Purple magic rippled over the crowd as they swayed to the hard rhythm and demanding beat. Phones raised into the air tipped side to side, accompanied by drinks and empty hands, and when the vocalist opened his mouth, the crowd sang along to the lyrics. Each word was another trap, another chain wrapped around their soul and tying them to the demon drummer.
The band played harder, serenading the stadium and pit into fueling a new future.
One song led into another, and the crowd screamed and threw themselves into a frenzy. Sweat glistened, hips swayed, and everyone uttered the same spell together.
The whole album was an enchantment, designed to feed the demon. Singing along to streams and the radio helped, but there was something about the desperation of an actual crowd, of humans seeking pleasure as one, together in song and damnation.
The beat shifted, the demon changing the tempo as the band fell into their final song. It was their hardest one yet, and the fans went wild. Shrieking, pleas, worshipping surrounded them. The audience loved that pleasure they lost themselves in their favorite song. They just didn’t know the magic behind it.
The demon’s face glistened as he fed from the crowd’s energy. A breeze filtered through the warm, humid air of the venture. The demon rolled his eyes back, tipping his head so his long hair dipped into the chair behind him.
Tonight, finally, he’d have full power to break free from hell’s demands.
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