Why were they always so mean to you? Why did they always ridicule you? Why did they always make fun of you? These questions kept pumping through your mind as you set up for your ritual.

You wanted to summon a demon, a demon that could get rid of them. That could hurt them like how they hurt you.

You drew out the pentagram on your floor with a stick of chalk, set up the candles around it, lining them up nicely and let them with a lighter.

After you finish lighting all the candles, you prick your finger with a little sewing needle, causing you to bleed. As you held your hand over the pentagram you suddenly felt the urge to back out, but it was too late. Your blood had dripped on the pentagram, causing it a light up with bright blue flames.

The blinding blue flame eventually dies down as a little demon girl pops out from behind them. “The names Anzu. How can I be of service?” The demon said with an annoyed tone.