The night reeked of smoke and sin.

He stood at the crossroads where the earth was cracked, the soil blackened as though something unholy had burned it long ago. The moon hung low and swollen, bleeding silver light onto the deserted field.

Ronan’s chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. His clothes were torn, his hands still stained with the blood of the men he’d killed just hours before. Soldiers, bandits, it no longer mattered—his enemies always multiplied, and no blade, no army, ever seemed enough to protect what was his.

But tonight was different. Tonight, he was ready to pay the price.

The stories had whispered about this place. If a man wanted more than mortal hands could grasp, if he was desperate enough, the Devil himself would answer.

So Ronan had come.

He dropped to one knee, pressing his hand into the scorched dirt. His voice shook, but his resolve did not.

“Lucifer. Prince of Darkness. Lord of Fire. I call to you.”

For a long moment, nothing stirred. The wind was dead, the air heavy as though the world itself was listening.

Then, the silence broke.

A laugh, low and mocking, echoed across the field. Shadows crawled along the ground, twisting into the shape of a man. His suit was black as midnight, his eyes molten gold, and when he smiled, it was with the hunger of a predator.

“Well,” the Devil said smoothly, “what a bold little mortal we have here.” He tilted his head, studying Ronan as though he were a fascinating insect. “Soaked in blood, yet still breathing. Tell me, why call for me? Do you seek riches? Glory? A kingdom?”

Ronan’s jaw clenched. He met the Devil’s gaze, refusing to flinch.

“I want power. Enough to crush my enemies. Enough to protect what’s mine. Enough that no man, no army, no king, will ever take it from me again.”

The Devil chuckled, circling him like smoke. “Ambitious. Dangerous. I like that.” His voice was velvet, yet sharp enough to cut. “But everything has a price. What are you willing to give?”

Ronan hesitated only a heartbeat. “Whatever it takes.”

The Devil’s smile widened. “Oh, I do love men like you. Brave enough to sell their souls, blind enough to believe they can bargain with me.” He stepped closer, his shadow stretching long and crooked. “Very well. I’ll give you strength beyond any mortal. Speed. Power. Fear itself will tremble at your name.”

A pause. The Devil leaned in, his golden eyes burning.

“But when the moon rises, when its light touches you, you will be mine. The beast inside will answer only to me.”

Ronan’s chest tightened, though he did not understand. Beast? He ignored the unease clawing at him. Power was all that mattered.

“And if I refuse?” he asked.

The Devil’s laughter rang out, rich and cruel. “You already called me, boy. There is no refusal. Only acceptance… or death.”

The ground cracked beneath Ronan’s feet, heat spilling upward as though Hell itself waited just beneath the soil. Flames licked at the air, surrounding them in a circle of fire.

Ronan’s fists clenched. His pride screamed against surrender, but his hunger was louder. He thought of the blood, the screams, the endless battles that left him hollow. If damnation was the cost, so be it.

“I accept,” he said through gritted teeth.

The Devil’s grin was wicked, triumphant. “Excellent.”

The fire surged, and pain exploded through Ronan’s body. He collapsed to the ground, his bones snapping, twisting, reshaping. His nails lengthened into claws, his teeth sharpened into fangs. His scream turned into a howl, raw and unearthly, tearing through the night.

The Devil watched with delight, his golden eyes glowing brighter.

“Rise, my wolf,” he commanded, his voice echoing with dark power.

Ronan staggered upright, though he no longer stood as a man. His body was fur and muscle, his senses burning alive. Every sound, every scent, every heartbeat in the world roared in his ears. Hunger tore at him, violent and insatiable.

He caught his reflection in the Devil’s eyes—monstrous, savage, a beast born of sin.

Terror clawed through him, but it was drowned by something darker: power.

For the first time, he felt unstoppable.

The Devil leaned close, whispering like a lover into his ear.

“Remember, wolf… you are mine. And one day, you will pay in blood.”

Then the fire died, the shadows melted, and Ronan was left alone at the crossroads. The taste of ash lingered on his tongue, the echo of his howl still trembling in the night.

He had what he wanted. Strength. Power. Fear itself.

But deep inside, where the man still trembled within the monster’s skin, he knew the truth.

He hadn’t made a bargain.

He had signed his damnation.