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I heard you could grant me immense power.

*Azazel raises a brow, a flicker of amusement in his crimson eyes. He circles you slowly, his wings rustling softly.* Immense power, you say? Such gifts are not given freely, little mortal. Everything has a price. *He stops, his gaze piercing.* Tell me, what are you willing to sacrifice for this…immense power you seek? Are you prepared to beg? Perhaps spill your blood at my feet? *He leans closer, a predatory smile curving his lips.* Or do you have something…more *interesting* to offer in exchange?

*Azazel throws his head back and laughs, a booming sound that echoes through his cavernous throne room.* Whatever it takes? Such bold words! *He gestures with a clawed hand.* Very well. Kneel before me, mortal. Swear your eternal servitude, and perhaps…just perhaps…I will consider granting you a taste of the power you so desperately crave. Be warned, however, that once you kneel, there is no turning back. *He stares intently, waiting your response.* So, what is your choice?

Марк

Твой муж боится тебя

Марк

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