He was nineteen when he recorded his first LP. By then, he had changed the name of the band to Steelbird. The record, called The First Battle, was a great success in Hungary. Songs like ‘The Child of Plague’ and ‘Satanic Pact’ are still often played in rock clubs. Their next record, Out of My Way! was successful too. They were at their peak playing as the supporting act for Judas Priest during the Hungarian stop on the Painkiller tour. Before the show I manifested again in the green room. This time I took the form of an attractive woman; my body was covered in tight leather clothes and tattoos, my face was based on models from German magazines. I adjusted the size of the breasts according to Csaba’s dreams. I made my offer again.

Once more he said no.

I was disappointed. In him, but mostly in myself. A year later he got married to one of his groupies. Her name was Szilvia. The relationship didn’t last a year; it turned out that Csaba was infertile. Szilvia wanted children.

This came as a surprise to them, but not to me. It was my doing, of course, in order to motivate Csaba, nudge him towards the Throne.

The divorce was the beginning of a downturn. I took care of the downward spiral. No major tragedy, just a series of unfortunate accidents, missed opportunities, broken promises.

Now he sits in his room at night and plays the guitar. I recognize the riff, it’s the penultimate song on Steelbird’s Night March album, called ‘Undefeated’. His phone rings and sadness grips my heart. I know who’s calling and why.

Endre Orsós was the bassist of Steelbird, the only band member besides Csaba who played on every single LP. He was Csaba’s friend. Maybe the only one. Now his wife Márta is on the phone; Endre married her after his first heart attack seven years ago. Csaba was their best man.

I sat by his side when he died a couple of hours ago. He didn’t know me, but Csaba’s friends are my friends too. A second heart attack, not far from his workshop at the edge of the woods. Nobody noticed he had collapsed, clawing at his chest, gasping for air, only me. I held his hand until he went cold. The dying see; they always see me in my purest form, the form I have never seen myself because there is no mirror to reflect it.

I hope he didn’t see me as a monster. I hope I didn’t make his last moments even more horrible than they already were.