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Your name is in elegant, sweeping script across the envelope. Inside is a plain card, one you open with a growing curiosity.
Meet me here after classes are done. There is something you must know.
Solomon
The name at the bottom is what draws you in the most. You purse your lips. Didn't you just see him just this morning? He hadn't said anything to you then… You tuck the card back into your bag.
Strange.
"Solomon?" You call out into the echoing auditorium. Hearing no response, you make your way down the stairs towards the center podium area. Just before your feet touch the last step, there's an almost silent gust of wind. A sharp pain blossoms at the back of your head, and you're out cold before you can hit the floor.
Consciousness gradually returns, accompanied by a pounding headache. You go to stretch your arms as they're cramping up, only to realize you're restrained sitting upright. Immediately on alert, you try to take in your surroundings. The room is unfamiliar and dark; you struggle against the vines holding you down, but realize that the vines have sharp, unrelenting thrones peppered throughout. You're already covered in several cuts, and they bleed through your uniform shirt.
"You're awake," Solomon says, and only as your eyes adjust to the darkness do you realize Solomon is on his knees a few feet in front of you.
"Solomon?" You say, "What's going on?" A door opens on the wall behind you, out of your field of vision; dim light spilling into the room and illuminating Solomon's face. You gasp. Solomon's shirtless, hands bound behind his back, bruises developing on his body. His lip is split, and his hair is dishevelled. He looks genuinely apologetic as he speaks.
"I'm afraid you're about to find out," he says, as footsteps enter the room, and he turns to glare at the approaching figure.
"Moloch." Solomon growls.
"Hello again, Solomon," Moloch smiles, and once you see the unknown demon, you know you're in trouble. "It looks like your human comrade has finally decided to join the fun."
Moloch may stand on two legs, but that's the most human thing about him. Too pale skin, ribbed, gnarled horns, and inky black eyes - he dresses similarly to Mammon's demon form, but his gaunt ribs stick out with starvation while Mammon's do not. His hands are accented by long, savage looking claws. His silver hair is tied back in a loose braid; he is terrifying, but not beautiful like the others are. There is too much wild hunger in his fanged smile to mistake him for anything but a potential threat.
"I had wondered about the human who made pacts with all seven lords." He looks up and down, assessing you. Moloch does not look impressed.
"Disgusting. The thought of being sworn to serve an insignificant flea like yourself sickens me."
Determined to be brave, you narrow your eyes, "I would never want to make a pact with anyone like you either." He strikes you across the face with the back of his hand, intentionally not drawing blood with his claws. The chair topples over, taking you down with it as well. Involuntarily, you cry out as the changed position causes the thorns to dig into your arms again, giving you fresh cuts and deepening the ones you'd had before. A leather boot comes to lay flat on your cheek, and Moloch pushes down.
"Stop," Solomon demands, reaching a trembling hand out. At some point, he'd escaped his bindings and stood up. As injured as he is, he doesn't look steady on his feet, but the fire in his eyes is unmistakable. Moloch looks back at him, unrelenting in his painful pressure as he steps on your face. His tail curls, flicking out like an irritated cat's. He tilts his head to the side.
"My, you're a brave one," Moloch tilts his head to the side, contemplating Solomon's threat. And then he snarls, fanged teeth seeming to grow in length with his malice. "But the strongest sorcerer of your time? Against me? Don't make me laugh."
And then he's striding towards Solomon, deftly batting the other's hand out of the air. Put off balance, Solomon is unable to defend himself against the punch Moloch administers to his stomach. He coughs, collapsing to the ground.
"Solomon!" You cry, struggling even harder against the vines amidst the pain. Solomon is pale, distressingly so; his breathing is labored as he screws his eyes shut in pain. He struggles to bring himself to his knees, arms giving out under himself more than once. Moloch circles him like he has all the time in the world, his tail whipping across the cobblestone floor.
"I have thought about devouring you since I learned of the child blessed by Michael." Moloch licks his lips, "I cannot wait to suck the marrow from your bones." The demon grins, grabbing Solomon by the hair and pulling him to his feet. Solomon clenches his jaw at the pain, legs scrambling to hold himself up even as Moloch continues to bring him up till the tips of Solomon's boots only brush the floor. He leans in close to Solomon's face, inhaling deeply at the crook of the other's neck.
"Imagine how Diavolo's stupid little exchange program will collapse in on itself when they discover the chewed corpses of their human students." Moloch nuzzles the skin, and Solomon shivers with disgust. "What a pathetic idea, don't you think? Our kind will always see you as nothing but the next meal."
Looking at Solomon, he runs his tongue along the exposed skin at his neck and purrs, "I can taste your fear, mortal. Your namesake took much longer to break. It's a shame you will never have the chance."
He looks up at Solomon, likely hoping to see some kind of fear in Solomon's expression.
Solomon spits in his face.
Moloch roars with indignation, and bares his fangs that grow in length with his rage. Solomon's eyes are closed, bracing himself as best he can for whatever happens. Tilting his head in like he's about to rip out Solomon's throat with his teeth, you shout;
"Wait!"
