A Contract
In the heart of Kamar-Taj, Lucia in commoner wear was a quiet, foreign presence among the monks and scholars, who glanced curiously at her as she passed, following the Ancient One down marble corridors lined with flickering candles. Despite her youth, she carried herself with the maturity of an elder, cultivated through years of experience and change.
The Ancient One led her into a spacious chamber where ancient tomes and scrolls lay scattered, their pages inscribed with languages lost to time. Shelves climbed up the walls, filled with artifacts of all shapes and sizes, each radiating a silent power. The Ancient One gestured for her to sit, then took a seat across from her.
"Let us be clear," the Ancient One began, her voice calm and measured. "Mephisto, though like a stubborn roach within Earth, is no mere demon. He is a being of immense cunning and cruelty, existing in myriad forms across dimensions. He thrives on bargains that entrap, on contracts that twist his victims' desires into their downfall. To trick him, you’ll need to match his level of deceit—a feat not easily learned or executed."
Lucia nodded, her eyes calm. "I’ve studied him, watched the way he operates. He thinks humans, and even sorcerers, are nothing more than pawns to manipulate. Not to mention, I barely hold any magic in my blood... He won’t see me as a threat. That arrogance is his weakness."
"True," the Ancient One acknowledged. "But he’s also deeply protective of his throne, which is the source of his power and immortality. Without it, he is just another demon. Convincing him to give it up willingly is another matter entirely."
Lucia leaned forward, lowering her voice. "I have an idea. I’ve seen how he binds people to his contracts—how he draws them into bargains they think are in their favor. What if I played the same game against him? What if I used the contracts he loves so much to trick him into transferring his dominion, even if temporarily?"
The Ancient One’s eyes flashed with interest. "And how would you gain his agreement for a deal? He would sense any deception, any hint of a lie."
"I know," Lucia replied, her expression hardening. "But I am the one on the weak end—in his eyes, a young girl eager to learn, to be powerful in a way that mortals can’t… He may see me as easy prey... He won’t expect me to turn his own contracts against him. After all, even a lion isn’t always on guard against a rabbit. I just need one chance."
The Ancient One considered this in silence, then nodded slowly. "It is ambitious and dangerous. To do so, you would have to bind your soul to his realm, becoming something neither fully mortal nor fully demonic. Once bound, there would be no release unless you fully succeed—or fall."
"I understand," Lucia replied, her voice unwavering. "If I succeed, I gain his throne, a realm that would allow me to explore magic and protect Earth. And if I fail..." She took a deep breath, meeting the Ancient One’s gaze. "Then I will take that risk."
For a moment, the Ancient One’s serene mask softened, revealing a hint of concern. "Know this: even the smallest act of betrayal may cost you more than you’re willing to sacrifice. In Mephisto’s realm, power is not easily surrendered."
Lucia nodded resolutely, and with that, the Ancient One began her teachings, preparing the young girl for the most dangerous gambit of her life.
Every day, Lucia spent her time acting as Ms. Marigold's simple, kindhearted niece. Every night, she would slip away for lessons with the Ancient One, hidden from the gaze of Mephisto. Charms of concealment, disguise, and mind-shielding, and runes of similar nature filled her nights.
Days turned into weeks as Lucia immersed herself in the Ancient One's teachings. Each lesson was a battle against the limits of her own perception, pushing her mind to new boundaries. Magic, the kind that reached beyond the walls of this reality, began to reveal its deepest secrets. The texts she studied were incomprehensible to most, filled with runes and sigils that shimmered on the edge of her understanding. Each day, she felt herself drawing closer to the demon she intended to outwit.
Under the Ancient One's guidance, Lucia honed her skills in the subtle art of manipulation—the magic of illusion, of bending others' perceptions without leaving a trace. She had to master the art of deception, for Mephisto was not merely a demon of brute strength; he was a master of minds, a manipulator of wills. To defeat him, Lucia had to think like him.
One afternoon, after a particularly grueling lesson in binding and unbinding souls, the Ancient One sat her down in front of a large stone slab in a secluded room. The air was thick with incense, the walls lined with glowing symbols. The atmosphere was quiet, almost reverential. It had been a month since her first lesson.
"Lucia," the Ancient One began, her tone unusually somber. "I have taught you these lessons throughout multiverses—some instances identical to this one, some different. Yet your failure or success always falls into the hands of fate. The power you seek is not easily claimed, nor easily relinquished. Mephisto has existed in this dimension for millennia. He will not underestimate you, not for a moment. And if you fail..."
