The Final Hand

On Halloween night, Abaddon entered The Hades Casino, his heart darkened by malevolent intent. He had come to claim souls, and he knew he would find them here.

As he played through the tournament, the other players fell like dominoes. Abaddon laughed to himself, relishing in the fear he could sense in the room.

Then, in the final round, Abaddon faced his opponent: a mortal named Damien. The others had been easy prey for Abaddon, but this one was different. There was a glimmer of defiance in his eyes.

The game began, and the stakes grew higher than any Abaddon had ever seen. Damien was betting more than just money; he was betting his soul. As the final cards were dealt, Abaddon's heart raced with anticipation. He had a winning hand, but he couldn't be sure.

Damien revealed his cards, and Abaddon's worst fears were confirmed. He had been beaten by a better hand. The room went silent as Abaddon stared in disbelief.

But then, as the silence stretched on, Damien spoke. "What do you think you've won?" he asked.

Abaddon narrowed his eyes, suddenly wary. "Your soul," he said, his voice low.

"Are you sure about that?" Damien said, his eyes glittering with an eerie light.

Abaddon felt a chill run down his spine. He looked at Damien's cards again, and then back at his own. There was something strange happening, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Before he could react, Damien stood up from the table and disappeared into the shadows. Abaddon was left alone in the silent casino, his fate uncertain. Had he really won the mortal's soul, or had he been tricked by some otherworldly power?

As he stumbled out of The Hades Casino into the cold night air, Abaddon knew one thing for sure: he would never forget the terror of that fateful night, and he would always be looking over his shoulder, wondering if he had truly won or lost.