Moloch stills at the last moment, his incisors just barely breaking Solomon's skin. Blood beads at the small cuts, and his eyes slide to you, even as he does not pull away from his position to devour.
"Do you think Diavolo will let you get away with this? Lucifer will kill you. He'll rip you to shreds!" This makes Moloch bark with laughter and pull away from Solomon's neck, which is what you wanted.
You're relieved for a brief moment, but Moloch approaching you is more than enough threat to undo that, "You think I'm afraid of some pathetic fallen angel? Especially one that begs and sits like a dog at the foot of their master?"
Moloch's description of Lucifer sends furious heat through you, fueling your bravado.
"Why not face them, then?" You challenge, "Why kidnap the weakest beings under his protection if you're so powerful?" Imitating the condescending sneer you've seen Lucifer and Satan give, you try to incite his wrath. Solomon's eyes widen as he realizes what you're trying to do, even as he dangles from Moloch's grip. There's concern for you in his eyes, though he's unable to do anything at the moment.
Moloch narrows his eyes, and tosses Solomon to the side like a ragdoll. The other coughs, blood spilling from his lips as he hits the cobblestone floor.
"Your impudence is astounding, and not doing you any favors in securing a quick death," he says, one hand effortlessly grabbing the back of the chair by your head and raising you both upright again. You aren't proud to admit you wince when he first reaches out. He leans in till your noses could touch if you leaned in as well. "You know nothing of our history. You know nothing of what this world should be." He hisses, and you grit your teeth.
"I know enough to know that Diavolo could crush you under his thumb. You're a coward!" You glare at him, even as his rancid breath makes you want to recoil in revulsion. At first, it's more rage that enters his wicked features - but it melts into something more sinister. Something cruel.
"Little lamb, I wonder what you'll taste like after I've had you roasted alive..." His words make your stomach lurch, the demon's magic tightens the vines around you, and you do your best to hide the trembling of your hands, fisted on the armrests. When you have no smartmouthed response for him, he chuckles.
"Make no mistake. You are worthless." He runs a claw down the side of your neck, nicking the skin at your collarbone. He gathers some of the resulting blood as it pools at the cut on his index finger.
"Your heart, however, will be a lovely side dish." Moloch brings his finger to his mouth and licks at your blood. Immediately, his eyes widen, and he coughs.
"Disgusting!" He snarls, shoving the chair back. It breaks apart more under the impact, loosening up the vines enough that you can scramble out of the restraints. You only have a moment. Moloch is retching, distracted by the apparently revolting taste of your blood; you use this opportunity to make a mad dash for Solomon. Supporting his head - bleeding openly from a wound in his hair - in your lap, you reach for his hand.
"Solomon," you say, and bless him, understanding dawns in his eyes before you have to explain anything. He nods, weakly, and then his eyes are closing; your conjoined hands start to glow, and you feel the warm rush of Solomon's magic envelope you.
It's a gamble, there's no real assurance it will work, but what other choice do you have? Like that time in Lord Diavolo's home, Solomon lends you the use of his powers. The brothers are probably tearing the Devildom apart right now; Solomon doesn't need to lend you a lot of power, just enough to let you manifest your own.
You open your lips, "Hear me, denizens of darkness, you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it. Hear me and do as I command!"
Solomon smiles at you, his hand continuing to squeeze encouragingly. "I call upon you to send one of your number!" Moloch stops scraping at his tongue to snarl in your direction.
"What do you think you're doing?" He realizes, genuine panic entering his voice. You glare at him, your own voice growing in confidence as you feel the rising, familiar hum of the pact within you.
Moloch launches himself at the two of you, claws extended -
"I summon the Avatar of Pride, Lucifer!"
Your eyes screw shut at the last moment, shielding Solomon with your own body from Moloch's wrath. When the blow never comes, you open your eyes to look.
"Lucifer!" You cry, unable to hold in your relief. Lucifer, resplendent in his demon form, is standing in front of you. He crouches down to you and Solomon.
"You summoned me," he says, something akin to wonder in his voice as one hand cups your chin, gloved thumb brushing at your cheek. But once he sees the state of your injuries, he narrows his eyes. Slowly standing upright, he turns to the other devil, who is frozen in fear and rage.
"Hello, Moloch." Lucifer says, voice calm, teetering on the edge of cold, ruthless fury. The expression on his face hidden by the angle, but Moloch actually takes a step back. You can't help but squeeze Solomon's hand in pure, unadulterated joy.
"Lucifer." Moloch glares. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Lucifer interrupts by saying your name, and he tilts his head over his shoulders to look at you.
"Please do as I say, and close your eyes. Whatever you hear, keep them shut." You open your mouth to protest, but Lucifer continues, "This is not something you should see."
Another flash of panic crosses Moloch's face, even as the other snarls and prepares for an attack. The overwhelming aura of malice intensifies tenfold as Lucifer looks back at Moloch. Though curiosity makes you not want to listen, something in his warning makes you respect his wishes.
You close your eyes.