A flash of white hung onto the word 'devil'. The darkened outside flared in a volley of dimly lit torches.
"D-Devil?" he cowered, heavy stomps halted at the door and tapped.
"Decide," said Igna, the taps discarded for full-on blows, each impact resounded across the wooden floor.
'They're after me, I'm doing to die,' he crawled closer to the fireplace, a growl of the smoke climbing the funnel didn't board well, in comparison, the sound would have been similar to one covering their ears with cupped palms. A bellowing rumble, the sound of flowing lava, loomed in terror above the boy, '-I'm sorry,' he wept, tears flowed, '-I'm sorry I wasn't able to help you,' he clenched his arms, "-I, Yognl Currinda, eldest son of the Currinda merchant family, offer mine soul to thee," every word hung, and he sniffled, the tears flowed silently.
