Night falls on the town of Provokopjus, the clouds covering the purple moon from announcing its presence. Some still mutter their prayers, only stopping when darkness is forcefully brought upon them. Before the temple stands a young boy, shivering. Yet continuing to wait, ignoring the elder priestess's offer of accommodation or food.
"Are you waiting on someone?" A pink-haired man carrying a bow asks the young boy.
"I am… I guess." The boy replies as he looks at the sky, a frown appearing on his face.
"Don't stay out too long." The man says as he walks past, playing with his necklace.
Standing in front of the temple, the boy sits down. His body forming a small ball as he continuously shifts his gaze between the forest and the sky.
'Was he playing a joke on me? Am I being stupid?' The boy wonders, continuing to sit her alone. The silence gives him the chance to recall memories. The laughter… And the bloodied screams.
The purple moon "Pyetar" breaks through the clouds, its soft light falling on the child. Giving a violet glint on his wet clothes and shivering weak arms. The child looks back to the moon, listening to its soft music.
"It's not too late to walk away." The man with emerald eyes says, darkness following his step. Pyetar's faint light not reaching him.
"I won't… I was just listening to the song." The boy replies as he continues to stare at the moon.
"What song?"
"Pyetar's song or rather I guess the song it chooses. When you look into it when the light falls a melody plays in your head. My mother told me it's the moon singing a song for all those alone, showing them that someone cares. My uncle said that they were moon nymphs singing for the soldiers as they march." Secessus turns to look at the moon, its light landing on his dark aura. Dispelling the aura, a small song plays in his head. A wordless song, not sung by any voice. Rather it's a mixture of sounds, children laughing, waves crashing, and a ball bouncing around. Each sound evokes a sense of familiarity, the shade demon's hearth warming up as he continues to listen.
"Are you alright?" The boy asks as he sees the man before him completely taken. A single tear dripped from his left eye.
"It's quite pretty… Have you changed your mind?" Secessus recasts his dark cloak, walking closer to the young boy.
"What do I have to do? To earn it?" The boy looks at the green-colored eyes, the only sign of humanity left in the figure.
"You abandon everything. Your life, your future even the afterlife promised to you. Everything you can imagine… just to be able to kill." Secessus holds out his hand, the surrounding darkness makes it seems otherworldly.
"Will… Will I ever see them again?" The boy asks still staring at the emerald eyes as he slowly reaches his hand out.
"No." Secessus replies, making the boy's hand halt. Before it continues its path, clasping the darkness-engulfed hands of the stranger.
"But I will get to kill him?" The boy's eyes show the same venom from earlier, one unsuited to pray to the gods.
"If you're lucky." Secessus replies dragging the boy out of town. Both their figures are shaded in darkness.
They walk past the natural border between the village and the forest, the natural vegetation serving multiple purposes. Sticks crack underneath their feet as they continue forward, never turning back.
The boy's breath grows heavier whilst his body continues to shiver, the unknown figure continuing to pull him deeper. His legs shake before he falls down. Lying on the ground insects make their way to the still child.
"Do you still wish to continue?" Secessus asks, mixing in with the dark forest. The rooftop of leaves blocked out the purple moonlight. The boy stands up, gritting his teeth. The darkness and silence are almost dreamlike, only the breaking of twigs and the pain he feels make him realize this is reality.
Still carrying that seemingly hopeless wish, the boy stands up. Searching the reached-out hand of the figure, hitting his hand against a trunk. Causing the weak, white hand to bruise easily. Still, he reaches over clasping the hand that promises his vengeance.
Maybe the hand he holds is lying, maybe what the man promises is a curse rather than a blessing. The boy doesn't know or rather doesn't want to know. The days after the looting of his village have been the worst of his short life. Even worse was the small hope he had when he got struck down by a fever, potentially ending these lifeless days. Asariel perhaps offering him the chance to rejoin those he lost. But it never happened, he healed, survived.
Just to live another nightmarish day. Vengeance, the only thing that kept the boy sane.
"We're here." The voice of his guide says or rather it felt like the darkness around him spoke in his stead. The boy looks, his eyes widening at the grotesque sight before him.
Corpses of multiple animals lie absolutely desecrated. Foxes carved open, boars beaten to death, squirrels burned nearly beyond recognition. All their blood slowly streaming toward the same place. The lines of blood are intricate and thick, a rune of animalistic blood on the ground. In the center of that rune is a hole. A hole resembling the size and shape of a grave perfectly dug up. The rectangular-shaped hole filled with blood, the scent overwhelming the boy. Memories of his mother's blood staining his shirt forcefully making their way to his mind.
Still, the man with a dark aura guides him closer. Pulling him next to the grave, ignoring the boy's small dribbles of vomit escaping his mouth.
"Last chance, do you truly wish to continue?" The emerald green eyes face the young boy, not stern rather the eyes are just like when the man gazed at "Pyetar".
"Yes." The boy replies softly, nearly whispering.
Secessus grabs the child and looks him in the eyes. Putting his forehead against that of the small feeble being.
"What's your name?" Secessus asks.
"Isaac."
Secessus drops the child, writing his name on the ground as blood comes from under his nails. Filling the new words with another source of blood.
"Good luck." He utters before grabbing the child by its head and throwing him in the grave filled with blood. Keeping the child forcefully under.