I raced through the dark woods, the smell of decaying bark and decomposing plants filling my senses. All of a sudden a large wave of nausea swept over me. I bent over and retched as I clutched my heaving stomach. I couldn’t get the image of the mangled remains out of my head. He was just an old man, I thought to myself. There’s no way I really just saw that. It was impossible. Things like that only happen in movies and fictional literature. Demons and ghosts are just figments of imagination that don’t really exist. Trying to relax myself I just couldn’t deny what I had seen. If my eyes didn’t deceive me there was only one more option. That man was not human. And if he wasn’t, who knew what else awaited me.
Just an hour beforehand…
I walked towards my great-uncle’s house without enthusiasm. The way my mother put it was that it was my “duty” to visit him once a week, and to make sure that he was comfortable. I waltzed up to the porch and banged the old fashioned iron knocker. I waited, and waited, and waited but, strangely, he didn’t come to the door. I hesitantly opened the sturdy oaken door and prepared myself for the musty smell of countless old books. It didn’t come. Instead I gasped in horror at the sight of a thin wiry old man squatting down in front of what I assumed was previously my Great-Uncle Ben. His crimson blood poured off him in waves, staining the innocently pure white carpet a dark shade of purple with highlights of contagious red. Whoever, or whatever, was crawling over his prone body was covered in his life water, as Ben had always called blood. It's flesh sagged on it, as if it was being forced to hold on past it's date to fall off. Whatever the creature was, it wasn't natural. Standing petrified in a rigid standing position, I screamed silently in my mind. I kept trying to convince myself none of it was real, and that if I just closed my eyes and stayed quiet, everything would transform back to normal and I would wake up right where I belonged. I silently sent a prayer to every God whose name I had ever heard spoken to keep me safe and wake me from this insanity, but when I reopened my eyes, there it was. It narrowed it's slits of eyes and grinned manically. I mechanically stepped backwards, towards the safety of the doorway which remained open. The creature lurched forward as it wielded a glinting knife that appeared to be able to do some serious damage. It laughed sadistically at my dismay when a breeze slammed the door shut with a bang. With a scream it launched itself at me. Suddenly, a burning bright light shone as the door caved inward. Splinters flew everywhere, narrowly missing me, but the majority embedded themselves in the creature, wiping the smug smile off his face (If you can call that monstrosity he had a face!). A glowing, iridescent spear flew through the gaping doorway and gouged a bulky pit in the middle of its abdomen. With a small pop it exploded into dust that was quickly scattered into oblivion. A tall man quickly stepped into the house, brandishing a long bow that had the same ghostly shining quality that the, now incinerated, spear had shown. Judging by the ease with which he flourished the massive weapon, he had spent his life around tools and was well accustomed to hard work. His pale, almost transparent, hair had a lustrous eminence to it that closely resembled both bow and spear. He dressed in a simple and old fashioned white tunic and trousers.
He smiled, showing his teeth to be just as bright as the rest of him and said, rather peculiarly, "First Daemon, huh? You'll get used to it after a while. That is, I'm assuming you'd rather come and train with my people than die a slow and tortuous death?"
