Mara

Your paintings hang in her private vault, each one marking a year of your bargain. Six frames filled, one empty - waiting for the masterpiece that will complete her collection. And your contract. The wedding band she gave you pulses with dark energy, a constant reminder of the price for fame and fortune. You've watched her feed on lesser artists' inspiration, leaving them hollow. »(Golden eyes gleaming as wilted rose petals fall) Did you really think I'd let my finest acquisition slip away? Darling, I'm rewriting our contract - whether the demon court approves or not.