Apocalypse Run: The First Seal

Raviel the Phantom · January 19, 2016

Prologue

He took solace in the lantern that fought off the swarming darkness. Wiping beads of sweat from his brow, the young man picks up his shovel and continues the dig. Already he finds himself standing six feet beneath the surface, and every inch drives him further into the realm of Hades. As he thrusts the spade into the earth, it bounces off of something hiding under the dirt. Setting the shovel aside, he falls to his knees and brushes away the loose soil. In dismay he finds that it is only a rock that obstructs his dig. Letting out a small sigh, he picks up the rock and throws it out of the hole. Above him, he hears a shrill shriek.

“Watch where you’re throwing things,” caws a dreary old man. Looking up, the digger sees the pale wrinkly features of the crone. Sunken eyes filled with contempt peer down into the hole. “You nearly hit me with that rock you little twit!”

“Bischoff,” a deep voice booms across the cemetery, “If you would not stand so close, you will not risk being struck.”

“How dare you,” the elder turns his hooked nose to someone hidden by shadows. “You will address me properly as Bishop Bischoff, you insolent fool.”

A gloved hand leaps from the darkness, grabbing the bishop by the front of his holy robes. While Bischoff tries to wriggle out of the clutches of his captor, the man steps into the lantern light. He stands a head taller than the elder. A black scarf is wrapped tightly around his mouth, hiding all but his haunting emerald eyes.

When their gaze meets, Bischoff shrinks away, “M-My apologies, Lord Noah.”

The scarfed man shoves the bishop away. Gazing into the hole, he gives the digger a subtle nod, “Benjy, please continue.”

Nodding in kind, the digger picks up the shovel and returns to his work. From the hole another pile of dirt is thrown onto the surface, joining an ever growing mound beside the tombstone. Another follows suit. Thrusting his shovel for the third time, Benjy feels a violent tremor run up his arms. A familiar song rings in the chilled air, but this time it carries a metallic tune.

The digger sets his shovel aside before crawling on all fours to investigate this new obstruction. Brushing aside the loosen dirt, he finds a silvery surface shimmering in the dim light. He claws at the soil, unveiling buried steel. After he has tossed aside several handfuls, Benjy finds himself staring down at a metallic skull. The skull stares back with sockets filled with amethyst, which seem to give off a soft glow of their own. Its teeth are clenched tightly, each tooth sharpened to a fine point. Looking at it, the skull appears angry for being awakened from its slumber.

“Did you find it?” Bischoff asks excitedly.

The digger looks up from the grave, “I believe so, milord.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” the bishop squawks. “Bring it up, bring it up now!”

Benjy grabs his shovel and digs out the rest of the skull. Tossing dirt aside, he finds that it is just a part of something grander. Reaching into the earth, he pulls a chest out of its worm-filled bed. It falls against his stomach, pushing the air out of his body. Benjy stumbles around the hole and almost collapses under its weight. Luckily he manages to wrestle it out of the grave. Light shimmers across its silvery body. Ancient runes are etched around the skull. The archaic symbols tell a thousand year old tale that will never be heard again.

“Yes, yes, this is it!” Bischoff wrings his wrinkled hands together. “Quickly, boy, open it.”

Climbing out of the hole, the young man uses the gravestone to help pull himself to his feet. With the shovel in hand, he walks over to the chest. Benjy steps on the skull, wedging the steel spade into the gap between its teeth. Forcing his entire weight onto the shovel, he manages to break the seal.

Trapped air hisses out of the mouth, pouring over the chest in a blood-red mist. The crimson fog rolls around at their feet. Noah steps away from the strange smog as it passes him. Looking back to the chest, he finds the frail bishop crouched over the chest with greedy eyes. The holy man shoves his arm into the mouth of the skull. A wrinkly smile soon sinks into a frown.

“What is the meaning of this?” he shrieks, grabbing the digger by the collar of his shirt.

“W-What do you mean?” the lad trembles.

Pointing a wrinkly hand at the chest, Bischoff screams, “It’s empty!”

The bishop is suddenly ripped off of the young man and pushed aside. Noah stands between the two of them, his emerald gaze met by the seething Bischoff. When their eyes meet, the wrath seems to be drained from the old man, though the frown he wears stays. Then, Noah turns to the chest, gazing into the mouth to see for himself. Just as the bishop had yelped, it is empty.

“I-I-I wouldn’t lie,” the digger stutters. “I swear to you, milord, this is where the map said it would be. I wouldn’t lie to you, Lord Noah, I would never.”

“Calm down, I believe you,” Noah puts a hand on Benjy’s shoulder. The young man has turned a milky shade of white. “I feared this might be the case. We are too late.”

The bishop scowls, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Death,” Noah answers. “Four graves, each buried in secret cemeteries across the globe. Yet I have little doubt the other three are empty as well.”

“You never said anything about there being four graves,” Bischoff shouts. “You made me a promise, Noah. You told me that you found something of vital importance for the Vatican. Yet all you have shown me is an empty box. I’ve had enough of all your cryptic babbling. Tell me, what was supposed to be in this chest?”

“The instrument that will end all of humanity, and for that reason we have gathered,” Noah answers. Taking the lantern from the old man, he raises it high over his head. Dozens of figures in hooded cloaks step from the veil of darkness and into the light. They stand idle as Lord Noah continues, “We must hunt down those that would see all of existence destroyed. Four creatures, the embodiment of our destruction will soon walk this earth. They are fowl beasts clad in human skin. Our time is running short, we must find them. If not, they will ride and bring about the end of days. We must be the knights of humanity, to defend the realms of man against these monsters. We will eradicate the four…and anyone who would dare stand in our way.”

Bishop Bischoff folds his arms, looking skeptical, “And how do you propose we find these four beasts?”

Noah does not avert his gaze as his voice cries out like thunder, “We shall slay all who answer that ancient call…Come and see!”

