"Let me go!", I cried, paralyzed in fear as the pale man bent down to me. His skin was unnaturally white, showing every vein on his face. His turquoise eyes were piercingly sharp and cold as he glanced at me. Where his eyes looked it felt as if a knife was cutting my face. The man bore a blood-curdling grin. "How dare you yell at Mephistopheles, the devil himself?" What would you do if the God of Death, Mischief the Devil himself, had his eyes on you? Run? Hide? Or feign ignorance of your…
