In the void between realms, where shadows unfold, A demon, named Azrael, with powers untold. With skin of obsidian, eyes ablaze with fire, A creature of chaos, with a penchant for desire.
One day in the abyss, where darkness held sway, Azrael yearned for rest, for a brief holiday. His horns, though fearsome, drooped with weariness, As the demon sought refuge in a realm of quietness.
Yet, the incantations of a mortal, echoed far and near, Summoning Azrael, the demon they wished to appear. With reluctance in every step, he crossed the divide, From the nether realms, to the mortal's side.
A pentagram etched in chalk, a summoning array, In a dimly lit room where candles flickered in disarray. The mortal, a conjurer with ambition untamed, Seeking power from Azrael, whose reputation was famed.
Azrael, however, craved respite from the infernal game, Dreaming of a hammock, where shadows never came. His demonic wings unfolded, heavy with fatigue, As he appeared before the mortal, his demeanor intrigues.
With a yawn that echoed through the mortal's plea, Azrael spoke, "What is it that you desire from me?" The mortal, undeterred by the demon's disdain, Requested power and riches, to ease their earthly pain.
Yet, Azrael's mind wandered to a realm of repose, Where he could recline, free from mortal throes. "I tire of deals and infernal trades," he sighed, "Can we not settle this swiftly, so I may return to the quiet side?"
The mortal, oblivious to the demon's plight, Pressed on with the deal, heedless of the night. Azrael, with a half-hearted grin on his face, Agreed to the pact, in this unholy space.
A deal was struck, the terms etched in the air, Yet, Azrael's mind wandered, lost in a lair. The mortal reveled in newfound might, While Azrael longed for the comfort of the night.
As the demon returned to the abyssal domain, The hammock still called, a siren's refrain. The mortal, unaware of Azrael's internal strife, Basked in the spoils of the demonic life.
Power flowed through mortal veins like wine, Riches piled high, a fate so divine. While Azrael, in the shadows, found no peace, Haunted by the echoes of his demonic lease.
Days turned to nights, and nights to days, Azrael yearned for a break from the infernal maze. A demon summoned on his day off, a twist so sly, Yet, in the cosmic dance, one must comply.
As the mortal reveled in their newfound reign, Azrael's hammock awaited, a haven from the bane. For even demons, with powers untold, Long for respite, a sanctuary to behold.
In the abyss where shadows intertwine, Azrael dreamed of a realm, serene and divine. A hammock swaying in the quiet breeze, Where demons could rest, beneath the ancient trees.