Succubae’s don’t cry

A grey and cold winter’s day, Opal is standing outside brooding…

- Opal... they called

- Why don’t you come in from the cold and join us?

To herself she mutters.

- Shows what they know. I am of demon kin. We feel no cold, no warmth, no remorse, no conscience, and no love. We are the soulless collectors of souls. Therefore they hate and shun me, the horned one, the hoofed one, the one who bargain for souls.

Shows how much they know…

They say I steal men’s souls. Why should I do such a thing?

They give them up for earthly pleasures, thinking that their wow is not binding…

It is not their signature of blood that will bind them to the contract, if I bothered to use such.

It is their deed, the path they choose, that will lead them to their doom…

I always get their souls in the end. And those souls I compress to beautiful gems, glistening opals that gave me my name…

Oh, some of them think they can break their contract, to flee or overcome me, to win the back what they bargained, they will fight and scream, but never realize that the sentence of doom was made by themselves.