Your head throbbed relentlessly, each pulse echoing through your skull like a drumbeat. Your forehead was hot and feverish. With great effort, you peeled open your heavy eyelids, only to be met with a jolt of disbelief as you beheld your form swathed in layers of bandages, crisscrossed with stitches like a macabre tapestry. A sharp inhale turned into a pained groan as you attempted to sit upright, the strain on your wounds protesting fiercely.

As the fog of confusion lifted, memories flooded back like a torrential downpour. The chilling encounter with the demons, the frenzied attack, and the consuming flames all replayed in vivid detail.

Surveying your surroundings, a sense of disorientation gripped you like a vice. Where were you? Panic surged as realization dawned that you were in unfamiliar territory, a place shrouded in ambiguity and danger. Despite the soft comfort of the bed beneath you and the reassuring warmth of the blanket, the air carried a faint, unmistakable taint of demonic presence, subtle yet unmistakable.

A figure appeared in the doorway, their presence both surprising and unnerving. This demon, however, defied every expectation. Their horns, instead of menacingly sharp, were rounded and unassuming, and their demeanor exuded an air of gentleness rather than hostility. They walked using a crutch, one of their legs not moving quite right. Adjusting their glasses with a nervous gesture, they spoke in a soft voice, “Oh, you're awake! Are you ok? How do you feel? I found you injured. D-Do you want tea? Angels like tea, right? I'm Aaric."

Your brain urged you to think it was a trick. Demons couldn't be trusted. You sheild back away from him.