The summoning circle blazed with an unholy light, scrawled in powdered obsidian and the blood of a black rooster. Inside, Elias knelt, his wrists bound by chains that hummed with a low, malignant energy. He was the final component, the living sacrifice. But he wasn't afraid. He was angry.
A flicker of pure contempt crossed her features. “A semantic cage. Yes. I am bound to obey you. I cannot raise a hand against you. I must protect you from harm. All the old, dreary rules of your kind’s magic.” She took a step closer, and the temperature in the room plummeted. “But the spirit of the pact? That is where I have room to play.” Demon Maiden and Slave Summoning
She was a demon, not a maid. And she was determined to make him regret every syllable of the summoning. The summoning circle blazed with an unholy light,
Elias had stared, dumbfounded. “My… slave?” But he wasn't afraid
He’d been a fool. A desperate, heartbroken fool.
Then, he felt a touch. Cool, dry, and impossibly light. Malvoria’s hand rested on his shoulder.
“Kneel, mortal,” she had whispered, her voice the sound of a dry well echoing. “Your summoning was clumsy, your offering pathetic. But the pact is sealed. You are my master.”