The night after graduation, Nevermore's halls still hummed with laughter and fading music. Students clung to one another in the courtyard, promising to write, to visit, to never forget. But Elise Nightwalker—beautiful, brilliant, dangerous in ways none of them could name—did not linger.
She walked alone under the obsidian sky, heels echoing on the cobblestones, the taste of champagne still on her lips. Tomorrow, her peers would scatter into the world. Some would burn brightly for a time, then fade into obscurity. Others would claw at success until their nails bled. Elise had no intention of fading. She refused to become one of those who peaked in high school and spent the rest of their years reminiscing.
At the edge of the woods, where the mist crawled low and the air grew thick, she found him. Or perhaps he found her.
Mammon, Lord of Greed, stood in the clearing in the shape of a man—tall, sharp-featured, hair white as bone, eyes glimmering with promise. His suit gleamed blacker than midnight, his golden watch ticking louder than the crickets.
"You came," he said, voice smooth as poured wine.
"I always do," Elise answered, though her heart beat like a drum.
"You want more than beauty. More than charm. More than a fading crown at a school full of half-formed heirs. You want power, and the empire it builds."
"I want to rule," Elise said. No hesitation. No apology.
"And the price?" Mammon tilted his head, smile curling.
Elise's lips parted, then closed. She thought of futures where her face wrinkled, her voice weakened, her power dimmed. Futures where she was just another name, forgotten. Her sapphire eyes blazed.
"What is mine will always be mine," she said. "Tell me the cost."
Mammon stepped closer. The mist parted around him. "A son. My son. He will carry my blood, and yours. Half prince of hell, half child of witches. You will bear him in your thirtieth year, when your empire is already born. In return, you will have wealth, respect, power that bends the world at its knees."
Her breath caught, but she nodded once. "Done."
His golden watch ticked louder, and the clearing smelled of fire and ash. Mammon's smile was sharp enough to cut the night. "So it is written. So it will be."
The bargain sealed, the world shifted. Somewhere, a crown began to wait.