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“Damn. I did not see any of that coming.” ~ Celise

T he room pulsed with dark energy, each beat like a drum in her veins.

Celise stepped to the next circle, the warlock within its confines still struggling against the invisible bindings of the blood-magic circle.

The woman’s black robes were smeared with dirt and magic residue, her once-confident sneer now replaced with a mask of fear.

“You thought you were untouchable, didn’t you?” Celise drawled. She twirled the dagger lazily between her fingers as she moved closer, her steps measured and deliberate. The sound of her boots against the wooden floor was sharp and echoed in the tense silence of the room.

The warlock spat at Celise, and the glob of saliva landed near her boot. “You’re no better than me, sprite,” she hissed, her voice trembling despite the venom in her words. “You think you’re righteous, but you’re just another monster hiding behind a pretty face.”

Celise smirked and crouched down just out of the warlock’s reach. The dagger stilled in her hand, its blade catching the faint, flickering light of the candles. “You’re right,” she said sweetly. “I am a monster. But unlike you, I don’t pretend to be anything else.”

The warlock’s defiance faltered as her dark eyes darted to the dagger and then back to Celise’s face. The air between them was thick with tension, the metallic tang of blood from the pixie still hanging heavily in the room.

Celise tilted her head, her smirk widening. “You spent your life taking from others. Power, lives, whatever you wanted. Did you really think there wouldn’t be a reckoning?”

The warlock’s hands clawed at the invisible bindings around her wrists. “You don’t have to do this! I can help you! I know spells, secrets—things you’ve never even dreamed of. Let me go, and I’ll share them with you!” Celise could hear the warlock’s desperation.

Celise’s laughter cut through the warlock’s pleas like a blade. “Oh, you poor, pathetic thing,” she mocked. “You really think you have anything I need?”

Without another word, Celise stepped into the circle. The warlock’s body jerked as the magic surged around them, binding them together in a web of power. Celise felt the pull immediately, the dark essence of the warlock’s magic clawing at her like a living thing.

The warlock screamed as Celise raised the dagger, her voice raw and piercing. “No! Please! Don’t?—”

The blade plunged into the warlock’s chest, silencing her mid-sentence. The sound of steel meeting flesh was wet and sickening, and it was followed by the crackling of raw magic as the circle absorbed the warlock’s essence.

Celise twisted the blade. She stared, unflinching, as the woman’s body spasmed beneath her.

Blood poured from the wound, pooling around them and soaking into the lines of the circle.

The warlock’s magic flared one last time—a desperate, chaotic burst that sent shivers through the air before it was snuffed out entirely.

The room seemed to hold its breath as the warlock’s body went limp, her head lolling to the side. Her dark eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling, and her lips parted in a final, silent plea.

Felspar’s voice rose behind Celise, his chanting growing louder and more insistent. The air around them crackled with power. Each word he spoke wove the spell tighter, binding the stolen magic to Celise’s sisters.

“How is your magic?” Celise turned her head toward Limaria.

The silver-haired sprite held up her hands, her expression unreadable as she stared at the faint glow emanating from her palms. “It’s back,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with awe.

Celise gave a curt nod, her gaze flicking to the other two circles. “Good. Let’s finish this.”

She moved to the troll next. Its massive body trembled with barely contained rage. The stench of rotting flesh clung to it, and Celise’s stomach churned as she stepped closer.

“You’ve lived your whole life preying on the weak. Now, you’ll finally be good for something.”

The troll roared at Celise, its voice shaking the walls, but it couldn’t break free of the circle’s magic. Celise didn’t hesitate. She drove her dagger into its thick neck, the blade sinking deep into the leathery flesh.

The troll’s blood was black and viscous, and it poured out in thick streams that hissed as it hit the glowing lines of the circle. The smell was putrid, a nauseating mix of sulfur and decay that made Celise’s eyes water.

The creature’s struggles grew weaker, and its massive hands clawed at the floor as its life drained away. Celise watched impassively, her grip steady on the dagger as the troll’s body finally stilled.

“Three down,” she muttered, pulling the blade free.

She turned to the fae. “And now for you.”

