The change was instant. The next morning, the city was no longer a mess of grey concrete; it was a mathematical symphony. He drafted the "Solstice Tower" in forty-eight hours. It was a marvel of glass that seemed to trap sunlight and hold it long after dusk. By the second year, Elias was a household name. By the fifth, he was a god of industry.
"I don't want your soul, Elias," the man said, his voice smooth as polished marble. "That’s a poet’s fiction. I want your work. I want the next ten years of your hands." devils_work
On the eve of the tenth year, the man returned. He found Elias sitting in the center of his greatest achievement, a marble palace that was freezing despite the summer heat. "Ten years," the man whispered. "You’ve done well." The change was instant
But the devil’s work is never about the building; it is about the builder. It was a marvel of glass that seemed
"Take it back," Elias begged. His hands were shaking, white and skeletal. "The vision is too much. I can’t see the people anymore. I only see the weight of the walls."