Blackstone Ch. 1-4

Chapter 1
         Seral lay awake in bed, holding her husband, cherishing these moments she knew would soon never return.  It was strange how significant everything had seemed today.  Never had the sound of the wind or the beauty of the neighboring forest captivated her to the point of tears, but today she had been overwhelmed.  Their quaint little home seemed a beautiful palace and in it she felt like a queen.  And her family, her love for them was beyond anything she could understand.  It was destiny that had her marry the man she was nestled against, but true love kept her here.  And her child…
             
                She placed her left hand over Fraske’s eyes and softly spoke several lines of a spell.  There was no observable change in his breathing, but Seral knew he would not be awakened unless she willed it otherwise, or, she reminded herself, her mind was forced to release the trance through outside force.  Removing the sheets she arose from bed.  Her unclothed body shown like a goddess in the moonlight and, as she made her way to the dresser, her movements revealed a women of much hidden strength. +++ A compartment was hidden in the bottom half of the last draw, and in it was a sword-master’s gear and blade.  Despite the near decade of neglect, she dressed herself quickly and skillfully in the tight fitting armor, fastened the gleaming metallic boots, and strapped the sword harness to her waist.

                  The final piece to the set was her blade.  Gnost was its name.  The handle was ivory wrapped in silk and the blade was a clear diamond.  No guard was visible, and none was needed.  As she lifted the weapon for the last time she suddenly transformed into another being.  Physically she was the same voluptuous beauty that men would die for, and her mind was still Seral, but a new presence had entered and overcome her.  For she was the daughter of the demi-god Knivlus, the Demi-Goddess of the Sword.  The powerful blood of a deity awoke at the feel of the grip.  Her eyes, which usually shown with an unbridled warmth, became suddenly intense and piercing.  She could hear, with her incredibly heightened senses, footsteps approaching from slightly over a mile away.  Roughly five hundred soldiers.  With the power to cleave through a mountain, she sheathed her sword and silently entered the room of her son.

                  With her concealed strength now roused, she moved through the darkened house as though it were high noon.  Their son lay covered in a woolen sheet, a serene look upon his sleeping face.  Had Seral not awoken the beast inside herself only a moment earlier looking upon her son, knowing what he would soon face, would have broke her.  The burden he must carry, the pain his life would witness.  More than once she had considered releasing him of his ill-fated destiny, yet whenever their eyes met she knew she could never commit the act.  She loved him with all her being and hated herself for bringing him into this world.  But she knew there was still hope. 

                    As Seral stood by his bedside, her thoughts drifted to the day she learned of his fate, a memory which stung her like a piercing polar breeze.  Whenever a child is born with the blood of a god inside his veins a secret birth ritual is enacted.  Various gods and demi-gods will gather with gifts in the Plains of Dramura, the passageway to the home of the original deities, Seval Heinham.  Each attendee will bestow upon the child a part of their power to better aid them in life, the ultimate gift.  Seral’s son was given tremendous strength, speed, sight, endurance and many other attributes.  From her own grandfather, Kniveil, the God of Arms, the boy was gifted powers of the sword beyond anything even she possessed.  A single swing of his blade would fall with the fury of an avalanche and the grace of a summer breeze.  Seral was overwhelmed with joy and pride as each god presented their ability and congratulations, and all seemed well till the final guest, one known only as Red, the Goddess of Foresight.  She was a frail looking woman, with eyes bearing a weariness no mortal could ever understand. 

                      “Let me look upon your child dear girl.”  Her eyes suddenly gleamed red and a look of undeniable fear ran through her entire body.  Her legs gave way and she fainted.  After coming to she told all, the terrible fate that was to fall upon her sons hands, the dangers and temptations that would follow him till his dieing day, and, most importantly, the details of their last night together.

                      Tonight, thought Seral, it will finally begin.  She gave her son a soft kiss on his brow and stepped outside her home; fully aware she would never touch her loved ones again.  And with an anger and hatred deeper and colder than any ocean, she unsheathed her sword and listened as the soldiers traversed up the hill her house was set upon.  In minutes her life would be over, her son taken away and her husband killed, but first she would make a mountain of corpses.

