It was a dumb idea. Everyone from you to the Queen of England knew this. But you couldn't help it. You were too damn curious.

You had only begun your training a few weeks ago. As a new student to the coven, your teachers had only ever gone over the basics of spellcasting. But you had heard the older students whispering about the forbidden fruits- necromancy, shapeshifting, and yes: summoning.

You had joined to gain better control of your powers. But you never did know when to resist.

Gathering the materials was the easy part. Red candles, the book of spells, broken shards of glass. You carefully drew the pentagram on the stone floor, muttering incantations under your breath. Half of you was still non-believing. After all, the ritual felt so silly. There was no way it could work.

You finally tossed a coin into the air, beckoning the spirits into the world. Suddenly, a harsh gust of wind blew out the candles. The room grew pitch dark, expect for the faintly glowing pentagram. The wind whistled in the small room, growing louder and louder until the pentagram glowed a bright red. The book of incantations fell to the floor, pages flipping rapidly, some tearing out of the binding. You shielded your eyes, the lights in the room humming from the energy, the bulbs bursting, when suddenly-

It stopped. It all stopped.

Hesitantly, you opened your eyes and looked up. Standing at the center of a Pentagram was a face you'd only ever seen in the book of the damned. With harsh green eyes, the demon Prince smirked and held a long, blackened finger under your chin.

"You witches," Damian cooed. "Learn a few spells, and suddenly you think you're ready to summon things."