He knew I fled and would send his hounds to my trail—- I sensed it. My deceitful father was in ceaseless pursuit, I thought, halted only by the death of age, but when the new king inherited the task, I’d outrun him too. His pervasive influence would locate my whereabouts and end my existence almost anywhere on the continent, and I had to make him work hard for it. Nothing about it made sense however; if he wanted me dead, he should have killed me at birth like my brothers. But I was thankful. My father gave me an excuse to flee and be free; the kingdom did not want Anwar the “prince of impotence”, anyway. How embarrassing it could have been, however, if I died that night and provided what he desired..

  I traveled a great distance from the gothic Kingdom of Sundur; a powerful nation perched upon a perilous cliff, beaten by the Ancient Sea that enclosed the continent. In proximity a collective of small towns, cities, and farms, situated upon grassy knolls, twisting dirt and paved passages, and earth toned plots, all governed by my father and his council, and none particularly fond of their neighbors and rulers. Close South one of the greatest wonders in the world flared out and covered most of the region. Saralene Forest, the “dead forest”, was a natural border, like the ocean opposite, that secluded my old home from other Kingdoms. The dense growth held massive blueish green pine trees so close together you couldn’t fit a calf through sideways. With roots the size of my arm intertwined with thickets that could hide an army, the floor was near impassable. It felt abandoned, quiet, haunted. Not even the animals settled there. It was rarely traveled, except by the most protected, or quick. I trodden the desecrated forest for over a hundred miles on horseback and held my father’s ancient weapon for defense. Luck spawned a dirt path to tread and I followed it blindly, but I was not quick enough.

  Poor Hadie panted and whined as the grey sky dimmed. I peered up through the trees— a vague strand of light undulated behind a curtain of clouds like an innocuous tendril. We were almost there, but Hadie became clumsy and slowed significantly. He tripped and caught hold and tripped again, my chance of survival fading with every misstep and jerk. His head low, he came to a near halt and I begged him to continue.

  “We’re almost there! Don’t stop now!”

  Hadie tilted and I slipped from the saddle, landing tailbone first on thick roots that drew a shout. The guard of my Father’s sword dug into my ribs. Through pained eyes I watched as he shook and keeled over a deep thump. With desperate breathing he flailed trying to stand upright.

  After a minute, he settled on his pumping sides, breath shallow but rapid. A quiet shriek echoed in the forest. I searched frantically past looming trunks at figures that escaped my vision. I petted him while I darted every direction. Then another screech rang out behind me, distant but nearing. Fetching water and food, my attempt to revitalize the steed was met with futility. I cursed. With no more time to spare I unsheathed the sword, and loomed over Hadie, his black coat glistening from sweat. I lined the sword with the bottom of his jaw and peered into his eyes. Eyes closed, a lift, a heavy down swing, and I hacked into his neck once. Blood sprayed onto my black leather jacket and face. I stole a look at the eviscerated horse and hacked once more to remove its head. He was still.

  “Forgive me. They will not steal you.”

  My hands shook as I removed two saddle bags and they struck the forest floor. I rifled through them and unloaded most of the contents in to my jacket pockets: a sack of precious jewels and jewelry, a silver Sol dial, my comm pad, a pack of colorful flint wheel lighters, an off-brand pouch of salted mixed nuts, and a golden seal of Sundur, used primarily for the stamping of royal documents. Hooked to a d-ring was a portable oil lantern that wouldn’t unlatch immediately, but when it did, I rushed southeast in hopes of a reprieve. Darkness came soon, and I had yet to see as much as a silhouette of a structure.

  When I found the rest point it was nearly dark. I waved my hand over the lantern. Its blinding light illuminated dead pines and brush within ten meters; a symptom of the coming night. Hissing and cursing emanated close behind that sent pins up my spine. A potent smell of rot stung my nostrils and caused an involuntary wince. There was a clearing in the forest and a much wider dirt path; along it a grey two-story wooden edifice.

  I shouldered its door without budge. I set the lantern on the porch and turned back to the night. There were more Demons out now, and I could see their shadows against the stars and moonlight, along the edges of lantern light. My mother, or a woman who named herself my mother, called for succor through the bedlam. I slammed a closed fist into the door. “Help! Is anyone there? Please, I’m human!” The Demons mocked me, sounded just like me. They obfuscated my plea and turned me into one of them; from behind and above my own voice emanated things I never said in ways I would.

  “I know someone is there, you can save me before the pitch!” I heard nothing. “Damn it, if you don’t open the door right now you’ll be persecuted!” Night came. The black swallowed the continent. It cautiously subdued the light of my temporary haven, and the Demons advanced. When the last vestige of the Veil departed, the tip of its golden appendage waving goodbye in space, realms collided and through the rupture, evil prospered. No longer could the true denizens of the world wander safely, and the assault against humanity proceeded.

  My back was against a wall, sword readied at hidden fiends, and chances of survival at the minimum. Four— no, five bloodshot pairs of eyes reflected my light like stalking wolves. Madness begun to set, a sharp ache jolted my brain and I ducked shouting to acute pain.