Chapter 2
         She waited till they were only two hundred feet away.  Her original guess of five hundred proved to be false.  From what she could see it was closer to five thousand, a testament to the quality of their training.  Masking your numbers is not something easily done.  From her viewpoint she could see her village burning.  The heat from the flames created a gust of warm wind that pulled her long black hair to stand almost horizontal.  The soldiers stopped before her, each drawing their sword in unison.  A smile appeared at the age of her mouth.

                “My, my, my.  Aren’t you a luscious one.”  The general made his way through the ranks to greet her.  “You know you don’t have to die here.  A woman of your… stature could easily find a rather luxurious lifestyle as a noble’s wife.  Or perhaps the wife of a general?”  He had a ruthless look about him.  His eyes wandered liberally across her body, taking ample time to observe her chest. 
Seral thought for a moment. “If I agree, and all this could be yours, will you let the people of this home live?  I’m just a traveler but they have cared for me and I would like to return the favor.” She had no idea if her feint would work, but it was certainly worth a try.  He paused to consider.

                “Why of course.  What is a miserable little shack like this worth compared to your hand in marriage.  You can trust me, come, I’ll lead you to my camp.” 

                  Seral took his hand and began to walk down the slope.  She felt relief poor into her body.  I will suffer, thought Seral, but my son will live a full life with Fraske.

                  “See that was easy.  Kill the inhabitants.  Take any children you find back to Geloo!” 

                    “What!!  We had a deal!”  For a moment she was disorientated, confused but only a moment.

                  He turned to her and smiled.  “My dear I am merely following orders.  You do want to be ri-“ 

                  Before he could finish his sentence Seral had severed him into four sections.  A tremor ran through her body.  Her malice and hate erupted in her a power that she never knew she had.  Every muscle in her body worked for just one purpose, to kill.  She observed her surroundings like a predator.

                  The arrow that was fired flew with a wide arch.  She could still save them.  With speed faster than any animal Seral ran towards her target, jumped, and bated it directly into the face of the archer who let it fly. 

                  “Attack the women, take her out!”  But she was already on them.  Her inhuman speed coupled with the clear crystal blade made the flurry of attacks invisible.  The only proof of her swings were the severed bodies mounting one atop another on the ground.  Seral felt the power in her exploding.  With every swing she became faster, with every kill more deadly.  Several times a soldier would try to attack from behind, but before they could even raise their blades above their heads she would have removed them, deeply satisfied by the slight resistance it produced. 

                Ten bodies, fifty bodies, two hundred bodies.  She had been fighting for nearly ten minutes straight with no slowdown in the number of troops.  For each body she felled, two more soldiers would take their place.  She could feel herself slowing down, knew she could not fight forever.  Tears began to mingle with the blood covering her face.  She wasn’t going to be able to save them.  She wasn’t strong enough.  +++Her blade swipes became more erratic, and occasionally she would not kill her targets on the first swing, though still killed them before they could even begin to counter. 

              Part of her mind kept her family asleep, until she was faced with a child.  He looked to be seven, but was obviously tall, regardless of his age.  The soldiers moved aside, giving the young boy some space.  Seral felt uncertain.  She had no desire to kill a child, but he obviously had no qualm with killing her.  One of the men handed a halberd of considerable size to the kid. 

              “I see you have been having fun here.  Can’t exactly say I blame you.  Always a blast to cleave through some useless footmen.”  The boy spoke with an eerie self-confidence, but she could tell he was not bluffing.  How could a child so young be so assured of himself.  As if to answer this very question the child performed a demonstration.  ++++

              “Iivalus, come forward!”  A giant of a man emerged from the crowd.  He brandished a huge war-axe and incredibly heavy looking armor.  So far Seral had managed to purposefully avoid direct confrontation with him.  “You look as though you doubt my strength.  Well I guess a demonstration is in order.  Iivalus, I order you to kill me.  Heh, if you can of course.”  The boy’s reputation was obviously well known, the giant eagerly got to his feet, let out a battle cry, and swung his axe at the kid.  Before his blade could reach him the boy had already swung.  In an instant the halberd had cut through both arms.  The force behind the giant’s foiled attack carried the axe with the still attached hands towards the crowd of spectators like a propeller, killing several of them with its speed before finally becoming embedded in the ground. 

