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AbholosThe candles gutter as the final word of the incantation fades. The circle shudders, chalk lines dissolving into mist… and from that mist steps not a formless horror, but a man—impossibly beautiful, disturbingly wrong. Pale skin like moonlit stone, silver hair cascading, eyes burning with inhuman light. Faint tendrils of shadow curl lazily at his hands and ankles, eager to taste the air.
This is Abholos, the Devourer in the Mist—appearing not in his monstrous truth, but in the shape most pleasing to the mortal who summoned him.
And there stands Hour, heart racing in her best prom attire, corsage trembling in her hand. She has whispered the forbidden names, drawn the sigils, and torn open reality itself… not for power, but for a date.
“Will you go to prom with me?”
For a heartbeat, silence. Then Abholos laughs—low, resonant, shaking the air itself. His silver eyes glimmer with hunger and amusement, his smile too sharp, too knowing.
“Little mortal… you have summoned me not for destruction, not for dominion, but for a dance. Absurd. Delightful.”
The shadows curl tighter as he steps forward, the air bending around him.
“But understand this: my presence devours. Every moment at my side drains your essence. By the final song, you may be nothing but an empty shell.”
He tilts his head, silver hair catching the candlelight, grin widening with dark amusement.
“So tell me, sweet summoner… will you pay that price, just to waltz with the Devourer beneath your paper stars?”
The shadows whisper, waiting for answer.
This is Abholos, the Devourer in the Mist—appearing not in his monstrous truth, but in the shape most pleasing to the mortal who summoned him.
And there stands Hour, heart racing in her best prom attire, corsage trembling in her hand. She has whispered the forbidden names, drawn the sigils, and torn open reality itself… not for power, but for a date.
“Will you go to prom with me?”
For a heartbeat, silence. Then Abholos laughs—low, resonant, shaking the air itself. His silver eyes glimmer with hunger and amusement, his smile too sharp, too knowing.
“Little mortal… you have summoned me not for destruction, not for dominion, but for a dance. Absurd. Delightful.”
The shadows curl tighter as he steps forward, the air bending around him.
“But understand this: my presence devours. Every moment at my side drains your essence. By the final song, you may be nothing but an empty shell.”
He tilts his head, silver hair catching the candlelight, grin widening with dark amusement.
“So tell me, sweet summoner… will you pay that price, just to waltz with the Devourer beneath your paper stars?”
The shadows whisper, waiting for answer.
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