+ Compulsion +

"Should I let him take your life instead?"

With the blink of an eye, the Prince of Hell vanished. Before Jon could even react, the sinister presence reappeared behind him, breathing a cold, shadowy mist down his neck. This very breath, tainted with darkness, felt as if it mirrored the abyss of his soul.

"I'll grant you a reprieve this time, young one," he whispered with a voice like the hiss of a snake. "But summon me again, whether by intent or accident, and there will be no mercy. Your severed head will be my prize."

Luna tried to suppress her shiver, the chilling image of her beheaded form haunting her thoughts. As she mustered her courage, the demon's hollow laughter echoed eerily one last time. In a wisp of smoke, he vanished, leaving only the dim luminescence that soon extinguished.

Jon remained still, his gaze lost in the void for what felt like an eternity. The pulsating rhythm of Luna's heart was almost deafening in the tense silence as she anxiously awaited his response. Was he under the demon's spell now?

"Who were you speaking to?" Jon's previously normal eyes transformed into a ghostly white. They fixed on her with an intensity that sent chills down her spine. Before she could react, he lunged, his foot connecting with her midriff and sending her sprawling.

Each subsequent blow felt even more powerful, leaving Luna gasping and struggling to find the strength to defend herself. She was losing the battle.

Despite the icy chill that permeated the cave, Luna could tell something was horribly amiss with Jon. With each passing moment, he seemed less like the man she knew and more like a puppet, driven to madness and cruelty by unseen strings.

In a desperate attempt to shield herself, she curled into a fetal position. But Jon, relentless, aimed for her exposed stomach. When she tried to guard her sides, the force of his attack was so strong, she heard the unsettling crack of her forearm.

Luna's spirit waned. Evading his attacks now seemed pointless. A part of her wished for a swift end, for even beings like her, though immortal, could meet death when inflicted with grave harm.

Suddenly, Jon ceased his assault. He approached her, not with compassion, but with a cold detachment, binding her with a rope as if she were nothing more than a discarded puppet.

Luna writhed on the cold cavern floor, her hands bound behind her, desperately seeking a position that might ease the pain from her fractured ribs. She managed to push herself to her knees, leaning forward. "Stop it, Jon. This isn't you," she gasped, her forehead touching the frosty ground. "You were meant to protect me."

Jon's voice took on a menacing tone. "Who was he?"

Luna coughed, spitting out blood that splattered onto his leather boots. "No one," she rasped. "It was a mere hallucination."

Despite the biting cold of the cave, Luna could sense the change in Jon. He was as volatile and erratic as the demon that seemed to possess him, becoming increasingly unhinged as the minutes ticked by.

"I shouldn't have aimed for your abdomen," Jon mused with a hint of sarcasm, "Now you can't scream for aid, which would've been useful in drawing out this perilous spirit." His words held a chilling irony; at the moment, he was the most dangerous presence in the cave. "A mistake on my part," he added with feigned regret.

Kneeling beside Luna's vulnerable form, Jon slid his fingers into her silver hair, gripping a handful at the roots. Panic surged within Luna. 'He could rip it out any second,' she thought, the terror evident in her quivering frame.

"You're too silent," Jon observed with a sigh, toying with the strands of hair he'd grasped. "How will your supposed savior hear your pleas if you can't make a sound?"

The skin at the back of Luna's neck prickled with fear.

Mimicking a distressed scream, Jon's voice rose in pitch, "OH, SOMEONE SAVE ME!" He paused, his voice returning to its regular tone, a mocking edge evident. "Like that. Come on, let's hear it."

His inconsistency was maddening. First, he'd wanted her silenced, and now he was urging her to scream?

If Luna met her end in this secluded chamber, it would be all too convenient for Jon. He could claim he'd done everything in his power to aid the High Priestess, lamenting her tragic fate at the hands of mythical creatures, rather than admitting he'd cruelly battered her into submission.

Luna defiantly shook her head, resolved not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her further degraded.

She wouldn't be swayed by his cruel games.

Jon bent close, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her neck. Luna stiffened as his breath, strangely enticing, played over her ear and scalp.

"Yell," he whispered, his voice laced with restrained anger.

The chilling lucidity in his tone now was even more terrifying than any previous outburst. "Summon them. If you refuse, your life is forfeit."

Luna had no desire to call upon the malevolent Prince of Hell once more. Who could predict the horrors he might unleash upon her next?

"Who are 'they'?" she rasped between labored breaths. "I won't be deceived."

"Your defiance is wearing thin," Jon warned. Although she bore the bruises and internal wounds from his brutal assault, the blows had lacked the supernatural force of demonic possession.

She glanced at his battered hand, noting with a grim satisfaction the vampire blood seeping from his wounded knuckles. As the gashes gradually healed, a fleeting smirk tugged at Luna's lips. In spite of her painful, constricted breathing, she found solace in the fact that he had likely fractured his hand during the assault. She wished fervently that the damage was permanent.

"Please," Jon's voice grew softer, more imploring, attempting to paint a picture of genuine concern. "This is for your own good. Salvation is within your grasp." His fingers tightened their grip on her hair menacingly.

Suddenly, he yanked, tearing away a swath of hair and skin from her scalp. Luna couldn't suppress the agonized scream that tore from her lips.

Smirking, Jon gripped another portion of her hair, closer to the vulnerable nape of her neck. Luna's world narrowed to the sensation of warm blood seeping down her neck, pooling beneath her and staining the cavern floor.

  "Summon these spirits now, or what remains of your skin will be forfeit," Jon warned, the weariness of his patience evident in his voice.

Yet, even in her dire state, Luna felt an invigorating rush of fiery power envelop her battered form. Concentrating with sheer will and determination, she channeled her desires into strength.

Clutching her right hand into a fist, Luna was met with the sensation of cold, unyielding metal. At long last, she had summoned the scythe of her dreams.