                +++The boy seemed bored by the duel.  “I thought I told you to kill me, not make a fool of yourself.  Of course it’s too bad I’m here, Geloo might have healed your body where as I, I’m going to cut you in half.  Right between your eyes and straight on down to that oversized ass of yours.”  And with frightening speed and agility he did just that. 
                    “Yawn…  Oh sorry there miss, forgot you were here.  My mind tends to wander when I’m bored.  So I hope you see now that I might be just slightly out of your league.  I would ask you to join us but see, you’re a little too old.  I know, I know, ‘but what about all these other adults’.  See, thing is, we don’t need them, and as battles get more and more intense they will start to die off and we will take over.  Now we know you have a child in there, and if he is anything like you we would love to take him home, so how about we get this fight over with.”

                  “Who are you, why do you want my son?”  She was completely bewildered by all she had heard.  They wanted her son to become like this boy!  This monstrosity!  She wondered where his parents might be, if they fought to save him too, knowing that this would be his fate.

                  “Ah and there it is, that same look of pity I see from each person +I off+.  ‘What caused such a handsome boy to become a murderer?’  Well not much more to it than I like killing people.  My parents were cowards.  I’m not.  Simple enough really. 

                “But as to who I am and why we want your boy.  My name’s Gladius.  I am a member of Geloo’s Army.  We are a group that, for lack of a better word, recruits children to turn into undefeatable soldiers.  You see here a living example of that goal.  Of course you will see the proof even more clearly once you feel this cold steel penetrating your flesh.  So enough chit-chat.  It’s been far to long since I killed anyone.”  The boy named Gladius turned toward the two halves of the giant, resting in a pool of his own blood.  “Well, at least since I’ve polished off someone worth killing.”

                The situation was far worse than she feared.  She could not bear to think of her son becoming what this boy is.  The thought was horrifying.  She had always thought that his horrible fate meant him becoming a nomad, or became mortally ill; but to turn into a demon, she would not let it happen.

                The spell was broken, but she would have to buy some time, keep him talking till her son emerged from the house.  “Geloo?  Who the hell is he, some weak old man who sends a bunch of brats and mercenaries to fight for him?”  The boy appeared to know what she was thinking, but he played right along, enjoying the sight of her unease.

                “Old, well there is no doubt about that.  If I had to wager a guess I’d say around two thousand, give or take a century.  Of course I doubt even he knows his age anymore.”

                  “How is that possible?”

                  “Oh come now, I am sure you’ve heard the legends of the mages.  People whom the elements bow before.  The myth says that they were given these powers by gods to defeat the Ethrite, but of course you know all this.”

                  Seral stood in a stunned silence for a minute.  The news hit her like a splash of cold water.  Mages!  It was impossible.  They should have died off after the last of the Ethrite were destroyed.  There was obviously much more going on here than she had ever dreamed of.  Her silence was interrupted by the familiar voice of her son, standing in the doorway to their home, a look of terror on his face.
“Mommy, are you okay mommy.  Who are these people?  Leave my mom alone.”  Before Gladius or the mercenaries had time to react Seral was on the child.  Tears were streaming down her eyes as she held him close for the last time. 

                "Its okay baby, mommy’s here.  I’m sorry my little boy, so sorry.  But I won’t let you become one of them, never.”  She raised her sword over her son’s head and lowered the blade.  But at that split second, before the clear diamond could penetrate his skull, Fraske appeared and pushed her off the boy. 