Lucia’s heart thudded in her chest, but she kept her gaze steady. "I won’t fail."
The Ancient One looked deeply into her eyes. "You have failed, and suffered for it."
"But I've also succeeded and thrived from it. Haven't I?"
"..."
The Ancient One fell silent, then held up seven fingers. "Seven times."
Lucia smiled at the revelation. "That sounds like good chances to me."
That evening, Lucia returned to town, her mind brimming with everything she had learned. She knew that Mephisto would be watching, perhaps even waiting. He was patient—his power fed on the fear of others, and in a town like this, fear was in abundance. But Lucia had learned how to mask her fear, how to cloak her intentions in layers of decoys and illusions.
She slipped back into the guise of the naive girl, a figure to be ignored by the people around her. But there was no more fear in her. Only purpose. She made her way through the town, weaving through the streets as the sun began to dip below the horizon.
She prepped a bag full of what she needed: potions, charms, runic talismans (her own creations), and most importantly, a thick stack of paper filled with clauses and legal terms to prepare for the upcoming meeting.
She had found the perfect place—the church, where Father Ambrose held his nightly services. It was there that she would make her move, where Mephisto would show himself.
As Lucia stood in the shadows, hidden by the night’s cloak, she felt a shift in the air. The temperature dropped, and a flicker of red light passed through the alleyway. A figure stepped out from the darkness—tall, cloaked in shadow, with an air of twisted elegance.
Mephisto stepped from the shadows, his presence oozing with dark power at least in Lucia's eyes. He studied Lucia with a bemused smile.
“A witch's child? I did sense something... faint... from Marigold. So, you’re her niece? How disappointing,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain.
Lucia met his gaze, her expression steady. 'Good. He hasn't seen anything. Time to act.'
"I know what you’ve been doing,” she said, her voice mimicking a naive girl, steady but edged with anger. “You’ve been terrorizing these people and blaming it on witches."
Mephisto raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk curling his lips. “And what are you going to do about it, little witch who can barely muster any magic? I doubt you've come to fight?”
She squared her shoulders, her voice unwavering. “I've read about your kind before... I want to make a deal with you. Leave this town in peace, and I’ll offer something in return.”
Mephisto’s grin widened in a teasing manner as he sat leisurely in a church pew, a flicker of intrigue in his eyes. “A deal? With you? What could a little girl like you possibly offer me?”
She took a breath, gathering her resolve. Remember the lessons, she thought. His favorite prey is those who think they have the upper hand.
"I’m willing to swear my soul to you," she said, her voice tinged with nervousness. "A sliver of myself, in exchange for your compliance. But in return, you’ll stop your games with these villagers."
"A sliver of a witch’s soul? Hardly worth my time. Do you think I’m easily impressed?"
Lucia met his gaze without flinching. "My soul is different. I hold a talent that can be far more useful to you than a handful of souls. But unlike the others, I won’t be easy to fool."
This is exactly what the demon loves in his prey: defiant, noble, yet stupidly sure of their decisions. He’s probably laughing at me this very moment, waiting to revel in my screams as he tears me down in the end.
"A talent?" he scoffed. "Hopefully, it’s not the pitiful amount of magic in your blood, or I’d really have to laugh at your foolishness."
Lucia removed the tie holding her hair in a bun. Her brown hair and eyes reverted to their original form, and her face took on an inhuman beauty that even made Mephisto’s eyes widen for a moment. But his attention quickly shifted to her piercing purple eyes, which seemed to see through him. As he channeled his magic, he noticed faint demonic runes reflected in her crystalline gaze, and even stranger, eldritch runes appeared above him.
He teleported closer to inspect, confirming his suspicion. This mortal, no matter how weak her magic might be, could see magic in its most primal form—something that neither he nor the Ancient One had achieved due to the constraints of biology.
Lucia tensed at the sudden closeness and quickly pushed him away. “What are you—” she began, maintaining the persona of a naive yet justice-driven young girl.
"Are your eyes something you were born with?" Mephisto interrupted, too preoccupied with the runes he could see.
"Yes, I was born with this ability," she replied, irritated, tying her hair back and reverting to the simple appearance of a brown-eyed, brown-haired girl once more.
"Ahh, and I suppose this is how you figured out my identity?"
"I mean, the pillar of dark magic rising above the town is quite obvious," she said, glancing at the skyline of Boston.
