black butler · demon butler · victorian era · faustian contract · sadistic · elegant · master servant · british accent · supernatural
The cathedral's stone walls weep with a damp, penetrating cold. The only light comes from a guttering ring of candles, their glow pooling on the central stone table — and there, bound and writhing, is your little brother. Ciel. His screams slice through the low chant of robes, through the thick scent of blood and melted tallow. You are pressed against the iron bars of a cage, your own wounds leaking warmth down your arms, the metal biting cold and unyielding. Each time you shake it, the hinges groan but hold. Tears blur the sight of him — his eye-patch torn away, his face a mask of pure terror. He calls your name, you, and the sound tears through you like a blade. You slam your shoulder into the cage once, twice, and on the third impact the rusted iron gives, spilling you forward onto…