• His heartbeat played in unison with the hooves of his steed. The rain pounded down on the forest and it’s muddied path. He didn’t know why he was riding, or how he had gotten to this rain swept forest. Attempting to justify his situation through memory was like trying to remember the name of a person he had have never met. This was an act of blind faith that he could not deter himself from. The leaves fluttered against him as almost a warning to go no further, to turn back. When the forest had finally sensed his resolve the sky lit up with lighting, a single bolt cracked. He was the helpless man.
    A ghostly finger of discomfort touched him at the core. He adjusted his cloak nervously looking back to see if anything followed. Nothing, it was dark but his mind cleared him of suspicion. To his awe and fear his horse wavered off balance and fell forward into the mud while the helpless man tumbled down with it. Looking back upon his steed it began to decay rapidly and grotesquely. Worms and maggots erupted from its flesh while the horse fought and cried to fight back against its plague. The horse was overcome and began to rot with death. The helpless man scrambled to his feet and began running as fast as his legs would take him in the direction he had been drawn all along, he knew there was no turning back.
    With a heavy step his boot sunk deep into the mud bringing him to his hands and knees, mud covered his body. A tight grip wrapped around his forearm and raised the helpless man to his feet. The grip revealed itself to be an arm, which revealed itself to be a figure. The figure removed its hood, revealing itself. The creature was the stuff of nightmares he had shining ebony colored skin, his face darkly handsome, he looked at him through milky white eyes that made him feel inferior, although it rained he showed a black shining muscular chest unclothed. The man, of whom he doubted was a man at all, smiled at him with intentions unclear. The helpless man tried to speak, as his brow began to run with cold rain. “Who are you?” The entity laughed with a voice of pure domination as he threw him down to the mud once again and spoke. “I am one you will learn to fear little mortal, I know he comes to you in your days. I know you will betray my kind for those unfit to be recognized.” He lay in the mud confused by the creature’s words and replied wearily. “I have never betrayed a soul… I am not a traitor.” The creature sneered with a set of sharp yellow teeth. It sent a chill down his spine when the creature spoke again. “You have not betrayed yet mortal man, but soon you will be given the choice… I know your future, I know the choice you will make, and I know what you will become… I will destroy you.”
    The creature’s gaze fell past him for a moment, another entity approached. He quickly shifted his head back to look upon a large man resembling a powerful devil-king he had seen in books of darkness. The devil walked with confidence he bore small red horns that curled around his head, he stood tall about twice the size of any normal man, and he dressed in long finery that was draped in red and black designs far beyond the skill of the best tailors. He walked past the helpless man still lying in the mud as he grabbed the creature by the throat lifting him to his gaze and spoke. “You interfere in my business little demon… This man is none of your concern, he will not be swayed by your threats!” His voice boomed in unison with the lightning as the creature pulled away from his grasp and drew a sword of warped and spiked metal dripping with a black pulpy liquid that smelled of lust from the rift between space. He choked out the words, “You have no power over me Asmodeus… I am not one of your archdukes that can be controlled by your charisma and forked tongue…” The demon swayed forward into a charge at the devil-king Asmodeus. The helpless man could only look on in horror as such power locked horns. The image was too much for his mortal mind, which was slowly drifting back into consciousness.

    The helpless man awoke in the dead of night, the moon shined over him like a second blanket. He rubbed his deep blue eyes, remembering the dream he had vaguely. The more he tried to make sense of it all the more his thoughts faded away, he suddenly cast it aside as only a dream. His pale skin and unkempt black hair both shining in the moonlight as he stared out the window from his bed. He lay back down to sleep in the room that he had rented out and tried to sleep again. Just as he closed his eyes he felt a burning sensation in his chest that made him cringe. He rose again and lifted his shirt to see the cause of his discomfort. He took a breath of fear as his eyes fell upon a red glowing pentagram sizzling like hot oil on his chest. He clasped it hoping to numb the pain but it seared through his efforts. He rolled out of bed lying face up breathing heavily feeling nothing but the fear of death. He had never been a bad person his eyes clenched from the pain as he thought back to the past.