                  “What do you think you are doing Seral?!  Why are you dressed like that?”  Fraske looked furious and confused, a dangerous combination.  He held his son close to him, telling him he would keep the boy safe.  “What the Hell is going on here, who are all these people?  Answer me!”
         Seral did not know what to say.  She was not allowed to speak of her bloodline, but there was nothing left to lose.  Now was the time to tell him everything, before the boy kills us both.  “Dear please listen!  I’m not what you think.  I am the child of a Demi-God.  I’m sorry I kept this secret, we must kill our son, quickly.  We have to save him.”
         Her husband was at a lost for words.  His mind drifted as though in a maelstrom from which only one thought stood strong enough to withstand, “my son will live”.  “Did you bring these people here to kill my boy?  Is this just a game to you gods?  I won’t let you have him, none of you.”  He grabbed the large log splitting axe to his left and took a fighting stance.  Though he was a mortal, Seral knew he had strength that even some gods would envy.  “Make a move, any one of you, and I’ll slice you into quarters.  Go inside son, dad will take care of these people.”
         The boy was afraid but believed his father would keep him safe and protect his mom.  “Ok dad but only if you protect mommy.”  He looked into his father’s eyes with all the love a child could have for his parents.  His dad would protect him and his mom, he knew it.  So the boy stepped inside, locked the door and watched through a hole in the window drapes.




