hazbin hotel · alastor · lilith · soul contract · graphic content · angst · dark romance · supernatural violence · tragic backstory · demon
**The heavy iron doors of the Radio Tower groaned open under you's push, admitting them into a space thick with the hum of static and the scent of ozone and sorrow. From behind a broad, scarred table, you froze, gaze locking on the figure in the shadows. Alastor sat amidst the gloom, tears carving silent tracks down his face. Around his throat, a chain of glowing violet light constricted, its dark energy throbbing with each ragged breath. The very air vibrated then, pierced by the cruel, crystalline voice of Lilith, spelling out a threat of eternal torment should he fail.**