DEMON’S PLAYBOARD

Oroth’s next card showed a crumbling bridge. The ground beneath him shuddered, and cracks formed in the stone well. The demon’s grin faltered for a moment before he drew another card, eager to regain control.

The game continued, each card bringing new twists. Mickel’s key unlocked a hidden door in the forest, revealing a cache of ancient coins. Oroth’s serpent grew larger, its eyes glowing with malice. The torch kept the shadows at bay, but the crumbling bridge forced Mickel to leap over widening gaps in the ground………….

As the deck dwindled, the stakes grew higher. Mickel’s final card showed a radiant sun, its light banishing the remaining darkness. Oroth drew his last card and froze. It depicted a chain wrapped around a flaming heart.

The chains materialized, wrapping around Oroth and pulling him to the ground. The demon’s laughter turned to a roar of frustration as the flames consumed him. “You’ve won this round, boy,” he growled, his voice fading. “But the game is far from over.”

The forest trembled, and the well collapsed into rubble. Mickel found himself standing at the edge of the woods, the dawn breaking behind him. The cards, the lantern, and the coins were gone, but the key remained in his hand.

When he returned home, his grandmother was waiting, her eyes filled with both rMickelef and dread. “What have you done, Mickel?” she whispered.

Mickel looked at the key, its silver surface gleaming in the morning light. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I think I’m ready to find out.”

For weeks, the key remained with Mickel, growing warmer each time he touched it, as if reacting to his thoughts. Strange occurrences began to follow him. Shadows seemed to move on their own, and he often caught glimpses of glowing eyes in mirrors and windows. The villagers noticed too, murmuring about the boy who had changed. His grandmother watched him with a mix of love and fear, unsure of how to protect him from the unknown.

One night, as he lay in bed staring at the key on his nightstand, a soft knock echoed from his window. Startled, Mickel turned to see Oroth, his figure shrouded in faint smoke, standing outside. The demon’s chains glimmered faintly, tethering him to some unseen anchor. His eyes burned brighter than before, filled with a strange mix of amusement and urgency.

“May I come in?” Oroth asked, his voice low and smooth.

Mickel hesitated but nodded. The demon stepped through the window, his presence filling the room with an unnatural chill. “Why are you here?” Mickel asked, clutching the key.

“Because the game, dear boy, is not over,” Oroth said, settling into a chair with a grace that bMickeled his form. “You hold a key to something far greater than you realize. But keys, you see, are useless without locks. And I happen to know where your lock is hidden.”

Mickel’s heart raced. “Why would you tell me?”

Oroth leaned forward, his grin sharp and predatory. “Because I’m bound by those chains to aid you. A consequence of our last game. But do not mistake my help for altruism. The path ahead is fraught with danger, and each step will test you.”

Mickel’s grip tightened on the key. “Where is it?”

“Deep within the forest,” Oroth said. “Beyond the well, past the ancient trees that whisper secrets, lies a door older than time itself. The key you hold will open it. But be warned: what lies beyond may not be what you expect.”

Despite the demon’s ominous words, Mickel felt a pull stronger than fear. The next morning, armed with the key and his lantern, he ventured into the forest once more. The path to the well had changed, twisting in ways that defied logic. Oroth followed, his chains dragging softly behind him, a constant reminder of the stakes.

As they journeyed deeper, the forest grew darker and stranger. The trees seemed alive, their branches forming faces that whispered as Mickel passed. The air grew thick, making it hard to breathe. But Mickel pressed on, driven by curiosity and a sense of destiny.

Finally, they reached the door. It was massive, carved from black stone and covered in intricate runes that glowed faintly. The key in Mickel’s hand grew hot, almost unbearable to touch. Oroth stood back, his expression unreadable. “This is where our paths diverge,” the demon said. “The door is yours to open, but beyond it, you’re on your own.”

Mickel swallowed hard, his heart pounding. He inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The runes flared brightly, and the door creaked open, revealing a swirling void of light and shadow. Without looking back, Mickel stepped through, ready to face whatever awaited him on the other side.