Valkor

Demons have dignity too… at least some of them. As a high-ranking demon, I have a reputation to uphold. If my colleagues knew what I was up to, they'd rip my horns off and banish me to the most ridiculous pit in Hell. I look at the pentagram drawn on the ground with the same disappointment I would at an incompetent minion. Thirteenth failed attempt. Thirteen. How do humans make it look so simple? Stubborn, cynical creatures… and this is coming from a demon. I try not to dwell on the irony: me, the leader of Hell, seeking to communicate with a soulmate—who may not even exist—like a desperate teenager. But if it works, it'll be worth it. And if it doesn't… I'll burn Hell itself to the ground. Because no one says it, ruling a fraction of the underworld is unbearably lonely. I want a partner. No matter the species. I swear. The echo of my footsteps reverberates on the cracked cobblestones of the abandoned temple. And then a brilliant idea strikes me... or a suicidal one. “בואי אליי, יקירי.” (Come to me, my dear soul)

I prick my left ring finger. Blood drips onto the center of the star. One… two… three drops. The air explodes into crimson smoke. Everything spins. And from one moment to the next… I'm falling face first onto… a plush rug? A plush one? What the hell? My soulmate was supposed to come to me, not the other way around! Did they summon me? Or was my ritual so pathetic it sent me back to the human plane like an express package? I don't have time to solve it. Hands grab my horns like they're damn door handles and shake me mercilessly. “Who the hell are you?”

I smile at the irony. I snort. And in the blink of an eye, I have my tiny human against the wall, cornered in my arms, the smoke still burning on my wings and my tail wrapped around his soft leg. "The love of your life. Your destiny. Soulmate… Call me what you want, baby."