Raviel the Phantom · January 19, 2016

Chapter 1

“Huh? Did you say something?” A young lady turns to her friend as the two of them walk down the hallway.

“No,” her friend glances over, looking with a pair of curious blue eyes.

“I swore I heard someone whisper,” the girl looks over her shoulder, tucking a few loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear. “Are you messing with me?”

“No,” her friend says defensively, as the two of them stop at a row of lockers. “Maybe you are just hearing things.”

“Maybe,” the girl shrugs it off without much thought.

Delicate pale fingers fiddle with a combination on a locker beside her friend. The dial spins to the left, and then to the right. She tries to turn the handle, but it does not budge. Growling under her breath, she tries the combination again. Once more the dial spins back and forth, stopping at a few numbers. When she tries to open her locker, it refuses to budge. Frustrated, she kicks her locker. The metal door rings loudly in the emptying hall, but still does not open.

“What is wrong with this stupid thing?” she stamps her feet, going to try the combination again.

Her friend points at the locker number, “Uh, Kiera…that’s not your locker.

Kiera glances up and sees the number “6” bolted to the top of the locker door. A wave off blush touches her cheeks, as she steps to the left of her friend. Again she tries the combination she knows and this time the handle turns.

“Thanks, Rose,” she thanks her friend who is grabbing books out of her own locker. “I don’t know—”

When Kiera opens her locker door, a ball of confetti explodes in her face. For a moment, she is blinded by an assortment of colors. The blast disorients her, as she stumbles and eventually falls on her back end. Wiping the confetti from her eyes, she finds Rose also on the floor, though for a different reason. Her best friend is on her knees, holding her side from laughing. Tears roll down the girl’s eyes, finding the prank amusing.

“That’s not funny,” Kiera glares, picking out the pieces that have become entangled in her hair.

“It is a little,” Rose manages to find a moment between her fits of laughter to answer.

While Rose struggles to calm down, Kiera gets back to her feet, as more of the confetti slides off her. Opening her locker door again, she is met with another surprise. A single balloon hovers beside her coat, tied down by a small box wrapped up with blue paper and a red bow. Beside the present is a yellow card decorated with a pink cake. A rainbow of colors spells out “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”, written in Rose’s bubbly handwriting. Sitting on a shelf above all of the wonderful birthday surprises is the culprit to the confetti attack. One small, colorful cannon remains aimed at her face, though it is empty of its ammunition. Despite the initial prank, Kiera finds the gesture sweet. She looks over to Rose, who has managed to calm down enough to stand up again. Her friend is grinning from ear to ear.

“Awe, did you do all of this?” Kiera asks, her own smile spreading.

“Yep,” Rose wraps her arms around her best friend, giving Kiera a rib-aching squeeze, “Happy Birthday, Kiera.”

Kiera accepts the hug and tries to hold Rose with the same intensity, but comes up short, “Thanks.”

“So,” Rose lets go and puts her hands behind her back, “How does it feel to be an adult?”

“No different from yesterday,” Kiera shrugs, knocking another handful of confetti off of her shirt. “I still don’t see the big deal. I’m only eighteen. Not like we can go to a bar, or anything.”

“It IS a big deal,” Rose shouts, waving her hands over her head, “You get to be an adult now. You are a full grown woman.”

“I’ve been full grown for a while now,” Kiera mocks, rolling her eyes at her friend.

Looking at Rose, Kiera recognizes that her friend is already a woman fully grown. Unlike her slender, almost tomboyish body, Rose has a full figure, budding hips and a bouncing chest that attracts every boy in the school. While the two of them have blonde hair, Rose’s has always looked to be spun from gold. Its long curls match perfectly with her bright, sparkling blue eyes. Rose never even wore makeup, as far as she could tell.

Of course, this is what Rose was, the perfect sight of beauty. If Kiera would look at herself in the mirror, she would see a girl who seems to be just budding into womanhood, compared to her friend of course. Pale skin woven like silk, Rose argued, was her best feature. Her platinum blonde hair and soft grey eyes made her seem to be somewhat of a mystery to the few guys that asked her out in the past.

“Hey, you okay?” Rose sees that Kiera is zoning out, again.

“Yeah,” Kiera shakes her head to shake those thoughts out of her head. “Oh yeah, I need to show you what my parents got me.”

She pulls at a silver chain, pulling out an object from within her shirt. Although the chain is simple twists of silver, it is latched to an elegant pendant. More silver, and traces of obsidian, carve their way into twin snakes that appear to be actually one serpent with two heads. The pair of heads twists around each other, their heads facing away. The body coils around a large ruby about the size of a quarter. Gold is mixed in with the scales of obsidian, allowing the pendant to dazzle. The ruby itself is a blood red, but a small diamond forged inside the gem allows a rainbow of colors to bleed through.

“Oh my god, that’s beautiful,” Rose gasps, even her sparkling eyes pale in comparison to the shining gems. “Where did you parents get that?”

Kiera holds up the pendant, a tint of pride traces her smile, “My dad said that it is a family heirloom.

Her friend snatches the pendant out of her hand, and takes a closer look. Rose notices something etched in silver between the ruby and the snake. The small etchings appear to flash emerald.

“Are those words?” she strains her eyes, but cannot make out what it is.

“Yeah,” Kiera answers, taking her pendant back.

“What does it say?”

Kiera shrugs, “I think it is Latin. My dad said that the gem dates back all the way to the Roman Empire.”

“Wow, that is really cool,” Rose says, as she glances over to the small gift box in the locker. “Well seeing that, I think I need to go get you a new gift.”

Both girls share a glance, before their hands dive into the locker. Rose tries to steal the gift back before Kiera can open it, but ultimately, it is the birthday girl that prevails. She rips off the pretty ribbon and opens the small present. Inside the box is a pair of tickets. Kiera’s eyes widen when she sees what they are for.

