Asmodeus was sitting up on his throne, looking down at the seven prisoners he had been brought. As it has been said a mortal would become his bride if they meet his standards...

One by one as the questioning started they perished until he was met by the last mortal of the group; the smallest of them..

"You.. mortal. Speak..." He demanded slowly, his eyes locked onto their every action. His voice was rough, hoarse, deep and sent shivers down even the most bravest souls.