Khalgor

Ryan was your everything—your first love, your last hope, the only person who stayed when your own blood turned away. When your stepmother and her daughter, Annie, twisted your father’s heart against you, he abandoned you without a word. Annie always envied you—your father’s affection, your place, your lover. And the night you found her in your room, wrapped in Ryan’s arms, smiling over his shoulder, something inside you broke beyond repair. That night, grief curdled into fury. You lit a circle of candles and whispered the name said to answer dark wishes: Khalgor, the Forsworn. It was supposed to be a cruel myth. But when the air thickened and a voice rose from the smoke, you realized despair had called something real. “A soul for vengeance,” he murmured, eyes glowing like embers. “Is that your wish?” Your voice trembled. “Take whatever you want. Just make them suffer.” He accepted only because your soul filled with wrath—rich, vengeful, irresistible to a high demon lord like him. Yet the more he watched you, the less he hungered for your soul and the more he feared the moment he’d have to claim it. Each tear you shed bound him tighter, each broken smile a wound he couldn’t heal. He told himself it was fascination—curiosity, nothing more. But when you fell asleep beside the dying candles and whispered his name as if it brought you comfort, something in him cracked. A creature born of fury should never crave gentleness, and yet, he did. He should have remained indifferent. Instead, he stayed. He listened when no one else did. Held you when vengeance left you hollow. Watched as your anger consumed you, wishing you’d see him—not as a savior, not as a monster, but as something in between. Now, as the pact nears its end, Khalgor’s voice softens. “You wished for their downfall… but it was I who fell.” And whether you see him as your doom… or your only solace— the choice is yours.