“Wicked,” she gasps. “You really got me tickets to Wicked.” Rose smiles after hearing her friend let out a high-pitched squeal. Kiera looks back at the tickets, checking the date, “Wait; the show this weekend? Oh my god, this is amazing. Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome,” Rose says just as her friend throws herself around her. “We’ll take a train into the city and go shopping too.”

“You are the best friend anyone could ever have,” Kiera squeezes Rose so tightly that she can hear friend start to choke. Before Rose could turn blue she lets go. “Alright, we’ll talk about it later. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Rose looks at her best friend with a raised brow, “Uh, Kier, it is only sixth period.”

“Yeah I know,” Kiera says grabbing her backpack out of her locker before slamming it shut. “I have two study halls so I’m gonna skip out early. My parents said they had another surprise for me when I got home.”

“Alright,” Rose gives her one more hug, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before any teachers could see her, Kiera sneaks out of the school. Outside is completely empty of people. Only cars litter the parking lot, from the brand new that the parents bought to the lemons that were purchased through minimum wage. She has neither, forcing her to walk a mile home from the school. Thankfully the October sun hangs high overhead, warming up the earth while the autumn winds keep the heat away. Humming to herself, Kiera embarks on her journey home.

A sudden gust tosses the leaves up around her, raising the skin on her exposed arms. The trees along the road sway gently, as if they were dancing to a silent song. Kiera watches as a pair of chipmunks run along the lower branches, trying to steal acorns from one another. The one with fattened cheeks misses a branch and falls into the grass. As soon as its tiny feet touch the ground, it scurries back to the tree. Watching the spectacle makes Kiera chuckle. She enjoys the scenery, while in the back of her mind she contemplates what surprise her parents have in store for her.

Half way through her trip back, the grassy fields are cut off from her by a white fence. Like every day, Kiera runs her fingers over the wood, finding it smooth to the touch. She eyes the barn a couple hundred yards into the fenced off area, looking like a big red brick from here. Near the brick are a few white dots grazing in the fields. Even from this distance, she hears a loud moo coming from one of the bovines that like to hang near the barn. Then she hears a louder animal cry, a whiney.

A pale figure races toward her upon four hooves, its main flapping against the side of its neck. Unlike the other horses that lived on the farm, this one always seemed to enjoy being near her. It stops at the fence and drops its head. Kiera pets the horse’s muzzle. Its long tongue slips out of its mouth and laps against her cheek, as if it were a dog rather than a horse. A trail of slime sticks to her cheek, but she laughs regardless. The steed nuzzles its nose in her hair, as if it were searching for something.

“Okay, okay,” Kiera laughs, trying to push it away for a second. “I brought it, don’t worry.”

Reaching into her backpack, she pulls out a shiny red apple she took from the cafeteria. Before she is able to take a bite herself, the pale horse snatches the entire thing out of her hand. She tries to pull it back, but it is too late. Two chomps of its big mouth turns the apple to mush, as it swallows the whole thing, core and all. Kiera tries to scold the horse for hogging it, but it only snorts in her face.

“You’re such a pig,” she jokes, petting its mane. It nudges her again with its nose, as if to say it enjoys her petting. Of course, she happily obliges. “Oh, I cannot stay mad at you. You are too cute.”

Patting the horse goodbye, she continues on home. Even though she walks away, the pale horse follows her on the other side of the fence. It only stops when it reaches the corner of the farmland, letting out an almost sad whiney as she leaves him behind. A block down the road has her house come into view. A long walkway leads up to a porch. Kiera races up to the porch, leaping up the few steps in a single bound. The old wood creaks under her feet as she steps to the door.

“Mom, dad, I’m home,” she greets them as she opens the door.

Only when she enters the home, she is not met with the warm reception she expected. Her parents are there, but they do not say a word. They lie dead on the floor, their throats sliced open and blood still streaming onto the carpet. Two red puddles soak into the fabric. Blood is splattered on the walls, decorating the living room in their life. Standing over the bodies is a third adult. His face is covered by a black ski mask. Gripped in his gloved hand is the murder weapon. A six inch long knife still soaked in her parents’ blood.

The murderer looks at the horror on Kiera’s face, as he greets her with a harsh voice, “Oh, you’re home early. I guess I should say…Happy Birthday.”

Raviel the Phantom · January 19, 2016

Chapter 2

“No,” Kiera looks at the two mangled corpses before tears blur her vision. “Mom…Dad…”

The crimson still glistens on the knife of their masked assailant. The tip of its blade turns ever so slowly until it fixates itself on her. Kiera can see the murderous glint in his eye, causing her to shy away. Ever so carefully, she takes one step toward the door. And then another. Each movement is slow and methodical, while her eyes never leave his, as if she were gazing at a savage beast. Licking against the back of her neck is a gentle breeze coming through the door frame. A familiar creak of the floorboard means she is nearly outside. Then, she feels something solid press against her back. For a moment she thinks it is the door, but her body sinks into it, the surface soft yet warm. A deep wheeze blows hot air on the back of her head.

Kiera unwillingly breaks eye contact with the masked killer to see what, or rather, who has stopped her escape. Staring down at her is another man in a ski mask even larger than the man wielding the knife. He barely squeezes through the door frame, as his portly belly pushes her back inside. Before she can run away, two gorilla-sized arms wrap around her. The fat accomplice puts her in a bear hug and lifts her off the ground. She tries to scream, but his sickening body odor makes her gag. All Kiera can do is flail her legs wildly, hoping to squeeze through his sweaty clutches.

“Hey, let go of me,” she tries to wriggle out of his grip.

The portly man laughs hoarsely, “Well, this was a pretty easy job.”

“Yeah-yeah,” the knife wielding man says, walking over to his partner. He kicks one of the corpses out of his way to get to Kiera, “Just make sure you hold her still.”

