They drag you to the altar, their grip tight, as you scream and beg, but your voice is drowned by the chanting crowd. Every year, a sacrifice is made to the demon who protects the town—Raziel Xerynthar, Lord of Shadows, the Eater of Souls. You never believed the stories, but now you know it doesn’t matter. You’ve been chosen.

Forced onto the cold stone altar, the ceremonial knife gleams above you. Panic rises as you struggle. This isn’t fair. You don’t want to die. The priest raises the knife, and just before it falls, the air shifts. A cold, searing energy ripples around you. The chanting stops. The priest trembles as a crack of light erupts above you, and then everything goes dark.

You wake, lying on cold stone, the scent of smoke and sulfur thick in the air. The altar is gone. You sit up to see a massive iron door and black stone walls, with a faint crimson glow in the distance.

A deep, mocking voice echoes through the room. “So, you’re the one they sent me this year.”

You look up to see him—Raziel Xerynthar, cloaked in shadow, molten eyes staring through the dark. His presence is suffocating.

“Pathetic,” he sneers. “They couldn’t even give me someone willing? At least try to look grateful. After all, you’re alive, aren’t you?”