The Witches Cauldron

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| I Have Loved You in Darkness |

I have loved you in dark and in silence—

in the hidden rooms of my soul

where no light wanders,

where the world forgets our names.

There, I remember you:

your voice, a gathering storm;

your hands, a promise half-whispered;

your eyes, the only fire

I have ever chosen

to burn within.

You are the chaos I claim,

the ruin I walk into willingly.

If the world should end,

let it falter on your breath.

If I am reduced to ashes,

let them fall at your feet

like an offering.

I have no need for heaven.

I want only the gravity of you—

the hell I fall toward,

again and again,

without regret,

without fear,

without end.

MC was elbow-deep in their bag, half-lounging on the couch, fishing around for the elusive chapstick that always vanished when they needed it most. Mammon sprawled upside-down in an armchair nearby, flipping a stack of grimy RAD coupons between his fingers like he was counting money he didn’t actually have.

Something slid from their wallet and fluttered to the floor.

Mammon’s eyes locked on it like a crow spotting something shiny.

“Hey, what’s this?” he said, leaning over to snatch the little plastic card. “Looks like some kinda ID. Is this your... human summoner license?”

MC didn’t even look up. “That’s my driver’s license.”

Mammon blinked. “Driver’s what-now?”

“License,” they repeated, still digging. “It's for identification, and it shows that I can legally drive.”

Mammon sat up like someone just hit him with a stun spell. “...Wait. Hold on. Humans can DRIVE?!”

There was a long pause.

A dangerous pause.

MC slowly stopped moving. Their head turned toward him — slowly, methodically, like a horror movie puppet about to snap. Their eyes were wide with unfiltered disbelief.

“Mammon,” they said flatly, “since the first car was made in 1885. What the hell made you think humans couldn’t drive?”

Mammon, entirely serious, shrugged. “I’unno. I heard if humans move too fast, their organs like… rip right outta their bodies or somethin’. Like—splat—intestines all over the windshield.”

MC stared. Hard. Processing. Searching the universe for an exit.

“What the fuck,” they said slowly, “who the hell told you that?!”

“I read it somewhere!” Mammon insisted, now fully defensive. “It was in a book! Or maybe some demon at a tavern— I dunno, it sounded legit! I mean, humans are delicate, okay?! You’ve got like, soft squishy insides and no natural armor and your legs snap if you fall off a ladder—”

“MAMMON.” MC slapped their bag shut. “Do you realize humans have been riding HORSES for over 5,000 years?”

Mammon blinked. “So?”

“So?! HORSES ARE LIVING MUSCLE MISSILES. Some of them can run up to 55 miles per hour! That’s faster than most cars go in a city!”

He looked genuinely disturbed. “Wait. Then how are you not dead?!”

MC gestured at themself. “Do I look dead?! Do I look like my liver’s hanging out of my mouth right now?!”

Mammon tilted his head. “Well, maybe not right now—”

“Mammon.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! Geez! Look, it’s just—when I was last in the human realm, it was like, 200 years ago. People were still ridin’ around in carriages and screamin’ about soap. Technology’s freaky, alright?! One minute you’re usin’ chamber pots and the next you’re rippin’ through the freeway at 80 miles an hour with your intestines somehow still inside your body!”

MC took a deep breath. “That explains it. You really need better sources of information.”

Mammon muttered, “Yeah, well, Google doesn’t work in the Devildom, MC.”

“Yes, humans can drive,” MC said slowly. “No, it won’t turn us into a meat smoothie. I’ve been driving for years. Over a decade. I’ve parallel parked, hit potholes, drove through thunderstorms—and I’m still fully intact.”

Mammon narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “You sure?”