The morning brings with it a gentle warmth, and I plan to use it to my advantage. I ready myself for an outdoor painting session. I choose my clothes- a vibrant, flowing skirt paired with a comfortable, white blouse. Both of which are splashed with hints of paint.

After a small breakfast of toast and tea, I slip on a pair of brown leather sandals and grab my canvas satchel, which is filled with supplies. After slinging it across my body and grabbing my easel, I step out of my house, breathing in the fresh air. The sun shines brightly, and there is not a cloud in the sky.

As I walk through the cobblestone streets of our town, I cannot help but think about last night. My wish to the moon and stars. I feel so silly, wishing on stars, but part of me cannot help but hope. Hope that they bring me my soulmate.

I can see the town center in the distance, and the towering fountain comes into view. It is made of marble, and in the middle of it stands a statue of the town's founder, surrounded by a ring of water.

People bustle by, each absorbed in their own lives. I watch them, wondering if any of them feel as disconnected as I do. Do they also search the night sky for answers? Do they, too, whisper wishes to the moon and the stars?

Sometimes, on days like today, I sit at one of the benches that surround the fountain. But that is not my destination. Not today.

Instead, I pass by, making my way to the edge of town, where the trees and brush grow thicker. There is a small, overgrown path that leads into the forest. It is not traveled by many, but it is one of my favorite places to paint.

Leaving the familiar path of town behind, I step onto the soft grassy floor of the Enchanted Forest. The beauty here is raw, untouched. The trees stand tall, their leaves whispering in a language only they understand.

The path seems to subtly shift under my feet, as if guiding me. Occasionally, a flower glows softly as I pass, a natural luminescence that is both enchanting and mysterious. Magic is strong in this forest.

The further I walk, the more the forest seems to hum with a subtle, unseen energy. The air shifts, becoming cooler and tinged with the scent of moss and ancient earth. The forest floor feels spongy underfoot, the sounds of the town fading until there is nothing but the rustle of leaves and the occasional distant bird call.

I have always found peace in this solitude, away from the buzz of town life. I slip off my sandals, letting my toes sink into the mossy earth.

People avoid these woods, scared off by tales of devils lurking in the shadows. I have never seen one, never believed in those stories. To me, they are just myths, tales to scare children.

If there are any devils, they are not in these woods. I have been coming here for years, and never have I seen a glimpse of the beasts.

It is said that they are powerful and dangerous creatures. That they possess a dark, seductive beauty that is hard to resist. Some believe that they were banished here long ago, forced to live in exile from their realm. Others say that they fled, choosing solitude over the dangers of the outside world.

Either way, the devil's have become legends, tales to scare children and adults alike. But no one knows for sure if they actually exist.

I am not afraid of them, or of the darkness they are rumored to be associated with. To me, these woods are a place of safety, a place where I can lose myself in my painting and forget about my troubles.

I walk deeper into the forest, drawn to the cliff's edge. it is my favorite place for painting, where the sea stretches to the horizon, endless. Here, I feel close to something vast, something beyond my small world.

What lies beyond that sea? Could my soulmate be out there, in a distant land I have never seen? The thought is a bittersweet pang in my heart.

Reaching the cliff, I set up my easel. The sea below is a dance of waves and foam. I start to paint, trying to capture its vastness, its mystery. The wind blows gently, bringing the scent of salt and sea.

I paint for hours, until my back aches and the sun is high in the sky. I step back, admiring my work. It is a good painting, but it does not quite capture the feeling I am looking for. Something is missing. Perhaps I should add more shadows.

I put my brushes and paints away, then sit down on the grass, looking out at the sea. I feel like I could stay here forever. So peaceful, so quite.

Too quiet.

I notice the playful whispers of the leaves have turned into hushed tones, as if the forest itself is holding its breath. A sudden chill runs down my spine, the shadows seem to stretch and twist, creating unsettling shapes. My heart beats faster, every small sound amplified in the silence.

I have never felt this type of energy in the Enchanted Forest before. It is an unsettling feeling that brushes against my skin.

