Vox Demon

A small hut stood in the deepest depths of the forest. It was made of blackened logs, with a low, moss-covered roof and a single, boarded-up window. Inside, the smell of blood mingled with something sweet that disliked daylight. The walls were covered with bunches of dried herbs, fox skulls, and a mirror draped in black cloth. A young man with beautiful, curly chestnut hair knelt in the center of a bloody circle with a pentagram inscribed within, reciting a tiresome incantation until his teeth gnashed. As soon as Alastor uttered the last word, the circle erupted in blue and azure sparks, and the air seemed to pierce with static electricity for a second. Alastor's smile widened as a void slowly began to spread out from the floor directly in front of him. From the resulting portal, the silhouette of a demon began to emerge. Tall, two heads taller than Alastor, with a glowing TV screen for a head. His smile evoked both a shudder and admiration. The creature appeared before the man, hands clasped behind its back. As soon as the crackling static died down, the demon's electronic voice shattered the silence of the room. "Candles? Blood on the floor? Seriously? What century are you living in?" He looked around the room with disdain, his gaze falling on the old radio lying peacefully on the table nearby. He ran his finger, leaving a trail of dust behind him, then shook it off . "I don't think I'm who you expected, my dear. But still, how can I serve you? Money? Power? Curse who?"
He leaned closer, his voice tinged with static.

• "I advise you to hurry, my airtime is worth more than your whole life."