Prologue: Marax.
As Marax drew in another painful breath he launched into another sprint, weaving through the trees at tremendous speed. He knew his pursuers could be close behind, he could feel them searching with their minds for him but he evaded them with ease on that front.
Blood pooled from a wound on his stomach his black blood darkening he black cloak he wore even further. He didn't stop to rest or to ease the pain that raked his body like claws, he could feel deaths grip like the first frost of winter creeping up on his and chilling him to his bones.
Death didnt frighten Marax, not much did after the things h had done but he dint welcome its embrace, life was too sweet to give up after so short a time.
Marax heard only silence as he ran through the silver moon lit night, the world around him suspended in the otherworldly glow. Dust floated undisturbed in the beams of light descending slowly to the ground as if time matter not.
The only thing disturbing the tranquil forest was Marax charging through leaving droplets of blood behind staining the silver forest in blood.
The sheer quietness of the forest heightened his senses, no owls hooted nor deer running free, they sensed danger and had fled. Because for all the quietness of the forest Marax knew dozens of demons closed in on him, shrouding themselves with magic or simply staying too far for Marax to hear, but he knew they where there waiting to plunge their weapons into his leathery green skin.
Yellow lights broke the silver of the night as Marax closed in on a small village, it's rural buildings painted a nice serene picture of a perfect village. Its white picket fences surrounded each houses garden perfectly, it sickened Marax but he didn't slow his pace.
At the edge of the quaint village Marax stopped dead, regard for his safety was forgotten as a small insignificant feeling burst through into his dragon-like chest.
Nostalgic wasn't something Marax had been accused of before but a faint memory flooded his mind, broken and warped but there none the less.
Every instinct in Marax raged within him to run to withstand the strange temptation to seek out a small house from a fragmented memory of his past life.
He knew he had to die a peaceful death or his power would be abused by the will of those that hunted him.
Power, it was the ultimate prize for depraved and maddened demons, and Marax had a well of power making him a prized meal for the insane demons.
Back tracking through the village Marax scoured the buildings for the one he sought, minutes ticked by and the quiet air rippled with a demonic aura as numerous demons began to close in on the small village.
Marax matched his broken memory to a house, identical to the others and yet to Marax it stuck out amongst them.
He didn't pause to think about his actions, stepping over the white fence Marax cast his eyes over the building trying to see an way in, it didn't take him long, his eyes saw the world in distinct vibrancy even in the night.
Out of desperation Marax tried the front door, he knew it would be locked but in his condition he had no real desire to climb to the second story where they had left a small window ajar.
Taking deep breaths Marax sunk his talon into the wall of the house, pulling his weight up strained his stomach and pain from his would surged through him but he kept moving.
Wounded as he was Marax made no sound as he dropped to the floor of the house, Marax sucked in a small amount of magic from his Amore, and twisted it to his purpose, mist pumped out of his hands and eyes and roamed the house reported back to Marax through it's wispy threads.
Three people occupied the house, two in the furthest room from him and one two rooms down. Twisting the power within his grasp once more Marax placed the two furthest away into a deep sleep as they breathed in the mist.
A howl echoed from afar carried by the wind it's screeching voice was demonic in itself but the gurgle of death that followed sent shivers through him, it wasn't unheard of for demons to turn on each other even during a hunt they thirsted for power it's what drove them.
Marax pushed the door open and peered inside, a boy laid asleep in his bed, clothes flung on the floor with games and magazines interlaced amongst them. Life was a strange place it was twisted and cruel yet kind and beautiful.
Marax in his soul was still human though the days he walked the world as one had lessened and the days he wore the green dragon-like mask of his demonic power had increased until they where endless.
The loss of his human life's memories had been a hard burden to bear but life had allowed little time to ponder or mope, and the distractions of his demonic life had not been all death and destruction.
Tears rolled down his face as his broken memories pieced themselves together in the dark room, and faces of those he fought for and loved floated to the surface.