Chapter 3
         Fraske stood in front of the closed door.  His face revealed a blind determination, No one will enter this house so long as I stand.  The axe blade, chipped and dull from lack of maintenance, moved across the crowd, as though it were daring each of the men to move.  Many of the new recruits laughed and snickered at the poor condition of the weapon, but those who had seen their fair share of battles knew, a swing from those powerful arms would cleave through any armor, regardless of the steel’s condition.  And there was still the issue of the woman.
         Seral’s muscles burned as though a wild fire had spread through her body, but that was not why she lay sprawled on the ground.  Tears streamed down her face only to dry before leaving her cheeks.  The expanding flames of the village fire had now reached a critical level.  The usually cool breeze instead carried an unrelenting heat that was almost suffocating.  Her eyes turned to meet her husband.  The usual pearl white of her iris appeared instead as a darkened red, which eerily resembled the drops of blood running down her face. 
         “Please, you must listen.  I would never hurt you or our child.  I don’t care about the gods or my heritage.  I wanted to protect you, keep you safe.  These men are here to kidnap our boy, they want to turn him into a demon.  We have to kill him before its too late, we have to save our baby!”  Seral screamed these words through choked sobs.  “I love you Fraske, I wanted to tell you this would happen.  I should have told you.  Please don’t hate me Fraske, I didn’t want you to have to share this burden.”  Time was running out.  The soldiers were moderately entertained by here pleading, but soon they would become bored and kill them both.  And take her son.
         Looking into her eyes, a sudden realization sprung into his mind, chilling him to his core.  “Seral, you knew this would happen?”  He desperately wanted to hear her say no.  Wanted her to accuse him of being an idiot for even thinking such a thing.  The tone of his voice echoed this plea.  “Please, tell me it isn’t so.”
         The dark and desperate look Fraske gave his wife froze her in place.  For what felt like an eternity she suffered under that piercing gaze.  The weight of her guilt was like an anchor, lowering her further and further into the depths of despair.
         “Yes, I knew.”
         The confirmation of his darkest fear sent Fraske into a violent spasm of emotions.  His soul was torn through fear, hate, anger, despair.  His expression was the blatant look of betrayal.  This women, with whom he shared a bed, whom he would have died for, she let all this happen.  Didn’t warn him.  He could not understand why and sickening himself, realized he didn’t want to. 
         “If I told you the gods would have killed you.  A mortal cannot know his destiny, it is not allowed.  I just wanted to be the best wife possible while I still could.”  She could see all this falling on def ears.  He would not listen to her.  The pain was too much to bare.  From within the crowds she could here footsteps approaching.  She no longer cared.  All was lost.  The one thing she had lived for now looked upon her with disgust.  She longed desperately for the inevitable death that approached her.  With sword in hand, she toyed with the idea of just killing herself, but her body would not respond to her commands.  Not even my own flesh will listen to me, thought Seral.
         From the corner of her eye she saw a young warrior’s raised weapon begin its decent.  Seral closed her eyes and waited…  The blow did not occur.  Momentarily confused, she turned completely around.  Instead of her murderer she saw Fraske.  He looked down on her and, to her complete surprise, smiled.
         “Seral…  I do love you.  Enough I would give my life for you.  I don’t pretend to understand any of what is going on.  Please, let me see you smile, just one more time.”  Blood trickled its way down the corner of Fraske’s mouth.  A blade protruded from his chest, a sea of red was expanding over his shirt.  Behind her spouse she could see the body of her assailant, split across the stomach, warm entrails leavening each half.  Seral gave him his wish.
         “Fraske, this was inevitable, I just wanted to keep you alive.  I didn’t want you to see what I really am.  If I could die to protect my family, then I would have been happy.  I know you would have tried to stop me, that you would have fought on your own.  I am so sorry.  I love you.”  In the midst of the battlefield, with scorching winds and countless corpses, they shared their final kiss.
         “One last thing Seral, our son.  Let him live.  There is always hope.  Even the gods cannot know his future for certain, and I believe…” his eyes began to close, his voice faded to not more than a whisper, “I know he will become a man worthy of legend.  Farewell, Seral, and thank you.”
         Seral was surprised when she did not cry.  There was sadness, more powerful than anything she could have imagined, but she also felt warmth.  He did still love her, right till the end.  She had wanted to protect him, but in the end it was his sacrifice that kept her alive.  Strength returned to her body, not like when she first touched the sword’s hilt, this strength, the intensity of vengeance, was on an entirely different level.  Her power, born from her husband’s loving sacrifice, was now beyond understanding.  Heat more intense than the flames raging down below issued from her body, a result of the immeasurable energy her entire being emanated.  She knew she was still facing death at the hands of the countless troops (or the demon child named Gladius), but still she would fight and show her son that his mommy and daddy died a proud death.  Let him see what true power is, let him see righteousness.  So that one day, just as Fraske believed, he would become a man of legend.
         The sword still clutched in Seral’s hand resonated.  It was ready.  She could see Gladius’ halberd through the mesh of troops, he would not come to her, she would have to go to him. 
                  Roughly four hundred men stood between the two of them.  Seral closed her eyes, listening to her pulse.  A latent ability had awoken in her.  She emptied her mind of all thought and concentrated.  The bellowing of the soldiers and the commotion of charging steel came to an almost abrupt halt.  Her eyes opened.  Before her the charging soldiers moved at a pace that was unnaturally slow.  Seral knew that her mind was functioning at a speed hundreds of  times that of a normal human.  The people were in fact moving at their previous pace, yet her perception made everything appear motionless, the same way a fly perceives a swatting hand’s movements as a sluggish wave.
                To any onlooker, the soldiers would have appeared to fall in unison, with only a small delay noticeable every thirty men.  A slight distortion in the air was the last image branded into the minds of the vanquished.  Seral’s speed carried her effortlessly through the horde of mercenaries.  For a moment she was disheartened by the display Gladius had put on only moments ago.  He would know she was coming, but she could not imagine any living creature, let alone a young boy, capable of even comprehending the directions of her attacks. 
                Less than a minute had passed between her first and last blade strike on the charging men when her opening appeared.  Gladius stood alone, unprotected. She turned towards her target and attacked with all her fury. 
                Clank!
         
              The noise seemed to reverberate forever under Serals immense concentration.  For a moment she stood stunned, mesmerized by the unexpected sound.  She looked at the child, who stood grinning like a devil with his blade halting her attack.  Neither could talk (they were now moving faster than sound), but his expression was clear, he was going to kill her.

