Dantalion of the Goetia: Taste the Obsession of a Demon

Dantalion emerged in true demon form, like the night I evoked him, yellow-amber eyes, nails all out, dagger- like. An animal pelt covered his long hair, and his bare arms revealed another type of demonic seal on his other forearm. A bronze medallion hung around his neck. He commanded fire from his hands and cast it into the center of the stone pillars forming a circle by the altar, creating a fiery pit. Moving closer to me, he gazed at my demonic form.

"I fear thee hath changed," smiling at what he saw.

I was pleased I did not look as hideous as I thought. "What is done must be undone."

"You know why I am here?" I asked, breathless. Dantalion knew. No change in my physical body or mortality could keep him from me.

He passed one of his razor claws through the fire and began etching into my flesh the other demonic seal he wore on his arm. I writhed in pain.

"I thought demons were immune to human emotion!" I yelled.

"Some can control it," he said smugly.

I knew he would never hurt me. This was part of something bigger. Something he was about to "undo".

"Stay still…" he commanded. I did what he said. Once the seal was completed, he moved his arms over my bleeding flesh, instantly healing the sigil. His powers were so intense, so controlled, and effortless. Dantalion marked the ground with a circle surrounding the altar where I was still bound in chains. He scratched several different symbols inside the circle, raising his claws to command the fire higher inside it. He traced a triangle to the East, several feet away from the circle, marking the triangle with symbols, thirty-six of them, to be exact. I knew from the Goetia that Dantalion governed thirty-six legions of spirits. He no longer had power over the angelic order, so these symbols must be the demonic spirits he was about to command. He leaned toward me inside the circle, closer to where I was bound to the altar, eyes glowing yellow-amber still. I felt a wave of relief, being so close to him again, though under the worst of situations. His claws pressed against mine, seals on my forearms now identical to his, claws scratching my skin. The coldness I once felt from his flesh was now burning hot.

He whispered to me, "Even the fallen can reclaim their salvation. Mine wears the face of a mortal girl."

He still didn't know! He thought I was mortal. I wonder if he would have followed through the night I evoked him, had he known my blood was immortal.