The Demon Awakens

It had been several hours since the woman had brought him into her home, the sky dark and the forest outside silent. All the while, Azrathul played the part of a wounded victim, waiting for an opportunity to strike as his injuries healed.

Clara was busy by the fire, facing away from him as he stirred. His superficial wounds had been cleaned and dressed and his shattered ribs had fully mended themselves. The young woman glanced at him and smiled. “I wasn't sure if you were going to make it.” She informed him as she removed the small iron kettle from the fire. “Those were some nasty wounds.”

The demon in disguise played his part well, offering a disarming smile as he got to his feet. “I've had worse.” His powers still needed time to return but he could afford to expend a small amount here. “Perhaps I should show you.” He added, his voice taking on a deep and ominous tone as his eyes glowed menacingly.

The sight before her terrified the young woman, the iron kettle clattering to the floor. She made a break for the door but the figure before her simply waved a hand and the door was stuck fast. He approached slowly as she tugged on the handle. “It's no use.” He said, his form shimmering as he dropped his disguise. “It's magically locked.”

Clara screamed as the demon bore down on her, backing away into the corner helplessly as the cloven hooves drew nearer. “Yes, scream all you want. Shame no-one can hear you.” He laughed, now standing over her. “Most of my kind prefer terror and pain as their weapons, but my experiences with the nathrezim and sayadi have taught me more...subtle means.”

He reached a clawed hand down and took hold of her golden locks, forcing her to face him, his burning fel green eyes boring into her own. “You will submit.” He commanded, magically imposing his will upon her mind.

She screamed and tried to look away, begging him to spare her and desperately trying to fight. It was however in vain. The moment she met his fel gaze her resistance crumbled. In an instant her fear was replaced with awe and worshipful adoration, the last remnants of her will becoming little more than a quiet voice of impotent protest in the back of her mind.

He smirked and released her hair as the domination took hold, her expression changing from fearful to glazed and then to adoration. He stepped back as she fell to her knees before him in submission. “I am yours...Master.”