Preface: A Thank You

Firstly, I’d like to thank my friends and family for encouraging me to do this; I honestly wouldn't have otherwise since it's so nerve-wracking! They've given me the confidence and peace of mind to post it, so I hope they enjoy it.

And I hope you All do too!

This story originated as a “what if” plotline for a group of characters I love very much: the Egos of Jacksepticeye (Seán Mcloughlin). Of course, these are not his characters; but the stories he made with them have inspired me greatly and I wanted to acknowledge that quickly here.

I’d also like to acknowledge the indie game, Faith, by Airdorf Games and the British television show, Father Brown, because the idea for Jarl to be a priest—thus dramatizing his situation with Áesta immensely—came to me from them.

Ultimately, however, this story was born from my desire to answer a very odd question: what would happen if a human being summoned a daemon and asked them for super powers of all things? And what if that human is a priest who can't technically repay the daemon properly for those super powers?

In the end, I found a really fun story hidden in my question and I hope you All will like it. Thank you for taking a chance with this story.

Prologue: A Summons

“Uuuhuhuhuhu~!”

The hairs on the back of Jarl’s neck raise like those of a cat when the distorted voice screeches to him from beyond the haze. A jagged gape wedges its way into his world, his room, his home and smiles.

“Such tender meat~!”

Jarl shivers at the disembodied voice’s implication, disliking it immensely. He feels sick to the stomach—weak—and withdraws from the coalescing creature immediately. The side of his upper lip curls up in disgust as all the shadows in his room slither across every surface and create a void in the center of its accretion.

“Ah’m goin’ enjoy t’is meal~”

Burning orange eyes ringed in lime green bore gleefully into the simple sky colored irises of the human Jarl. Images of pine needle teeth ripping flesh from his body and of hot blood soaking deep into peridot skin flash before the pale man’s wide eyes. Bile rises in his throat, gagging him, as he forces the daemon from his mind. He slams his back into the wall behind him, jarring his body into paying proper attention. He pants and glares, wiping what might just be vomit from his shaking mouth. “Vile creature.”

The gaping smile laughs at him, “T’at comin’ from ye?”

“QUIET!” Jarl grabs the vail hiding inside his bag—the one he got from his witch of a friend—and holds it aloft with great threat. “I am the one that has summoned you here! You serve ME!”

“Ahahahaha!” the daemon throws its head back, body contorting oddly and sickeningly due to its lack of actually being a body, “Foolish child! Ah s’rve nobody!”

“You will serve me,” Jarl speaks darkly, uncorking the bottle. A voice pours out of it, clear liquid turning bright pink, and a glittering mist forms in the air. The being’s eyes widen, mouth gaping horrifically, before the voice begins chanting rhythmically. The daemon screeches again, this time in pain, and suddenly Jarl knows why he envisioned his red blood on green flesh.

When the spell is finally over and the horrific creature finally silenced, there is a body lying on the floor.

It is small and slender—a forced cage from the spell meant to make it easier to handle and control—with dark green hair, long black claws, off-white fangs, and pale green skin; seemingly different from the monster just threatening to devour Jarl whole; but also the same creature he just summoned to do his bidding… and his bidding it will do.