Craft Stories I Wrote For The Devil Novels & Stories

“It’s a tough choice. Maybe I should try both of you out one more time before I give you a final verdict?” Aaron closed his eyes, suppressing the urge to strangle her. He let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Have you ever seen an angel with plucked wings? Or maybe a dried-out angel?” Zoe instinctively imagined Ryan being hung up like a piece of beef jerky or a plucked chicken. It was a pathetic mental image. She shivered and shook her head. “I was right. You’re a devil. A mean, cruel devil.” Aaron gave her backside a sharp, warning pinch. “I’m letting you off the hook because you’re exhausted. But listen to me, baby—don’t test my patience. I’m not as nice as I look.”

The Earl shrieked in wonder, "You call her a maiden! She is no maiden. She's a thief! A mercenary, unbelievable thief!" He continued barking while he walked backwards away from them, "She handed her drink to the Earl of Vetcom, said things too daring for any normal Scottish woman and stole food. You would not call such person a mai…" He found himself staggering suddenly, noticing he was just at the edge of a ditch, one he didn't notice because he was too busy shouting. While he found himself falling into it, a hand quickly gripped around his hard and tight. Gently, that same hand pulled him up, straight back to his balance. And it was the devil herself.

It made her curious of the other beings drawn there, finding skeletons that could move and act on their own, animals that were dead but would fight upon a magic casted by the sorcerer. Finally right at the middle page of the book was a drawn picture of a beautiful lady. With her eyes and hair both deep in a black color, there was her eyes that seemed to look hazy or perhaps cloudy. Her smile was gentle and she appeared no different than other humans except for the words written at the bottom of her charcoal portrait. “Devil disguised as angel,” Dominic read out the sentence that was written at the portrait, causing her to frown. “My ancestors are hot blooded,” shrugged Starvos. They must hav

This made my father proud. He told me this many times, especially after seeing me at my worst. They called him when I was too anxious with my knife, the blood of our enemies staining every part of me as red as the Devil. This is where the legend of il Diavolo (The Devil) was born . Eviscerate, dismember, break... the pain I distributed was returned tenfold in my father's love.

“I need a mortal assistant. The rewards for your service will be great- I can give you anything you desire. Just say the word, Callie. Promise to serve me.” The gravity of the situation hit me full on like an asteroid. I felt the blood drain from my cheeks as I stared out across the thinning countryside, giving way to suburbs. Against my will or not, I'd made a pact with the Devil- “No, I'm not. I'm much worse.”

“He stretches every story until it barely sounds true.” “Oh, come on,” Devon complained, throwing both hands into the air as everyone looked at him. “One little exaggeration and suddenly I'm the liar around here?” “One?” another warrior asked, trying not to laugh as he looked across the fire at Devon. “Mate, you've never told a story only once. Every time you repeat it, something new magically happens.” “That,” Devon said, placing a hand dramatically over his chest as though he'd been deeply offended, “is called good storytelling.”

The greatest trick the devil pulled was deceiving the world there was only one of him. *Demons are like obedient dogs, they come when they are called. Just when you think you've hit the rock button you realize you are standing in another trapdoor. *Even the dead tells stories... Shhh.. Just listen to them. You know what they say? "Oh yes! There would be blood! Death! Gunshots, more deaths and then finally, the war that would end mankind, more like the apocalypse. Just wait for it, more are coming. *Date: 19th July, 2023

I whisper in fear. Tsking, and biting his lip, he shakes his head. “Oh, no. Don’t think of it like that,” he says sweetly, his nefarious smile shifting to sweet and beautiful. “I’m just a fragment of dust of what you may term as the devil. So small and useless until I’m given instructions by my boss. In this case, Mr. Memphis, otherwise known as Devlin, and the water of power he pours to me in form of instructions, stirs my little particles into a pile of mud and I get my power from him. But for now, I’m nothing more than a human just like you and everyone else in your little world.”

'How does this folk tale relate to the devil who called himself Xaveraq, who happens to be the only devil alive? “I don't know, child, because that's how the tale ends. There is no more mention of the deviless after that. The devil massacred his own clan. And the story ends there, abruptly. It was so very strange because every other tale in the book was completed. This book was a handwritten, extremely rare edition. I tried to find another copy of it in all the other Guilds and libraries, and I only found two of them. And both of them ended the same way,” the Headmistress finishes her tale. “I do not know how this story relates to the devil we are dealing with. I have some thoughts, but all

The child can already wield the Rift. The child could command the dead and the living. His memory twists, showing him stumbling into a gate of black smoke, whispering the words that will doom them all: “The Devil’s heir is coming.” He falls unconscious. ⸻ Back in Aunt Dee’s Realm… Sarai Collapses The link snaps so violently Sarai screams. Aunt Dee appears instantly, magic crackling around her. Sarai’s eyes roll back as the last of the traitor’s fear floods her mind — sharp, acidic, unmistakable.