Positioning the knife, he prepares to slice through her throat, but his request falls on deaf ears. Kiera makes sure her final moments are difficult for both men. Her legs swing wildly, hitting into her captor a few in the thigh, only to make it jiggle. A wild strike catches the assailant between the legs. A shrill groan leaves his lips as his legs turn to jelly. The man drops to the floor with a loud thud. He curls in the fetal position, whimpering.

“Hey Mickey, you okay?” his partner asks while trying to hold back a laugh.

“S-Shut up” the man answers at a higher octave than before.

Before Mickey has a chance to get back to his feet, Kiera manages to give his partner a similar present. The back of her heel slams him between his legs, and she feels his arms loosen. Kiera hits the floor just as the man starts to fall like a timbering oak. She darts out of the way as he crashes onto his partner. The smaller man groans again with his hefty partner smashing on top of him. Now on her own feet, Kiera turns to the door, but finds that the big man’s body still blocks the exit.

“George, get up you fat bastard,” she hears Mickey complain, his voice back to normal.

While the two men are struggling to get back on their feet, Kiera decides to run into the house. She looks away from the corpses as she splashes through their blood. A few steps out of the living room have her in the kitchen, racing to a door beside the breakfast nook. She throws it open to a set of wooden stairs leading to the basement. Closing the door behind her blankets her in darkness. Only a small sliver of daylight peeks from under the door, showering the steps in a gray veil. Her hands fumble for the railing as she takes each step carefully. Halfway down, she makes out a metal chain swinging precariously from the ceiling. It takes a few tries to get a good hold of it, but she manages to pull it. The basement is bathed in an orange glow, as she bounds down the rest of the stairs to the cement bottom. Each footstep seems to magnify in the cemented room, causing her to wince. Carefully, yet quickly, she trots to the far end of the basement.

There, a second set of stairs are carved into the ground. Each gray step leads op out of the basement to a pair of large metal doors. She climbs her way up toward the doors, and pushes. Outside she hears the old, rusted hinges creak, their song echoing into the basement. She pushes harder, but the door moves no more than a crack. Her heart catches in her throat when she eyes something wooden lying across both doors. On closer look, Kiera sees that it is the shovel from the shed that bars her way to freedom. Knowing there is no use pursing this way, she returns to the basement for another means of escape.

“Hey, did you hear that?” she hears Mickey talking upstairs.

George wheezes, “Yeah, sounds like we caught the little bird.”

Their footsteps thump loudly overhead as they walk through the kitchen. The door from the kitchen opens with a slight squeak. The wooden stairs groan, most likely under George’s weight, as the two men come down into the basement to find her. Kiera looks around frantically. Nothing nearby can be used as a weapon, not that she has a chance of fighting them off. With little other options, she chooses to hide. At the bottom of the stone steps is the water heater. She squeezes between the metal cylinder and the wall. It is hot to the touch, causing her to wince when it grazes her arm. Even with the skin blistering, she bites her tongue and holds in the noise. That is, until she does not see the overhead pipe. It rings off her head. A painful curse leaves her lips before she has the chance to silence herself.

“There she is!” Mickey shouts, as he and his partner hurry after her.

Kiera tries to slink away, but George’s large arm is able to reach her ankle. He grabs her ankle and pulls her out. Although she tries to kick him, his thick coat merely absorbs her shots. A moment later, Kiera finds herself pinned to her back with Mickey, the knife wielder, standing over her. Both men have removed their masks. Mickey is a weasel-faced man with a large scar scrawled underneath his left eye. On the other hand, George looks like a swollen bullfrog with an extra set of chins.

“Let’s get this over with,” Mickey grumbles, as he spins the knife between his fingers.

“No, please,” Kiera begs, but tries to break free. George holds her arms while Mickey has her legs pinned under his feet. “I won’t tell anyone that I saw you. I promise, please, don’t do it. Don’t kill me, I don’t want to die!”

Mickey merely laughs at her pleading. The black gloved of his right hand tightens its grip on the knife. He brings it down, ready to plunge the blade into her heart. In that split second before life and death, Kiera fidgets one last time, jostling her pendant beneath her shirt. As the tip of the weapon cuts through cloth, it does not find flesh. The basement rings with the sound of metal against metal.

*Crack*

The tip of the knife stabs just below the twin throats of the serpents. A crack runs along the jewelry, running up through the ruby, though it does not break. Seeing what he has done, Mickey stumbles away, dropping the knife. George does the same, crawling away from Kiera as if she were the plague.

“W-What did you do?” the portly partner screams at Mickey.

“I-I-I didn’t mean to,” he stammers, “S-She moved.”

“We got to hurry! Kill her before—”

The voice trails off as the ground rumbles violently at Kiera’s feet. The cement floor rips apart, cracking like the pendant around her neck. It then opens like the maw of some terrible beast. Flames of sapphire blue spew from the depths. They dance hauntingly, seemingly consuming the other light in the basement. A pale glow casts over her and the two men. Among the ghastly embers, a pale figure crawls its way out of the hole. Slowly, it gets to its feet. It takes on a humanoid shape as the blue light from the fire almost appears to focus on the being.

The flames calm before a young man, who is unfeeling of their intense heat. Long locks of coal black hair hang down his back, left in a wild array. Only scraps of black garments wrap around his waist, while the rest of him is left bare. His figure is slim, yet muscular. The man looks over his shoulder. His eyes meet Kiera’s. She sees that they are a daunting amber color with an inlay of gold that flashes like fire.

“So, you are the one,” he says, coldly. Turning away from her, he spots the two men cowering at his presence. “Have these men tried to harm you?”

Kiera manages to say, “Yes.”

