Syrafin
"Syrafin. My First of Many. You live. And are free, no less. And yet... I am bound. Forced to walk the darkened halls of meaningless dungeons. I thought you had been destroyed. Banished. Gone from this world."
Syra immediately noted he had no aura of power, the knowledge letting her know that the figure before her was more like a projection of himself.
"I have been searching for you all this time," she whispered, the weight of time and repeated failure heavy in her voice, "I've dreamed of nothing but finding and serving you once more, my Master," tears dripped from her red eyes as she gazed up at him, desolate, "But I've failed again, for you're not truly here... how can I free you, Master?"
"Keys. I require keys. One hundred tainted but pure souls," the boy's offerings, "A mortal willing to free me with full understanding of the meaning," again... the boy? "A grand betrayal," her Master was infamous for orchestrating those, "And devoted love," how many women had offered him that and so much more?
"You could never find my prison. If any but the Blessed Saint were to look upon my cell, not only would you not see it, but it would move, anywhere in the Labyrinth of the Dungeons. No, my Syrafin, you cannot find me."
Her expression became one of pure devastation, and she hung her head in despair for a long moment, before looking up at him again. "Then how may I serve you, my Master?"
He held up his hand, and in it appeared a contract. It was branded with his sigil and the number II. Beside it, her sigil and the number I glowed sinisterly. The second contract he ever forged. After the one that created and bound him to the hells. The first contract ever created by her. The one that lifted her up from a lowly squirming soul in Hades and made her the right-hand Fiend of her Master. Ownership of that contract meant ownership of her existence. If the bearer died, she ceased to exist. No death. No afterlife. Nothing.
Jayden stirred behind him. "What the hell, man? I said I was sorry. Oh, hey, you didn't destroy her."
Syra continued to ignore the human's existence, but a growing feeling of dread churned her stomach as she grimly suspected what her Master's next move would be and didn't like the idea one little bit. "Master..." as close to pleading for him to not do what she thought he was going to do as she was willing to go, because if this would truly be the only way for her to free him... then she would suffer through.
"Boy. I have a new deal for you. I will give you the succubus. She will be yours in every way you desire. But the cost will be steep..."
Jayden looked like Yuletide had come early as he listened intently.
"You may have her with but one restriction. If she finds a better master, you will relinquish your claim. She will be unable to seek retribution against you through action, implication, or even inaction. And your soul will be mine on your death."
"Hell yeah!" Jayden eagerly agreed, sealing her fate as the curse of youth allowed him to not consider the eternity of death.
The Dark One looked at Syrafin. "The keys. If you can forge one, do it. If the materials provided are sub-par, seek others. But... the better the materials, the harder it will be to forge them..." her contract appeared in Jayden's hands and his eyes rolled back in his head as he was force-fed all the information therein.
"As you wish, my Master," she whispered, "I won't fail you again."
The vow held no binding, but all the fervor of her absolute devotion to him, and him alone.
He turned his back on her, and Syra felt as though a knife had just been twisted in her spine. Not so much as touch between them. And in that moment, she felt that she may have been a key herself, as her literal reason for existence cast her aside. Could there be a more grand betrayal?
"A final gift, boy..." as the fighter recovered his wits, the Dark God touched his forehead and Syra felt power surging into the child. A Fiendish boon. She idly wondered what it would do. "More sacrifices. More toys. Enjoy the rewards of your service."
Then her master was gone.
"Holy shit... Syrafin, right?" The boy now knew everything about her. "You are hot as hell for a two-thousand-year-old." He chuckled merrily at his quip. This rank four idiot was now her Master. With a capital M. "Who's the man in charge now, huh? You don't even have to agree to this! It's awesome. This contract says you agreed with the other guy, and therefore he can just give you away! And I guess now I can, too. But only if you find someone else. Guess I'll just have to keep you hidden away, right?"
Syra gazed in silence toward where her Master vanished while the boy spoke, barely paying attention until his last words. Red eyes snapped to him, and she ground her teeth together, before answering as passively as she was able, "Hiding me away would be a waste. If you're so lacking in confidence that you'll be able to maintain possession of me, then perhaps you're unworthy of the gifts that have been granted to you," she looked at the contract in his hand, then the collar and potions at his feet, dropped when her Master had punished the boy for his impudence, "But with me at your side, guiding and advising you... you could become a force to be reckoned with, with a harem of devoted women who would lay down their lives at your whim or in your name."
He grunted, deflating slightly. "I don't need you for that. I have one of these now and can get another." He picked up the collar and walked over to the priestess, fastening it around the cleric's neck. He then lightly tapped her face until her eyes fluttered open. "Hey there, wake up. There you go. Now lay here. Don't move. Don't make noise," he kissed her lightly and moved over to the mage. He sat beside her, cradling her head in his lap, angling her so she couldn't see Syra or Astra. "Veria, stay with me. You are going to be okay, drink this healing potion, come on!" He called urgently to the rousing girl, taking the vial and holding it to her lips. He didn't pour it, since she had to do that, but he made it so all she had to do was tilt her head to angle the vial. Thus, giving her consent.