The fae didn’t struggle as Celise stepped into his circle. He simply stared at her, his golden eyes filled with a strange mix of defiance and resignation.

“You think you’re better than us.” His voice was calm. “But you’re just like me. Like all of us.”

Celise’s smile didn’t waver. “Maybe. But the difference is, I win.”

The blade flashed in the candlelight, and the fae’s life ended in a single, clean stroke.

The air in the room grew heavy with the power from the four sacrifices swirling around them like a living thing. Felspar’s chanting reached a crescendo, and his voice echoed off the walls as the stolen magic was drawn into the blood circles.

Celise stepped back, her chest heaving as she watched her sisters. The energy flowed into them, and their bodies trembled as their powers were restored. The room filled with a blinding light—a brilliant, searing glow that burned away the shadows.

Celise’s sisters stood in the center of the room, their eyes wide with wonder as they flexed their fingers to test their renewed strength.

“It’s done.” Felspar’s voice was hoarse. “Their power is restored.”

“Excellent.” Celise had things to destroy, humans to kill, and havoc to wreak. She lifted her hands, splitting the air open. “Let’s go.”

She stepped through another portal, her sisters following close behind.

New York City awaited, and Celise had every intention of making it burn.

Her dark cloak billowed behind her as the humid night air of the city rushed to greet her.

The lights of Times Square assaulted her senses—flashing neon advertisements, massive LED screens, and glowing billboards that stretched high into the sky, displaying their relentless messages of consumerism.

The press of humanity was suffocating. Bodies jostled and weaved through the crowds, and the laughter and conversations blended into a cacophony of chaotic noise.

Her sisters followed, their presence causing a ripple in the air, a disturbance that was almost imperceptible to the humans but unmistakable to those with supernatural senses.

Crestia’s smug grin widened as she looked around, her gaze lighting on the bustling crowds like a predator surveying its prey.

Limaria’s silver hair shimmered under the fluorescent glow as she folded her arms, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp.

Thraya and Hishta lingered at the edges of the portal, their postures tense but their gazes hungry for destruction.

Celise inhaled deeply, the scents of the city filling her lungs. There was the sharp tang of exhaust fumes, the cloying sweetness of food from nearby vendors, and, beneath it all, the faint, metallic tang of fear. She couldn’t help the cruel smile that spread across her lips.

“Times Square,” she murmured. “The heart of humanity’s greed and vanity. How fitting.”

Crestia stepped forward, her heels clicking against the pavement as she surveyed the massive screens that dominated the square. “So much noise.” She wrinkled her nose. “Let’s see how quiet we can make it.”

Celise raised a hand, and dark energy coiled at her fingertips like living shadows.

The air around her grew heavy, thick with the weight of her magic, and the hum of power crackled like static electricity.

She waved her hand lazily, as if swatting at a fly, and the nearest electronic billboard shattered with a deafening boom .

Shards of glass rained down onto the street below, glittering like deadly confetti as the crowd erupted into screams.

The chaos began instantly.

The massive LED screens flickered and went dark one by one, their vibrant colors replaced by an eerie, pulsing glow of black and crimson.

Sparks flew from the exposed wiring, the sharp smell of burning electronics filling the air.

People screamed and scattered. Their panicked voices rose above the din as they shoved and pushed, desperate to escape the epicenter of destruction.

Celise’s sisters joined in with her, their powers surging with renewed strength.

Crestia raised her hands, and a wave of shadows swept over a nearby food cart, reducing it to ash in seconds.

The vendor barely had time to leap out of the way, his terrified shouts lost in the roar of the destruction.

Limaria’s silver hair glowed faintly as she unleashed a blast of raw energy at a line of parked cars, sending them hurtling into the air like toys.

They crashed to the ground in a cacophony of twisted metal and shattered glass.

Thraya and Hishta moved through the chaos like wraiths.

Their hands glowed with dark magic as they sent bolts of energy racing through the crowd.

Streetlights exploded in showers of sparks, plunging entire sections of the square into darkness.

The air was thick with smoke and the acrid stench of burning plastic, which mingled with the metallic tang of blood as the first casualties fell.

And then the demons came.