The Devil's Play Thing

Chapter Four - High Risk For High Reward.

The ancient pages crackled softly beneath Havana’s fingertips as she turned to the next section of Dæmonologia – Novus Mundus et Vetus. The room seemed to exhale with the motion, as if some unseen presence had been stirred. A chill ran down her spine. Her eyes locked onto the ornate, curling script that stretched across the yellowed parchment like veins: Ritual of Summoning: Voluptas ex Tenebris.

The page that followed listed detailed instructions on how to summon Voluptas ex Tenebris as well as an intricate drawing of a Sigil.

Demon Summoning Ritual: “The Rite of the Crimson Veil”

Purpose: To summon a demon from the Novus Mundus et Vetus Codex for knowledge, power, or bargaining.

Materials Required:

- A circle drawn in blood, inscribed with the following protective symbols:

- The Eye of Binding

- The Sigil of Restraint

- The demon’s personal sigil

- Black candles (6), one at each cardinal point + centre

- Incense made of myrrh, wormwood, and dried hemlock

- A mirror or obsidian scrying stone

- A parchment with the summoner’s intent, signed in blood

The Ritual:

Timing: Midnight. Not a minute before or a minute after.

Location: A sealed, quiet place with no outside interference.

Protection: The summoner must wear a black robe embroidered with silver thread.

Step-by-Step:

Circle Activation:

Light each candle, moving clockwise. Sprinkle pure sea salt outside the circle’s edge to contain the summoned entity.

Incantation:

While burning the incense, recite:

"Ex tenebris voco te, ex abysso clamavi,

Audite vocem meam, daemon vetus,

Aperi portam inter mundos, et veni sub voluntate mea!"

Offering:

Burn the signed parchment over the central candle flame while focusing on the demon’s name and sigil.

Manifestation:

A change in temperature, scent, or the mirror’s surface will signal arrival. The demon’s voice may be heard before any visible form appears.

Warnings

Do not break the circle once summoned.

Do not make vague requests—the demon will twist them.

The mirror is a two-way gate: if cracked, it can become a portal.

Her heart began to thud violently in her chest. She read every word, every diagram, every instruction. It felt like the answer she hadn't known she was looking for. A ritual, a way to reach through the veil and summon something—someone—who might give her the feeling she'd been craving. Something real. Something deep.

She read the page again. And again.

The language was arcane but decipherable, thanks to the Latin primers she'd studied for her degree. Each phrase sounded like an invocation to a darker, older world. Symbols danced across the parchment-like page, intricate and terrifying. She traced one of them with a fingertip, and it felt like static shock zipped up her arm.

For months now, she'd been hollowed out—drifting through life in a constant state of numb detachment. Nothing excited her. Nothing scared her. Nothing made her feel anything. And now here, in her hands, was a method. A possibility. A gamble. Maybe this demon could give her what no therapy, no pill, no person had been able to.

Curiosity, desperation, excitement—they were a dangerous cocktail. And she was already drunk on the idea.

She snapped the book shut and stumbled to her feet. Her skin felt clammy with anticipation. She needed to wake herself up. She needed to ground herself.

She staggered to the bathroom, shed her clothes, and stepped under a blast of cold water. The shock jolted her senses. She scrubbed her skin raw, hoping to wash away the haze of unreality clinging to her. When she emerged, she toweled off quickly, threw on a hoodie and jeans, and headed to the kitchen.

A massive mug of black coffee steamed beneath her nose. She downed half of it in a few gulps, feeling the caffeine hit her bloodstream like a stimulant from the gods. Her fingers tapped against the ceramic restlessly. Her thoughts spun in tight circles. Was she really going to do this?

Yes. She already knew the answer.

The grey London sky did little to ground her as she made her way into the city. She wandered from strange occult shops to dusty antique corners, ticking off items from the mental list the book had etched into her brain: six black candles, a hand mirror, powdered incense, and pure sea salt.

By almost midnight, she had returned to her room ready to attempt to summon Voluptas ex Tenebris.

***

The book lay open on her bed, pages trembling slightly in the breeze from the open window. Havana knelt on the floor, her room now a sacred space cloaked in twilight and tension. She took the candles and arranged them in a precise pentagram on the wooden floor. One at each point, one in the middle. She lit them carefully, watching the flames flicker with silent reverence.

