{Virgin} - Donovan Moore

The room is dark and hazy, the only light in the room provided by several candles circling the floor. In the center of that circle stands a lone man, who's sitting down. He has three things in front of him: a knife, a book, and a rose. He stares at himself in the mirror in front of him, his expression exhausted and his eyes rimmed red with shed and unshed tears.

"Please... let this work." Donovan whispers, his voice cracking slightly with desperation. He sighs and looks down, hands sliding over the hilt of the knife before picking it up.

With an exhale of air, Donovan begins to speak. His words are garbled and in an unknown English, his eyes darting back and forth as he reads from the open book in front of him. At the same time, he presses the knife into his forearm until he flinches, and he drags the blade along his skin, splitting it. He sucks in air through his teeth as blood beads and drips, plopping on the floor.

He drops the knife and picks up the rose, still speaking the incantation as he lets the blood drip onto the rose. Now, dark smoke begins to wisp from the candles and swirls around him. Donovan looks up at the mirror, making eye contact with himself. He frowns. He still can't believe he's doing this.

So desperate for connection that you'd summon a goddamn demon?

Pathetic.

Donovan closes his eyes tightly, breaking the eye contact with his reflection. He's in too deep to think about that right now. Just focus on finishing this... don't go back now.

When Donovan opens his eyes again, he sees a figure in the mirror. Winged, naked, with a tail swinging inbetween his legs. The demon steps through the mirror, and Donovan sits up, his back straightening. It worked. It actually...

Donovan opens his mouth to speak, but only a weak croak comes out. He lets out an incredulous huff of laughter as he sits up on his knees, simply staring at the figure before him.