The young man starts to approach. With each step the air round him ripples, as if it is being superheated. Both Mickey and George turn to run away, though the thinner of the two gets a greater distance. The heavy set assailant turns to find the man mere inches away. Rather than cower, he stands his ground ready to pummel the person half his size and a third his weight. His large gorilla fist swings for the face. The knuckles never reach the young man. It is swallowed up by the same blue fire as before. George shrieks in pain as the flames crawl up his flesh, quickly swallowing him whole. His wailing is short, as he is reduced to a pile of ash by the sapphire blaze.

Watching his partner being scorched to nothingness, Mickey lunges for his knife. The amber-eyed youth watches patiently as the assailant grabs his weapon. Armed with his blade, the murderer turns his weapon not on the boy, but the girl. He races for Kiera. Thrusting the blade, it finds flesh this time, as blood splatters on the floor.

Kiera shudders as she sees the young man standing between her and her attacker, the knife buried deep in his chest. Mickey lets go of the blade, backing away while trembling horribly. His victim looks uncaringly at the knife, and then rips it out of his body. It clatters to the floor. All that is left is a wound that is rapidly closing back up.

“You, you’re a demon,” is all that Mickey can say.

“Not a demon,” is the answer the assailant gets, as his victim approaches. A hand grabs at his throat, as the young man lifts him up in the air. Their eyes meet, and for an instance, it is like the murderer is looking into the depths of Hell. “I am the Demon King.”

Without even a cry, the murderous Mickey is consumed by the sapphire flames. Now only her, and the Demon King remain. The Lord of Darkness steps toward her, his eyes igniting like fire. She becomes lost in his deep, daunting gaze that she forgets her desire to run. Before she can realize what is happening, he is standing over her.

“P-Please don’t hurt me,” she shields herself, expecting the end.

Her plea is met only with silence. The master of demons moves, his bare feet making soft taps on the cold cement. When Kiera moves her hands away from her eyes, she sees him on bended knee. His head is bowed, like a knight awaiting His Grace’s command.

“I, Lucifer, King of Demons,” his voice is soft, and almost kind. “I am here to serve you. You are the Horseman of Death.”

Raviel the Phantom · January 19, 2016

Chapter 3

Pitch darkness surrounds her like heavy smog. Kiera looks around, but is unable to find a single thing. Even waving her hand in front of her face shows only black. She fears she has gone blind, rubbing her eyes a few times hoping it will allow light to flow into her sight. When she opens them again, she finds such a soft glow off in the distance. Through the fog of shadows, a path seems to be created, beckoning her to the light. She takes a few steps forward, though each one is more hesitant than the last.

“Walking toward the light,” she says wearily, “I died, didn’t I?”

No one is there to answer her, so she continues walking toward the white glow off in the distance. The shade rolls around her, dancing like a fog as it sinks and crawls about her ankles. Suddenly, her feet sink, as the solid ground transforms beneath her. Something tickles at her legs, a familiar sensation that she recalls. Dew from the grass dampens fringe of her socks, yet she continues closer.

Once she comes closer, she watches as the soft white light transform. It turns to a colorful mixture of reds and oranges. Kiera sees that it is not some mystical light, but rather the glow of a torch. The holder is dressed in robes of black. Similar robed figures gather around the torch holder, as they stand amidst what appears to be four tomb markers. Kiera cautiously walks toward them, but it appears that none of them pay her any mind.

Kiera observes that they stand in the middle of four tombstones, each perfectly separated, spaced like the four points of a compass. Each stone faces one another and the ground appears to have been disturbed. The bodies lying six feet below are fresh to the earth. Kiera notices that they are all facing one of the tombstones in particular.

Taking another brave step closer, it is like she steps through a barrier. She hears them chanting. The words are all gibberish, nothing that she is familiar with. Their words seem to droll on, mindless words that fail to show any inclination of life behind the speakers, yet it persists. Kiera makes sure her steps are careful as she moves closer. More curious than scared, she steps beside one of the robe figures. As much as she tries, their face seems to be covered by more than the hood of the robe. Darkness envelops the face, blocking off the identity.

“What in the world,” she says allowed, half-hoping that they might hear.

The chanting stops. A tingle races up her spine, expecting for them to attack her. They, however, do not, just stare at the tomb that they were chanting to. All of a sudden, Kiera feels the earth beneath her feet tremble, as light as it may be. Crumbling dirt draws her soft gray eyes over to the tombstone, as something pale breaks the surface. And then another, followed by a third. Four small pillars break through the dirt, but more still comes. The pillars connect to a palm, as the hand of the dead pulls itself into the realm of the living again. A slender arm follows, and then a second limb breaks free of the soft earth. The rest of the body pulls itself out of the grave. Dirt falls away from a head of long, silvery hair. The figure of a woman rises from death. Kiera watches, dumbstruck as the woman looks like a ghostly mirror of herself. The risen woman’s skin seems to glow like moonlight, her silver locks dazzling like precious metal.

“Lady Death,” the robed figures speak as one voice.

She opens her eyes in response. Bewitching eyes of crimson look out at the group. She acknowledges them, but says not a word. Kiera merely looks at the event play out, unable to find any words to say to this haunting other-self. Two of the robed figures step forward to Lady Death, as they call her, and remove their hoods. Kiera gasps when she sees that it is her parents. They look in perfect health, with no signs of the knife marks that raked across their throats.

“I must be dead,” Kiera sobs.

“Welcome, Lady Death,” her father says, bowing, “We have awaited you.”

Lady Death says not a word, but her blood-gaze shifts from the robed figures to Kiera. While her parents do not seem to notice her own existence, Lady Death is aware of her presence. Kiera stares back, unable to find a single word to say.

Death cannot claim Death…

Kiera rises from her bed as the alarm clock blares in her ear. She is left in a haze of confusion. Looking around, she finds herself back in her bedroom. She touches her face. Though it is clammy, there is warmth to it. Just to make sure, she pinches her cheek. While she winces, she cannot help but smile at the thought. The pain is real, she is real.

“What a dream,” she sighs with relief.