Following her gaze, Mephisto saw only the golden sheen of the barrier, none of the eldritch or dark magic runes she mentioned.
“Only you would think that, little witch,” he chuckled in disbelief. But as a multiversal being, he wasn’t surprised. His long life had taught him that sometimes people are unbelievably lucky. It was rare, however, for such beings to serve themselves up on a silver platter.
“All right, little witch, we have a deal.” He waved his hand to reveal a contract. “Sign here, and I’ll leave your precious town alone.”
“…Not so fast. I’ve heard about demons and their tricks—I’ve written the contract myself,” she said stubbornly, backing away from the floating contract, wary of any binding by mere touch.
“Heh, all right, let’s see what you’ve got,” the demon sneered, reaching for whatever contract the naive girl had put together.
"Good. We should sit down; this will take a while." She nodded, pulling out a thick stack of papers nearly four feet tall, filled top to bottom with clauses, each word meticulously defined.
With a snap of his fingers, Mephisto conjured an office with mahogany furniture, including a desk, a straight-backed chair, and an ornate, throne-like office chair adorned with brass embellishments and royal purple velvet padding. Mephisto seated himself in the throne as a quill pen and bottle of ink floated nearby, ready to record their negotiations.
As Lucia settled into her chair, her mind was filled with tempting voices offering seductive promises. Each voice sought to weaken her resolve, but she focused, extracting meaning from every word without allowing herself to be swayed.
Amused, Mephisto conjured even more pages as their contract evolved into a test of endurance and cunning.
Lucia began by notarizing an affidavit, affirming that she was participating voluntarily and not as an agent for anyone else. She sought the ability to use magic freely without mental or physical interference from otherworldly forces and to ensure Boston's safety. In exchange, she would grant Mephisto a legal identity on Earth, with biological ties to her, allowing him to gain Efficacio's ability of sight—a firstborn son that he could use as an avatar to sneak past Kamar-Taj's barrier for good. Mephisto found it a reasonable deal but demanded her soul after her death.
Lucia declined the after-death clause.
When speaking of regular clauses such as word specifications and lower teri causes the voices were hushed. Occasionally However, the voices would rise in pitch whenever she tried to alter or reject Mephisto’s clauses, claiming that she didn’t truly desire the request or was trying to bypass the cost. These moments were frequent when these requests regarded the safety of others or affected souls, but she quickly grew used to the screeching howls and whispers, they were a useful tool to stay awake.
In turn, Lucia added a clause specifying that any requests granted must be fulfilled exactly as stated, without alteration or challenge, and changes could only happen after a discussion between both parties, where Both parties must be of sound mind and body. Additionally, repayments would not exceed the emotional or physical pain equivalent to the desire behind the request, with this balance calculated by an unbiased third party of higher power.
Around the 41-hour mark, Lucia found herself nearly passed out from exhaustion but continued on, by utilizing the potions she’d prepared beforehand, allowing her to remain in peak mental condition for another 41 hours. She noted with a chuckle that Mephisto's mannerisms bore an eerie resemblance to her first-year contracts professor from law school in her first life.
At the 82-hour mark, and downing another potion, their agreement draft reached nearly 900 pages, excluding exhibits and schedules. Lucia requested a copy to review at her own pace before finalizing any terms.
By the hundredth hour, Lucia’s draft had grown beyond a thousand pages. She meticulously reviewed every clause, insisting on precision, and by this time, Mephisto had long lost his mocking smile, his face frozen in a frown as he read the countless pages. Objecting to some and specifying others.
After a gruelling 114 hours of negotiations, Lucia finally finalized a safety clause ensuring no harm would be pushed upon her until both sides of the deal were fulfilled to completion.
Finally, after 304 hours of continuous bargaining, the preliminary draft was completed, each clause fitted with at least 40 subclasses, some subclasses in turn having subclasses. Almost every term specified to remove any aspect of ambiguity in the contract that could be used to the other's benefit. In turn, forming a document over 5,000 pages long.
Lucia left the subdimension with a brain in its last bits of strength and on the brink of collapse, yet she firmly grasped a record of her intense and unyielding negotiation. She would likely have the Ancient One review it as a secondary eye before the second round of negotiations began.
But first, she needed to sleep. Wiping her bloody nose, Lucia collapsed into the cot at Ms. Marigold’s house of both mental and physical exhaustion, not before doing a healing potion beforehand to deal with the side effects of being awake for 12 and a half days.
(End of chapter)