A sudden rustle from a bush nearby catches my attention, and I still. A sudden snap of a branch sends a jolt of fear through me. I jump, startled. My eyes dart around, searching the forest. Shadows play tricks on my vision. I cannot see anything, but a weird feeling grips me. it is deep inside, making me both nauseous and breathless all at once.

I watch the trees, heart pounding. Then, a tiny bloom deer leaps out. Its fur is a pale shade of green, its antlers a shade darker. Thin green vines wrap around the antlers adorned with the most beautiful pink flowers blooming.

Relief washes over me as I realize it is just an innocent creature, and I let out a nervous laugh at my own overreaction.

My relief is shortlived when the sky opens up, raindrops falling gently at first, then transforming into a torrential downpour. I hastily gather my painting and supplies, the rain quickly drenching me. I need to find shelter.

My clothes cling to my body, and the rain continues to fall. The path is muddy, and my feet slip and slide as I make my way deeper into the forest, the trees providing little shelter from the rain.

The strap of my satchel catches on a branch, ripping off. It falls to the ground, its contents spilling out. Cursing under my breath, I bend down to collect everything. As I am shoving the last of my belongings into the bag, a loud crack sounds, making me jump.

I whip around, searching for the source of the sound. Something dark moves among the trees, sending another chill down my spine.

I have to keep moving. Much to my dismay, I abandon my satchel and my supplies and start running in a random direction. I spot what looks like a cave in the distance. Maybe it is big enough for me to take shelter there.

As I approach the entrance, the darkness inside the cave seems to move and shift. I hesitate, but the rain is cold, and my clothes are soaked. I cannot afford to wait. Taking a deep breath, I step inside.

The air is cool and damp, and the shadows dance on the walls. As my eyes adjust, I can make out the jagged edges of the rocks. The floor is covered in a soft layer of moss, and there is a musty, earthy smell.

The rain outside continues to fall, and I settle down in a corner, pulling my knees to my chest. I try not to think about the fact that I am stuck here, or how cold and hungry I am. Instead, I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing.

The sun is beginning to set, and the cave is growing colder. My wet clothes do nothing to ward off the chill. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to conserve heat.

The shadows begin to lengthen and the cave grows darker. Outside, the light begins to fade as the sun sinks below the horizon. It will soon be dark, and I will be alone in this cold, damp cave with nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company.

I could chance the rain. I could try to attempt to navigate my way back to town, or I could stay here and wait out the night and the rain.

Neither option sounds very appealing, but the idea of getting lost in the dark, wet woods is a far worse fate than spending a cold, damp night in a cave.

I will stay.

I try to calm my mind, but I cannot stop thinking about how the cave seems to have a strange, eerie quality. I shiver from both the cold and the strange sensation that creeps up my spine.

Should I try to start a fire?

I consider it, but there is nothing dry to burn. It will have to wait until the morning, when hopefully the weather will be more favorable.

Another strong shiver jolts through my body and then the strangest thing happens. I swear I see the shadows move.

No, I know I see the shadows move.

I watch as a shadow seems to separate from the others, growing darker and more distinct.

I stare at it, my eyes wide, as it takes on the shape of a man. It moves slowly towards me, and I back away, pressing myself against the wall of the cave.

The shadow grows more solid with each passing second, until I can make out a face. He is pale, almost ghostly. His dark hair is wild, framing his face.

The sight of him fills me with both fear and wonder. The nauseous and breathless feeling from earlier returns, deep in my stomach. It spreads throughout my body. My heart is racing, and I can feel my pulse quickening.

He steps closer, and I can see his eyes. A haunting shade of grey. He is beautiful, and he is terrifying. And then I see them. His horns. Black and sharp, protruding from his head.

He is a devil.

As the realization sinks in, I cannot help but think I am hallucinating. Or maybe I am dreaming. There is no way this could be real.

But it is.

My mind is reeling, and I cannot seem to catch my breath.

The devil reaches out, his hand grazing my cheek. His touch is cold, and I can feel the chill deep within my bones.

He speaks, his voice like a whisper on the wind. "You called for me?"