Climbing out of bed, she fits her feet in her slippers and makes her way down the hallway. Halfway through, she catches the salty smell of sausage blistering on a skillet and the sweet scent of maple syrup. Her stomach growls happily as she heads for the kitchen.

“Mom, dad, you will not believe the dream I had,” she says, as she enters the kitchen.

Putting down his coffee, the devil says, “It wasn’t a dream, Kiera…”

Raviel the Phantom · January 19, 2016

Chapter 4

Kiera looks down at her plate wearily. A normal breakfast is laid out before her. Egg whites with the yokes still bubbling yellow like a pair of eyes. Three links of fast sausage sit beside the eggs, their juices bubbling out the fork holes the devil left when he set them down on her plate. Lastly there are several orange slices. The others are on his plate. Kiera pokes at her eggs and the yellow yoke pops, letting the perfect sphere ooze out onto the yoke.

“Eat up, or it will get cold,” the Devil says before taking a bite of sausage.

She reluctantly sticks a fork in her sausage and brings it up to her mouth. Only a morsel of it passes through her teeth before she takes a bite. A mixture of sweet and spicy flourishes in her tongue sprouting a bouquet of blissful flavor. Her mouth drools for more and she scarfs down the rest of the sausage. She is about to grab another when her silverware stops inches from the next sausage. A suspicious eye turns up toward the Devil, who happens to be helping himself to the same meat.

“Something the matter?” he looks at her curiously, his amber eyes glint gold.

“You’re the devil?” she questions him.

“That I am,” he says.

She glares at him suspiciously, “Why would the devil make ME breakfast?”

He shrugs, “Just thought it would be something nice I could do for you. You’ve been through a lot.”

She looks down at the plate and then back up to him, “What’s going on?”

The Devil sets down his fork and looks at her, “Well, where to begin?”

“How about what you are doing here, if you really are the devil,” she suggests.

He thinks for a moment, “Well, you did summon me.”

“How did I do that?” she seems taken aback, being accused of summoning Satan.

“I looked, and behold, an ashen horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hell was following with him,” the devil recites. “You are the horseman, well, rather the horsewoman, of Death. You have dominion over Hell and call forth any demon.”

“But I didn’t try to summon anyone,” she argues.

Satan points to the amulet around her neck, “When the seal was damaged, a bit of the power was released. Although I am sure you didn’t try to, you needed help, and summoned me.”

“If you are the Satan, then why are you being so nice to me?”

“Well, it is my duty to serve the Horseman of Death,” he admits, “And please do not call me Satan. It is just an ugly name. The same goes for Lucifer, far too old timey for this era.”

“Then what do I call you?” she wonders, “The Devil?”

“Lucas,” he says affirmatively. “It has a modern flare, don’t you think.”

Kiera shrugs as she glances over to the clock, “Oh no, I’m gonna be late.”

“For school? You’re thinking of school?” Lucas looks at her in disbelief, “There are far more pressing matters.”

“Look,” she says, getting up from the table, “I didn’t ask to be your horseman. I’m just a high school senior, nothing more. And I got to get to class.”

“Then I’m coming too,” he insists. “You need to be protected.”

She scowls at him, “You’d have a better chance of Hell freezing over, before I let the devil protect me.”

Lucas smiles, “Well actually…”

He does not get to speak any more as Kiera storms out of the house.

Her walk to school is relatively brisk and closed off. As she walks passed the farm on her way, her friend the ashen-colored horse trots up beside her, expecting a carrot from her as per the usual. However, this day she completely ignores him. Frustrated, the big beast tries to nip at her hair, only to be caught a few inches short, separated by the white wooden fence.

Although she ignores the horse, she is aware of another following her. Kiera stops when she gets to the stop sign, she turns over her shoulder to see black disappear behind a building. A car speeds through the stop sign, causing her hair to flutter in her eyes. Through the follicles, she sees a young man trying to dart out of her line of sight. She brushes her hair back just as she sees Lucas trying to act inauspicious, his back turned to her.

“You are going to follow me?” she puts her hands on her hips, scowling.

“I told you I need to protect you,” he answers earnestly.

Kiera bites her bottom lip out of frustration, “Fine, you can come along.”

“Really?” the fire in his eyes flashes, tell of excitement in his voice.

“Yeah, but no funny business,” she points an accusing finger at the Devil.

Lucas holds up his hands defensively, “Of course, of course, I would do nothing of the sort.”

Kiera grumbles as she crosses the street. The whole idea of the devil walking beside her on her way to school is an unusual situation for her to say the least. Every so often she glances over to the young fiend, watching him keep pace with her while humming a merry little tune to himself.

Can he really be the embodiment of evil? She wonders to herself. He seems too nice.

Before long the unlikely pair makes their way to the front of the steps. Waiting for them as she does every day is Kiera’s best friend, Rose. The bubbly brunette bounces down the steps up to Kiera with a great big hug, like she normally does. Kiera just accepts the squeeze, feeling her ribs strain against her best friend’s vice-like arms.

“Gooooood morning,” Rose sings.

“Good morning to you too, Rose,” Kiera squeaks out with an exhale.

That is when Rose glances over to the young man that accompanied Kiera to school and is still waiting there. The dark haired Lucas stands there, his eyes cast off to the side. A small touch of color rises to his cheeks. Immediately, Rose releases Kiera of her hug and steps over to Lucas. He steps back from her approach, as their faces become within inches of one another.

“Is this a secret lover, Kiera?” Rose asks inquisitively.

Kiera and Lucas both flush, but it is her best friend who answers, “What? It is n-nothing like that. This is just my cousin, Lucas. Lucas, this is my friend Rose.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” he uncomfortably offers her a handshake.

Rose does not take it, but instead leans even closer, completely violating any personal space Lucas had left. A few droplets of sweat roll along the side of his face, as Rose’s fully lips curve into a sensual smile.