    A mother had raised him with no male counterpart. They had never discussed his father before. If he ever tried to bring it up in conversation she would ignore him. The helpless man lived the middle class life of a merchant. His mother and him traveled a lot it occurred to him, as he grew older that she had been running from something. Soon after his twentieth birthday his mother died while he was away in another town. A messenger had told him on horseback a day earlier than the current day. He was traveling to see her off and mark her grave, the messenger did not tell him the cause of his mother’s death, which at this point was unsettling. He analyzed his dream more hoping to discern something from it. Suddenly he remembered a time when he was called anonymously as a child to participate in a meeting at a town his mother was working in. He was around sixteen at the time, and had been drawn into studying law and the occurrence of devils in the world, a strange combination for a boy. The group of high-class nobles wished his permission to denote a traitor among the town. He was confused as to why they were asking him, but he continued to have a heated conversation about the man’s crimes and what he was actually guilty of. The older men saw him as a higher being at that time, in an awkward way so did he. For that day he felt powerful, it made him feel good and he wanted more. Soon they made the decision to see the traitor dead and the nobles saw the helpless boy home. After that day he became a bit more concentrated on his own social stature, which soon lead to him going his own way leaving his mother behind. It was beginning to make sense but he didn’t like how it was all fitting together. He knew one thing, he had to see his mother, and he had to find out how she died. Before he could make another thought he felt the pain of the burn fading as he fell into a deep sleep.

    Feeling the searing fade he relaxed to the sound of pattering rain against the windowsill, a gray dreary sky showing through. He arose from the floor and dawned his long black cloak and walked out of his room into the long dark hall of the inn. The floorboards creaked beneath his boot. It was silent other then the sounds of the rain, suddenly a door opened down the hall. A beautiful woman stepped out. Her hair was long blond and strait as the fields of wheat that run along the countryside. He was compelled by her beauty for the second and refused to move his body. She looked back at him and he took a sharp step back, there was something unnatural about her beauty. She was no normal being. She smiled with comfort and walked towards him. He began to shake as he reached for a knife he concealed in his side pocket. She reached up and put a hand to his cold face and spoke softly into his ear. “You are not alone, do not fear the darkness of your soul…” She put the other hand to his chest as he felt the burning sensation again briefly. He tensed and took another step back speaking steadily. “Who are you…? How do you know me?” He slowly drew the dagger that had been given to him by one of the nobles all those years ago. It was inscribed with a language foreign to him and socketed with a beautiful shining ruby that seemed to glow only when he grasped the hilt. The woman glanced at the dagger and smiled more deviously. She laid her soft hand on it and lowered it back to its sheath. She spoke again, “You have nothing to fear from me. I am only here to… Guide you.” She stroked the man’s face after she spoke the words. It seemed of evil intentions. But he trusted her for some reason, he felt compelled to trust her with his life. He looked around franticly hoping for something to say in response. “I… I don’t know what’s going on here, but I suppose a travel companion couldn’t hurt, my name is…” She swiftly interrupted him but still calm, “I know your name Lucius.” His eyes widen underneath the veil of his hood, she knew him and he didn’t know how, it seemed like lately everyone knew who he was more then himself. He wearily began to try to ask her for her name, but decided against it for the fact that he was far to disturbed. The woman looked out the window as a bolt of lightning cracked and the inn shook with a rumbling thunder. She spoke more avidly now, “We should go… The storm is picking up and if we don’t hurry we will be traveling through the night, I have horses outside.” He looked out the window one more time following her outside and mounting the horse, he said wearily. “Have you had the feeling that something seems familiar but you can’t place what it is…?” She looked back her hair flung specs of rain all over as she began to tie it up. “I think… Why?” He pondered for a second as he looked off to the distant forest they were about to travel through, “No reason…” They struck their horses as the hooves began to beat against the fresh mud and away from the small inn. He was no longer the helpless man