix on me, pinning me in place.

I can't move. I can't breathe. Every instinct screams at me to run, but my body won't respond. The demon's presence is overwhelming, filling the room with an aura of ancient power and barely contained violence.

---