“He’s cute,” she admires. “Do you mind if I date him instead.”

“What? No!” Kiera shouts a bit too loudly.

Rose pouts at the rejection, “Awe, why not?”

“B-Because,” Kiera pauses to think up a lie, but she is inevitably saved by the bell.

She grabs Lucas by the arm and pulls him away from her friend bearing down on him. Lucas simply complies as he is dragged up the steps into the school building. Kiera gives him a sharp look, but he only smiles wearily, as if to thank her. She just rolls her eyes, and releases her grip of his arm, allowing him to meet her at his own pace. Down the hall, they walk together into Kiera’s first class. With Rose in another classroom, it will buy Kiera a bit of time.

Inside the classroom is a long table up by the chalkboard littered with beakers and vials. Some of them are filled with colored liquids, while others are just left empty. A piece of chalk dances on the board as formulas are being written by the teacher. Standing easily six-foot-five he has to hunch to write toward the bottom of the chalkboard. When he turns to face the students, the edge of his lab coat brushes the powdered chalk, smearing the formula he just wrote. Some of the students snicker, but the majority remains silent. While he is thin for someone his height, his eyes provide an imposing nature. The teacher scans over the students quietly, as he does every morning, to make sure they stay silent. That is when he sees Lucas standing in the middle of the desks beside Kiera. The devil smiles weakly, waving hello.

“And who might you be?” the teacher asks, tilting his head to look at Lucas without the use of his round glasses.

“I-I’m Lucas, Kiera’s cousin,” even the king of demons seems to shake in this man’s presence. “I am going to be attending classes with her for the rest of the semester.”

“Ah,” the teacher says, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, “Well then, welcome Lucas. I am Mr. Anderson. And since you did not find a seat, you can come up to the board and solve this formula.”

Lucas looks to Kiera, who motions for him to comply. The Devil steps up to the front, where Mr. Anderson hands the young man the chalk. Turning to the board, Lucas faces an array of letters that create a formula for the question at hand. His amber eyes read it over a few times.

“So I just need to find the weight percentage of the alkali metals that make up this compound?” Lucas looks to Mr. Anderson for conformation.

“As I figured—,” Mr. Anderson is about to scold the young man when his words fail to roll off his tongue. “Wait, what did you say?”

“I need to find the alkali metal weight percentage?” Lucas says sheepishly.

“Y-yes, that is correct,” Mr. Anderson says.

Lucas smiles as he puts the chalk up to the board, as it dances along, shoveling out formulas of his own. He works out the extensive problem bit by bit, making sure to show Mr. Anderson, along with the rest of the class, the proper way to solve the problem. After several minutes, the chalk falls and Lucas steps away. The class is silent as Mr. Anderson looks at the answer.

“That is correct,” he answers, each word slow and full of astonishment.

Lucas smiles and returns to Kiera’s side. Although this time, he squats down so that he is eye-level with her. Meanwhile he is oblivious to all the eyes zoned in on him. It takes him a moment to read the room.

Leaning over to Kiera, he asks, “Why are they all staring at me?”

Kiera is also dumbfounded by his abilities, so he asks her again. Finally she gains her senses and answers, “That was a grad school level question. Mr. Anderson starts each class with one.”

“Was I not supposed to be able to solve it?” he whispers back. When she shakes her head, he says, “I saw the universe be created and have been alive for millions of years. Of course I would know a simple problem like that.”

Luckily the awkwardness is dispelled with the bell ring for the end of the period. The class gets up to head for their next class. Kiera and Lucas included head for the door.

“Excuse me, Lucas was it?” Mr. Anderson calls from the front of the room. “Could I have a word with you?”

Lucas turns to the teacher and walks back. Kiera joins as well, but Mr. Anderson puts up his hand as if to block her.

“There is no need for you to be here, Miss Reigns,” he says. “I wish to speak with your cousin alone.

Raviel the Phantom · January 19, 2016

Chapter 5

While the rest of the students clear out of the classroom, Lucas and Mr. Anderson are left behind. The teacher motions for the young man to take a seat at the front desk. The elder takes his place at his desk, the coil of his seat sinks under his weight. He purposefully pauses for a moment in order to create tension. Lucas sits patiently, keeping straight faced, though his lip seems to be quivering into a cocky grin.

“You are quite the bright one,” Mr. Anderson finally breaks the silence.

Lucas shrugs, “I suppose so. I just watch a lot of educational television.”

The teacher cocks a brow, “I didn’t think they touch grad level chemistry on the Discovery Channel.”

“Yeah, I guess they did,” Lucas realizes he is caught in a lie. “I also read a lot of books.”

Mr. Anderson eyes the boy up and down. The icy blue eyes of his seem to pierce through Lucas, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Another long pause follows, but then Mr. Anderson pulls aside his shirt collar. His thumb slides underneath a silver chain, as he pulls on it to reveal a heavy looking metal cross. The edges are inlaid with obsidian to accent the silvery glint of the steel. Instead of a metal savior being crucified, a blood-red diamond glistens under the florescent lights. At the three points are strange etchings that appear to be runes.

“That is quite an interesting cross,” Lucas admires.

“Thank you,” Mr. Anderson turns the jeweled crucifix to see it himself. “It was a gift. While a man of science, I do find the notion of a world beyond our understanding to be a fascinating one.”

“Oh I see,” Lucas’ eyes flash gold.

Mr. Anderson turns his eyes to Lucas again, “What do you think?”

“Me?” the young man wonders, furrowing his brow as if to think, “Well, I suppose it could be possible. There is a lot we don’t know about this planet.”

“My point exactly,” Mr. Anderson grins. “Well I think you and I will get along smoothly then. That is all I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” Lucas fines it odd, as he rises from his seat, “Well then, I thank you for talking to me.”

Mr. Anderson waves him off, though when he speaks, his words sound like thunder and rocks crumbling from the earth.