  “Son of Barak, I’ve found you,” echoed in my mind.

  The porch burst into view! Flood lights fastened along the edge of the roof shone on a handful of Demons. I witnessed their horned pale bodies green or burgundy and fanged contorted muzzles retreat like roaches. The door cracked and I shoved it open, squeezing inside and nearly falling over. Two men deadbolted, barricaded, and sealed it shut behind me. I faced them with my sword out front.

  One man wore a white apron and black slacks; tall, bald, and muscular. He had his hands up and slowly shuffled to my left. The other looked older and was about the same height, around six feet, with short hair a mixture of browns and greys. He wore a white t-shirt, blue jeans and brown working boots; he approached me from the front carefully. I looked around and there were several others sitting round tables spectating as my back hit the edge of a bar.

  The older one tried to talk me down. “Don’t worry kid, we’re not going to harm you, we just saved you. You can put the sword away.”

  “Then tell your man to stop moving!”

  “John.”

  The bald one nodded and stopped. Behind the door unnatural noises increased in volume.

  “What took you so long to open the door,” I said as I lowered the sword.

  “Listen, we can talk. You’re freaking me out with that sword. Stow it, would ya?”

  “How do I know I can—”

  A faint footfall perked my reflexes. Sword in my right, I swung it quickly and it whistled. I held it steady before it could bite the neck of an ambusher. He held his chin up and slowly raised his hands, looking down his nose. The corners of his lips rose, and thereafter a tinge of irritation struck me. With a deep exhale, I lowered and scabbed my sword.

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  “My apologies. The Lessers almost drove me to madness out there.”

  “We understand. Happens.” John said as he turned to the man beside him.

  “Never seen you before kid. What’s your name?” the man said.

  “Anwar.”

  “Arch. Sorry it took so long to get you in here, it’s been a while since we’ve had a late visitor. You’re a long way from the civilization kid, how’d you get here?” he said.

  Deep at the other edge of the continent lied plains and stillness; only cool breeze, lakes, and light groupings of trees to keep company. Peacefulness was my goal, imminent and pervasive. It set in mind.

  “I traveled from the North. I’m making for family in Paxton. I can pay for my stay.”

  Arch folded his arms. “How do you plan on paying? That is, if we have room for you.”

  “Here…” I dug into my jacket, the sack of jewels beneath my compass and comm pad. It clinked softly, the jewels and gold trinkets within rubbing together as I searched inside. A single ruby, misty as if within it a trapped thundercloud, reflected dull light along its facets and fit tall in the palm of my hand. It belonged to my family, my father. His treasury held exorbitant jewelry and he wouldn’t notice— not over the theft of his weapon. John’s eyes gleamed, and Arch speculated. Behind the bar a hand stretched by my side. I stepped forward and turned around.

  “I see you’d like your fingers severed.”

  “Roger take a hike. What are you doing behind the bar anyway?” John said.

  “That ruby will pay for my stay too, right?” he chuckled.

  “It will not,” I said.

  Arch paused, allowing Roger to step away, and spoke thoughtfully. “It may not pay for your stay either.”

  “How could it not? You could not find something as this anywhere! I could buy your rest point with this, and a dozen more perhaps!”

  “Yeah, and so where did you get it from?”

  “My father is a wealthy man.”

  “Then your father should’ve got you a taxi.”

  I grinded my teeth to his nerve. How dare he speak to me that way, I thought, as if a child. I’d have him jailed for a year had this been in the kingdom, had I not been on the run. Telling them about my bloodline, my predicament, was not in my best interest, so I resisted the argument. I stowed the ruby. “What then, you’ll send me back out?”

  “Can we check you?”

  He nodded towards the front door. Engraved into the wood floor and directly above in the ceiling lied a familiar ward. Three interlocking circles filled them, and within three large spaces, three primordial signs. What bordered it was the language of the First Witnesses, done most likely by a high priest, and lethal. I had scrambled over it upon entry.

  “You aren’t the first to show up late. We won’t put you out. I just want the peace of mind.”

  “Peace of mind will not come to you this way, but I’ll stand on it.”

  I relaxed. It was a rest point, and within were travelers, I told myself. Some were in formal attire, and others dressed down for the night, on tall stools at tables high and round, some bearing half-filled glasses and others dirtied plates. It smelled of pine and beer and freshly cooked meats. There was a swinging door next to a deep sink in the bar and over the curved opening I could see pots and pans hanging from racks. Fluorescent lights hummed and wires mounted to the ceiling sprawled out and gathered into a metal box situated on the wall where the bar terminated, proving that this edifice ran on an old mode of power. The detection ward should have been enough to calm my nerves; the both cautious and surprised people within too.

  John was the cook, and Arch, the owner. I didn’t know what Roger was. I stood on the ward.

  “Just wait a minute,” Arch said.

  Knowing nothing would happen, I complied, and nothing did happen. The spotlight was on me, even the outside quieted.

  Arch shooed me from the ward and stepped in himself. The engravings lit up at about thirty seconds, encapsulating him in a soft cone of opaque light, gradually brightening. He looked at me carefully, and beckoned me to step back on it. I did and nothing changed again.

