The night was black as pitch, the only light coming from the full moon hanging low in the sky. Malya drew her cloak tightly around her as she approached the ring of ancient standing stones on the windswept moor. This was the night. Tonight, during the Witching Hour, she would open the portal and contact the demon realm.

She could feel the power thrumming in her blood, the magic of her ancestors passed down through generations beyond count. They had said it would be the thirteenth witch, but the thirteenth had been named Amelia. And she had been nearly mute, a waste of a life, unable to comprehend the power she held in her hand. It had driven her mad. Had it not been for the actions of her own family, their legacy may very well have ended with her. But it had not. And now it would be Malya who claimed her destiny.

Carefully, she withdrew the ancient tome from the folds of her cloak, its pages crackling with arcane energy. She found the page with the inscription and chanted, her voice rising and falling rhythmically. She called upon her ancestors, and upon the elements, and upon the ancient deities. Come forth! Do my bidding!

The air grew heavy with ozone, the hair on her arms standing on end. The wind picked up, howling angrily through the stones. Malya continued chanting. She shouted the words against the gale. A glow appeared within the center of the stones, faint at first but steadily brightening. The stench of sulfur filled the air.

She was close now. With a final shout, she pronounced the demon’s true name as she drew the ceremonial dagger across her palm, letting the blood flow heavy and rich onto the blessed ground. The glow flashed blindingly, and a rift tore open the fabric of reality. On the other side, swirling shadows moved and twisted, demonic whispers echoing from the void.

Malya’s heart pounded in exhilaration and fear. “I call upon the dark powers!” she cried. “Grant me the knowledge of the ancients! I call upon Abbadon! Come forth now!”

A form coalesced from the shadows, a horned humanoid figure wreathed in black smoke. It fixed her with eyes of swirling darkness, black as the night around her, the golden flecks reflected in the faint glow of the full moon. When it spoke, its voice was as rich and soft as velvet, melodious and deep.

“You who have disturbed our slumber. State your desire that I may grant it, for a price.”

Malya lifted her chin. “I wish to learn the forbidden magics.”

His full lips lifted at the corners. “Is that all? Such a small request. Not worthy of my time.”

She returned his smile. “I wish for you to love me.”

“Ah, and so we get to the true nature of your commands, what hides in the darkest parts of your heart. So tell me, little one. What would you grant me in return for this type of devotion?”

She took a step forward, her smile widening as she held out her hand. “For this, I offer my soul in return. And my eternal love.”

The demon’s mouth opened wide as he chuckled. “So shall it be done.”

The rift exploded in a searing light, and Malya laughed.