She traced the pentagram with a deliberate sweep of salt, the grains spilling from her fingers like falling ash. The mirror came next—placed just outside the circle on the left, tilted upward to catch the ceiling’s reflection like a watching eye.

Without hesitation, she drew the knife across her wrist. The pain was sharp, cleansing. Blood welled up quickly, warm and vivid, and she let it fall in a slow trail, following the salt’s path. It bled into the circle—red mixing with white—until it looked like a ritual carved from bone and fire. She added the symbols in a triangular pattern around the circle.

Her pulse thundered as she sat cross-legged in front of the configuration. The incense burned beside her, curling upward in slow spirals.

Her voice shook as she began the chant:

"Ex tenebris voco te, ex abysso clamavi, Audite vocem meam, daemon vetus, Aperi portam inter mundos, et veni sub voluntate mea!"

She repeated it.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The air inside the room changed.

The candles sputtered violently. The mirror quivered.

A loud, deafening screech ripped through the air—a metallic, otherworldly shriek that rattled her bones. She clasped her hands to her ears as the salt circle trembled. The mirror blackened at its centre.

Then, a shadow slithered across its surface.

Havana's eyes widened in horror as the reflection warped. A figure began to emerge from within the glass, pulling itself through the boundary between realms. The mirror trembled, saving violently as the creature slid out and materialised in the centre of the pentagram.

Smoke and shadow clung to him like a cloak, his form solidifying into a tall, lithe man with black, silk-like hair and eyes that shimmered like onyx. His presence filled the room instantly, impossibly large and overwhelming.

Havana screamed, scrambling backwards across the floor, her limbs failing her as she pressed herself against the wall.

The demon stretched languidly, his body coiling like liquid fire, then turned his head slowly to look at her.

"Oh darling," he purred, voice like crushed velvet. "I thought you didn’t scare easily."

Havana opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

The demon—Voluptas ex Tenebris—smiled, lips curling with devilish amusement. "Here, I’ll help you. My name is Voluptas ex Tenebris," he said, bowing mockingly. "But you can call me Ten for short."

She tried to respond, but all that came out was a croaked whisper. Her body trembled.

"Hmm... Okay," Ten said with a smirk. "Let’s try this again, shall we, sweetheart?"

He raised his foot and kicked a segment of the salt circle aside.

"Silly humans," he said, watching the salt scatter like dust. "I don’t know why they think salt can contain an immortal being."

With a flash, he vanished from the centre of the pentagram and reappeared right in front of her.

She gasped, crawling backwards until her spine hit the wall. Her breath came in ragged bursts. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

Ten crouched beside her, studying her face with amused intensity. "Lucky for you, I don’t harm the ones who summon me for help. Especially not ones so beautiful."

Havana shook her head, pressing her hands against her face, trying to calm the shrieking chaos in her mind. This cannot be real. I’m dreaming. I’m still in the library, I hit my head, I’m dreaming—"

Ten reached out and pinched her arm, hard.

"Ouch! What the f**k?" she shouted.

He smiled, satisfied. "See? You’re not dreaming. I’m real, Havana."

Her eyes filled with fear and confusion. "What the f**k are you?"

He tilted his head and grinned. "I’m whatever you want me to be."

That made her squirm, and she pushed herself further away along the wall. Ten vanished again and appeared right in front of her, crouching like a cat.

"I can do this all night if you’d like," he said, voice low and amused. "But I’m sure you want to get to the more interesting stuff, no?"

Havana blinked, startled by his question. "Uh... yes...?"

"Wonderful!" he said, clapping his hands once, causing the candle flames to dance.

"So, like I was saying. I’d normally offer a singular wish. One desire, one fulfillment. But your soul... hmm... It’s hauntingly captivating. There’s something different about you. You have a darkness inside you that I’m drawn to."

He leaned closer, his voice turning into a whisper that curled around her like smoke. "How about we make a deal?"

She stared into his eyes. She could feel his words pulling at the empty corners of her soul. He wasn’t lying. She was empty. She had been for a long time.

But what did that mean? What could he possibly want in return?

A hundred questions swarmed her brain. But something deeper, almost primal, rose inside her. She had nothing left to lose.

She met his eyes and asked, "What is this deal?"

Ten grinned. A slow, wicked grin that made her skin prickle with both anticipation and dread.

"Now that," he said, leaning forward until his breath tickled her ear, "is the right question."