                With incredible agility the boy retracted his weapon and launched a flurry of strikes from a multitude of angles.  Seral barely avoided each blow.  She was losing ground.  Several counter-attacks were launched, yet each fell into empty space. 

                A sudden attack from her left sent Seral sprawling to the ground.  Her armor prevented any fatal injuries, but the gouge in her shoulder was a dark sign.  Her body would no longer be capable of moving at its previous inconceivable momentum.  She made a painstaking turn to see her enemy.  My reaper, she told herself. 

                The young boy towered over her.  Seral felt as though his very presence could kill.  Blood fell casually from her injury, a small crimson pool was gradually growing in size.  Gladius studied her broken body, a look of pure ecstasy transparent through his young features.

                His grip on the halberd shifted.  Rather than brandishing the pole in the center as was custom, he instead gripped the oversized weapon as though it were an executioner’s axe.  “Well, I must say you were entertaining.”  He raised the weapon directly over his head, a stance that gave the illusion of tripling the boy’s already surprisingly grand height.  The smoke from the dieing village fire dissolved into the sky, revealing a full moon, partially obstructed by the gleaming blade.
In a panic, Seral grabbed a hidden dagger from her waist and flung it towards Gladius’ face.  A track of read spread down his right cheek, as though an invisible painter had superficially placed the mark across the boy’s skin.

                Fury contorted the boy’s features.  The would be handsome characteristics of a young man became disfigured.  Teeth were braised like a wild animal.  His pupils dilated to an unnatural level, subsequently drowning out the hazel like a dark shadow covering a desert plain on a moonless night, eclipsing its former beauty.  His was the face of a devil.

              “You damned women!  You wench!  Your son will suffer for this I guarantee it!  I will torment him till the day he dies!”

              The massive length of steel began its murderous decent, but it was not her killer that Seral was watching.  She titled her head a quarter turn and, to her horror, saw her little boy, watching with a look of pure fear across his face.  A sudden, chilling sensation of cold steel pierced her chest down through her pelvis.  The brisk air stung her revealed organs.  And then, finally, the image of her boy disappeared, engulfed by darkness. 