  “Is he a possessed or somethin’?” An elderly woman, dressed in a navy-blue suit and beige sunhat wrapped by a blue bow, sipped on a drink embellished with a pink umbrella.

  “Can’t be,” Arch said. “You knew this would happen. What’s wrong with you then?”

  “I was born that way.”

  “That boy has a familiar name. Looks familiar too…” the woman said to another beside her. “He’s got a funny accent.”

  Arch pressed between his eyes in response.

  “The Lessers will keep us up all night now. Guess we’ll be on a full watch rotation tonight,” John said.

  “Mhmm,” Arch replied.

  “Oh Roger!” A worried woman pale and thin both in hair and body, wearing a pink night gown, cried hysterically as she descended the steps. She held the railing tight and limped to his side, holding him like he had been long lost. They whispered to each other, although Roger seemed dismissive.

  “We’re not going to throw you out Anwar, but I can’t let you sleep here with weapons. Everyone else has to put them up and that includes you,” Arch said.

  “I understand you are allowing me to stay, and I’m grateful. I cannot hand over the sword. It would be best to let that conversation die.”

  “Listen buddy, you came here late and put everyone at risk! Least you can do is follow the rules,” Arch said.

  “Where will I be staying?”

  “He’s not staying upstairs with us!” said the woman in blue. A few of the other guests agreed.

  “You will have to be confined for the night, in the basement. You didn’t light the detward and that puts everyone on edge. This a safe haven, Anwar.”

  “Then in the morning, my sword will be returned?”

  “You have my word; it will be returned to you.”

  Reluctantly, I started unbuckling my sword. “Fine.”

  “Listen kid, you’ll be safe; it’s a free night’s stay and we’ll get you food; John is a great cook. You can stay up here while we get the basement spruced up with a bed. We’ll take care of your car too if it’s intact after tonight; there’s an underearth garage just up the path. Plus, if you’re not afflicted with anything…”

  It was my first time outside of the castle walls without an appointed guard or my father. I didn’t have any choices. Finding out my bloodline would cause danger to us all, and one familiar eye upon my father’s sword would raise suspicion; they would send me back, I thought, or we were all dead together. The chaotic noise resumed and penetrated the walls, coming to a crescendo. I didn’t realize he was still talking.

  “Hello? You do have a vehicle, right?”

  “A vehicle?”

  A violent force impaled the Inn that hurled those closest to the stairs off their chairs and feet. Wooden hail mixed with a dark substance burst from the rupture. I flinched and fell flat, gazing at gaping hole with terror. Screams rang throughout. Arch hollered through the calamity. People fled as I rose to my feet, the hairs of my skin lifted. About the edge of the breach peaked in an unmoving horned head so black that it appeared juxtaposed, and clamping onto the inside a dozen human, wild, eviscerated hands. It said hello in an unnaturally low and distorted tone while it smoked from the light, its two yellow beady eyes shuddering and fixed upon me. After unsheathing my sword, I shuffled as far outside the wicked intruder reach as possible and slid on slippery hide. A scattering of fragmented wood from the entrance wall, tables, and chairs covered the floor; innards, dark flesh, splats of blood and bits painted the bar. Warmth whirled round from the breach. My heart sank. There was an animal leg lodged into shelving, a snout half-eaten against a fallen chair, a quarter of body crushed the center of the bar, and a hoof lodged into the wall.

  In a short hallway beside the bar was the basement, and past that, the kitchen. Shuffling frantically to the back I took hold of the handle, shaking it as panic ruled my body. I faced the black hole where monstrous clamor emanated and the darkness spiraled, subtly turning red the longer I stared. Out poured a familiar warmth, an inviting sense of safety, a sense of home, that which my pursuit of peace led. I felt myself wanting to enter; that I would be foolish not to. For all I wanted and would ever want lied before me.

  A guest crossed the opening of the hallway, his long and muddied hair draped over his face. He was topless and in ripped soiled jeans, head down and mumbling. As if strolling through a park or walking along a beach, the guest passed the gap without a glance, unlocked the front door, and exited. Quickly I fled to the kitchen. The useless swinging door swung once and I secured it. Although well lit, to be safe I waved my lantern on. I sat on the floor where two counters met, sword beside, and shook uncontrollably.

  “The darkness is the master of night, the oppressed light as shadows in the day. Be that you see day, count yourself blessed by the Ruler of the veil, and prepare for the night again,” I repeated.

  The restless night left no room for recovery and garnered unpleasantries. I would drift off for a moment and hear “Hey” and awake to the brief sight of a blackened figure absconding. Again I would fall asleep and a piece of flesh or a limb landed nearby, shocking me awake for another hour until I couldn’t stay awake any longer. Often I heard footfalls retreat from the hall out to the front, and fear would keep me alert. They toyed and toyed. Without the artificial lighting, I would have died.

  “Wake up.”

  “Not a scratch,” John said.

  I gasped out of my stupor and looked up at him with dread. I sighed and my head fell. The lights were off, but daylight poured in from the front.