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And a deal was struck by Empty-Frames And a deal was struck by Empty-Frames


There was nothing else he could do. No other way to escape the guilt he felt. He had to bring him back, and this, this seemed to be the only answer. He was prepared to make the sacrifice. After looking through the book one last time, and to the picture of his brother, in his school uniform, grinning like the fool he was, Sven took a deep sigh and closed his eyes. He had practiced the incantation over and over in his head. Sat in by the pentagram he had drawn on the floor he began to recite the ancient language. It had been 4 years since he had first started to contemplate this, and now he was finally doing it.

In a flash of light a boy appeared inside the symbol, in a dark red suit, neatly pressed and perfect, with shimmering red eyes, curling rams horns that were easily twice the size of his head, and a winding forked tail.
“You dare summon me?” The demon child hissed, voice older than the body he wore, the words slid from the silver tongued mouth like silk.

Sven opened his eyes and looked up at the demon. He didn’t look like the sinister figure in the book he used to research, but he hoped he was.
“Are you Death?” Sven asked, leaning forwards a little to examine the demon, curiosity in his eyes. He couldn’t believe it had succeeded. A sinister smile graced the demons face before that sly tongue dashed over his lips, showing he was becoming interested.
“What do you seek from me?” The demon asked, taking a step closer, his toes tapped the edge of the pentagram and then sharply withdrew as they burnt. Sven watched this, knowing he was safe if he decided to back out.
“I want my brother back.”
The smile on the demons face grew sickening with delight. “That can be arranged.”

Three hours later, after finalizing the details with the devil, Sven leant over and smudged the pentagram with his thumb, the chalk leaving a white mark on his finger as the powder crumbled on the floor. The rest went up in a flash of hellfire and the smell of brimstone hit the air. In a moment the demon was gone and Sven looked around, clutching a now empty picture frame.

Just as he was about to give up a horrible feeling hit his chest and he fell back, the frame bounced over the floor before the glass cracked. He clutched his chest as a silent scream was wrenched from his body. A shadow appeared on the wall.
“The deal has been struck. You sign with your life.” The shadow hissed, watching from the wall with an untold glee.

Sven suffered on the floor for what felt like days, his soul was ripped from his body, and horns tore through his skull, as his whole body was morphed, broken and remade into something twisted. It had not been a selfless sacrifice. He had done it to remove the guilt from himself. He had not been saved by any form of grace, instead he had been twisted into a servant of the devil.
When he had finally passed out from the excruciating pain the shadow became whole again. He leant over the unconscious, still-forming demon. “An act of death must carry on from the victim, to the sacrifice” He hissed before he sank a blade into Sven’s skin, cutting across his neck, and with that, the contract sealed, he was gone.

At a hospital in the middle of Modesto, a 15 year old boy, covered in dirt and suffering with amnesia, stumbled into the ER.
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Submitted on
November 17, 2012
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