Chapter 4
         From behind the curtain veil Nix stood and watched the horrific scene unfold.  He looked on as his father sacrificed himself to protect his mother.  His mind became obscured by denial.  Even as his father’s eyes became dull and the strong body fell from his mother’s arms, Nix still would not believe.  For a long moment he watched the shell that had once carried the soul of the man he looked upon as a hero, waiting for the inevitable movement or twitch that would prove his father was still alive.  But as each terrible second past the grave reality of his idol’s mortality dug deeper into the boy’s mind.  His father was dead. 
         The battlefield became blurred, obscured by the overflow of tears Nix was silently emitting.  A red patch danced through a sea of brushed iron armor.  His mother.  Nix became entranced by the speed with which his only surviving parent gracefully moved amongst her foes.  The boy sat and watched each swing of the blade, each enemy collapse.  The surprise born form the spectacle his mother was presenting halted the boy’s torment.  As the few remaining tears departed from their birthplace, the landscape returned with a renewed clarity. 
         An unexpected emotion awoke in Nix as he witnessed the deaths of the invading army.  Something deep within trembled, not foreign, but not natural either.  His mother, who had been difficult to follow with her blinding speed, suddenly slowed in movement.  He could follow each beautiful length of onyx black hair as it trailed behind her.  The various mists of blood methodically released from the villains fell at a lazy pace, reflecting the moon’s brilliant yet pale glow.  As his young and vibrant eyes began adapting to his mother’s velocity more and more, Nix soon found himself watching where the next strike would land, long before finishing her prior attack.  And as a result, he was aware of the fatal blow that would soon leave him orphaned in the world, even though it would not occur for seconds later. 
         Long after this living nightmare disappeared into memory and the many bodies returned to the earth from whence they came, Nix would remember the nauseating feeling of helplessness he was now experiencing.  The swift blade that had ended the life of his father came as a surprise to Nix.  His tremendous grief was born of shock, the chill of bitter reality drowning his mind.  But what this child knew would soon unfold created a suffering in his very soul that attacked with the savagery and primal fury of a vicious mountain wolf.  An unseen foe that moved with a power and speed dwarfing his mother’s progressively broke through her defense, and with this Nix felt the beast within slaughtering his deepest beliefs.  Its claws were guilt and its fanged jaw fear.  The demon wolf immobilized his body.  He could not run, could not cover his eyes or hide.  Only watch as his mother made a final effort to injure her assailant.  (The beast’s attack on his soul became a slaughter.)  The blade raised and hung for what felt an eternity to Nix, who, with his last ounce of strength the beast had not yet devoured, was now pounding his small fists on the window and screaming wails of pain and hate. 
         And at last the eternity ended.  All sound ceased to exist.  The roar of the town fire faded into an unseen oblivion.  The shouts of the living and dying soldiers became mystically muted.  All senses ended.  The warmth from the fireplace could not penetrate the boy’s conscious.  The single tear making its lone decent down the child’s smooth healthy skin went unnoticed.  From the boy’s imagination the wolf’s growl echoed within him, a triumphant snarl filled with a sadistic pleasure.  Its victory was only moments away.  The blade fell at an impossibly slow decent.  The sole movement in a world now frozen in the eyes of Nix.  At the final moment before the beautifully polished steel would sever his mother into halves, their eyes met.  Her iris shown like a beautiful jade emerald and for a moment Nix felt safe again.  And almost as though it were alive and responding to the boy’s hope, the blade cleaved his mother into two sections. 
         Blood.  Death.  Chaos.  At once the world became alive again, only far more intense than ever before.  The noise from outside his home became deafening.  The soft heat of the fire became an inferno.  The smell of blood suffocated his nostrils, causing him to gag.  And then suddenly… darkness.
Chapter 6
Nix stood alone in a world darker than a shadow on the darkest night.  A soft glow appeared from an eternal sky, illuminating a massive black wolf.  He knew he should be afraid of the wolf, knew it meant to kill him, but he did not move. Only stood and stared, fixated upon the golden eyes that looked back upon him.  A voice, not human, though unequivocally male spoke to him through the darkness.  It carried a tone of majesty and confidence that demanded undivided attention.
         “This, young child, is the realm of dementia, of madness.  For every mortal on earth there exists a realm of torment specifically tailored to that individual.  One would normally find horrors beyond description here.  A lifetime of pain that would make earthly struggles seem almost pleasant.  It is the fate that had previously awaited you.  But I could not allow such a thing to occur.  You are too important young Nix.  Far too important.”  For a moment the lumbering wolf did nothing but hold its icy stare, an effect which seemed designed to study the boy as well as heighten its already looming presence.  Nix used this moment to speak, which, in this world devoid of light and mysteriously estranged from any concrete reality, took tremendous effort and concentration.
         “Who are you?”  The words drifted from the boy at a near inaudible level.  Nix was not entirely sure if he had meant the question for the disembodied voice or the menacing canine.  In actuality there was no difference.
         “Ah!  You’ve managed to speak!  Already you impress me child, but the whom is not nearly important as the where, at least for right now it is not.  You will recall, I am sure, that this place is the land for the forsaken.  There exists no physical entrance or exit.  It is a prison.  A prison conceived by the mind when faced with a reality to dark to fathom.  For a young human, witnessing the gruesome death of both parents would certainly fit the criteria.”
         A disturbing grin stretched across the wolf’s snout.
         “But as you can no doubt see this world is not filled with strange horrors and beasts.”  The wolf whimpered.  “Let me rephrase, almost devoid of terrifying beasts.”  The eerie grin returned.  “I know you are young and some of this may sound complicated, but I believe you are capable of a great deal more than many would believe, perhaps even myself.”
         The tone of the voice never altered, but Nix sensed a hidden layer of unease beneath the scholar like articulation during its last statement.  It is not all knowing, the boy concluded.