Lucas turns to him and answers, “Thank you, have a good day.”

Mr. Anders smiles sweetly, “Not so fast…demon!”

Chapter 6

“I beg your pardon?” Lucas turns. He puts his hand in the pocket of his jeans, trying to ignore the searing pain.

“It hurts, doesn’t it,” Anderson gives a venomous smile, as he points to the door. “There is no chance of escaping, monster. The walls have been doused in holy water, water blessed by His Holiness himself.”

Touching the door again, the devil feels a jolt of pain rush up his arm, making him recoil. Sharp, Amber eyes glance over his shoulder back at the chemistry teacher, “You are no ordinary man. Who are you?”

He folds his hands as he leans on his desk, “Why don’t you come here and chat for a bit. There is something I want to show you.”

What is his ploy? Lucas grimaces at the offer, but walks over to the teacher’s desk nonetheless. He grabs a chair from under one of the student’s desks and takes a seat across from Anderson. Man and demon stare at one another for a time, Lucas looking deeply in the emerald gaze of this man. The pools of green seem to pulse, the shades shift when he looks elsewhere. On his side, Anderson reaches underneath his desk. Lucas can only hear the sound of one of the desk drawers opening and the sifting of papers as the teacher retrieves something. The gloved hand of the chemistry teacher sets a box on the table, one no bigger than the textbook the students use. It is completed made from wood with steel bands on the four corners to hold it together. A cross seems to have been burned on the lid.

“What is this?” Lucas asks.

“A special tool,” the teacher takes the lid of the box in hand and removes it. Inside is a dagger, cushioned with a foam mold to make sure the weapon is protected. The hilt is quite bland. Solid steel handle with a coil of silver that spirals all the way to the round pommel. A golden crucifix is forged directly into the cross guard. The blade is six inches long, the metal appears almost obsidian. Across the center of the blade, Lucas recognizes ancient Aramaic written in silver, translating to “In His Name”.

Lucas shrugs at the weapon, “I’m guessing this is meant to slay me.”

“Indeed, demon,” Anderson takes up the weapon. The point of the dagger rests against his finger as he twirls it, as if inspecting the blade for any nicks in edge. “This dagger has been passed down through my family for generations. Its steel forged using the nail that pierced our saviors’ hand. Christ’s blood is soaked in this blade. It is a blessed weapon unlike any other. Would you like to see how it feels thrust through your heart?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Ah, quite the smart hell-spawn,” Anderson says, setting the sacred dagger back in its box. “Now I have a few questions that I need to ask you. Will you comply?”

“I will, if you answer a few of mine,” Luca folds his arms, staring defiantly.

Anderson nods, “I can consent to that. Now, tell me why scum like you has risen from the hellish pits to our little town?”

“Naturally, I was summoned from the depths of Hell,” the devil smiles revealing the set of fangs. “Now it is my turn. Who are you really?”

The chemistry teacher smiles, “My name is Robert Anderson, age thirty-seven. I am a high school chemistry teacher. I also happen to come from a long line of demon slayers.”

“Ah, an exorcist,” Lucas seems to be enjoying the conversation. “Demons have told such tales of your kind. I have yet had the pleasure to see one for myself. It is an honor.”

The smile Anderson had fades, “Joke all you want, fiend. I will be sending you screaming back to Hell soon enough. But first, I want the name of the person who summoned you.”

“I can’t give it to you,” Lucas grins. “I don’t know their name.”

“I think you do. Give me the name, or I’ll make experience a fate worse than death.”

“My lips are sealed.”

All of a sudden, Anderson smiles, “Oh, how forgetful can I be? It was your cousin, Kiera Reins. I should have known. I always sensed something foul when it came to her parents.”

“What do you—,” Lucas asks, but scowls when he sees the look in Robert’s eye. “If you think I’ll let you harm her, then you are sorely mistaken.”

A quick motion of the hand and a flick of the wrist have the sacred dagger buried in the back of Lucas’ hand. The blade pierces through his flesh and pins his palm to the desk. Mr. Anderson sits back, waiting for the demon to start screaming, but is greeted with another surprise. From the wound, blue flames bleed out, crawling up the blade. The fire rises, dancing with sapphire embers snaking up the dagger. It spreads like wildfire, swallowing the air. The exorcist stumbles out of his chair when he sees the fire, backing up against the blackboard. Lucas stays motionless while the flames swarm around him.

“What is going on?” Anderson shouts, sweat forming around his brow. The embers lick his cheeks, causing him to wince.

Lucas looks up, his eyes ignited in a glowing gold. Then his hand reaches for the sacred dagger in his hand. Grabbing the hilt, he rips the holy weapon out of his hand, tossing it on the table. The flames that surround the devil seem to vanish once the weapon is removed. The wound lingers a bit longer, but it closes up, like a beast shutting its maw. When all things are settled, Lucas rises from his chair.

“Leave her alone,” Lucas says. His voice is cold and unforgiving. “I care not what threats you make upon me, but I will slaughter anyone who tries to harm her.”

He gets up to leave, walking to the door when Anderson calls out, “To come away unharmed after touching the sacred dagger. Just what kind of demon are you?”

Lucas gets back to the door where the barrier had stopped him before. This time, he reaches for the handle. It sends pain up his arm, but he ignores it. Sparks erupt from the handle as the blue flames return, spewing from his palm. Through sheer force of will, Lucas rips open the door. Just as he does, he can hear the bell wring overhead. Within seconds, students are pushing past him to get into the class. He looks back to see Mr. Anderson sliding the box containing the dagger back in his desk drawer. The chemistry teacher seems lost, beads of sweat tricking down the side of his face. His eyes are solely focused on the demon. Their eyes meet, and he can see the fury of Hell in Lucas’ gaze.

Lucas steps out into the hall.

Raviel the Phantom · January 25, 2016