text: The night was cold. Silvery moonlight washed over ground that was covered in the first snowfall of the season. It felt like ages since Hadeon had last enjoyed the snow, even though it had only been a year. Time felt like it had stretched longer in the depths of the church’s crypt. He glanced around at the hills he roamed as a child, hanging off his mother’s skirts and helping her gather the herbs and wildflowers that bloomed. Nothing grew now, for winter’s bite had killed many of the plants, and the snow hid the ground from view. It looked so different, so bare under the full moon. A night his mother would have loved. Yet it wasn’t the time of year he was prepared for. Any sane person would be in their homes, keeping warm by the fires in their hearths. Hadeon, however, didn’t have that luxury. His clothes were threadbare and torn, his feet bare. There had been no time to hunt down proper clothes or shoes. No time to figure out how the bodies had gotten on the floor or how the crypt door had been blown off its hinges. Hadeon ran over the hills, numb feet kicking up the snow. His goal was to reach the river. If he could just reach the river, he could find his way to the ruins of his home. If there was even the slightest chance that the flames hadn’t devoured the whole house, he could find something to help him, he was sure of it. There had to be. Run, run, little rabbit. A chill racked his spine as the voice filled his mind. Panic rose in his throat as his feet pushed himself forward. He had to get home. Had to find a way to rid himself of the voices. Topping a rise, he saw the White Rapids. Even in the freezing temperatures, the water churned in rushing torrents, making the river virtually uncrossable. In the moonlight, he could see the spray of water as it crashed against rocks and riverbanks alike. There was one spot that gave brave, and desperate, travelers a passage over the watery beast. His eyes traveled upriver until he saw it. The boy let out a soft cry of relief to see the rope bridge still standing. He had been afraid the town guards had burned it. You’ll never make it. There was movement to his right, but when Hadeon turned his head to look, there was nothing. He was alone, but he wouldn’t be for long. Holding his breath, his ears strained to hear if the warning bells were ringing yet. All that he could hear was his own heartbeat and the distant rapids. Good, he still had time. He could still make it. Another shadow crossed his vision, this time from the hill he had just come from. Wolves were common in the area, so the boy turned to be sure he wasn’t about to have a new problem on his hands. He was being stalked all right, but not from wolves. Standing on the hilltop was a silhouette. Man, he knew not. All he knew was someone was there, too close behind for comfort. Fear choked him, making him stumble as he quickly turned back around and dashed towards the bridge. He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t... You’ll never go back. You’ll be safe. His best hope was his home. He could rid himself of the voices in his head as soon as he reached the safety of those four walls. He could... Hadeon felt a force barreling into him. A yelp broke the silent night air as he was sent tumbling the rest of the way down the hill. The fall sent a flare of pain throughout his body, awakening old injuries that his adrenaline rush had helped to numb. Get up, he told himself. Get up, get up, get up! He scrambled to find his footing once more, but as soon as he had his feet under him, the force knocked him back down again. No! A sob tore from his throat. He was so close! If he just had a few more minutes, he would have been free, safe in the wilds of the forest once more. “You have the determination, little rabbit, I’ll give you that.” This time the voice was not in his head. This time, Hadeon heard the shifting voice behind him. Pushing himself upright, he scrambled away, trying to keep some space between him and the person hunting him. If “person” was the correct term to call it. The figure was human in form, for the most part. The creature was night itself with shadowy tendrils waving about it, making its form hard to distinguish. Pitch black, it was as if the creature swallowed the moonbeams and made the surroundings grow darker. As it stalked closer, Hadeon could see the details of arms and legs, the outline of shoulders. Yet that was where all human resemblances stopped. For when he searched for a face, all he was met with was two spots that flickered with candlelight. It was then he realized that this was not the first time he had seen those eyes. He remembered seeing those glowing orbs watching him from a darkened corner of the crypt when he awoke to find his captors dead. They had been what encouraged him to take advantage of the escape that presented itself. “What... What do you want from m-me?” Hadeon stuttered, both from fear and the cold sinking into his skin. A deep chuckle rumbled from the shadow. “I believe the question is: What do you want from me ?” “I don’t know what you’re t-talking about.” “Oh, I believe you do.” The figure continued forward, crouching down in front of the boy. Its eyes roamed over all of him. “A witch’s son, pushed to the point of breaking, finally calling forth his birthright. You’ve just never had the chance to use me until now.” “But I haven’t-” Hadeon started. “Were you not the one begging for the dark to take you? For someone to end the torture the church bestowed upon you?” Hadeon felt his heart sink. He had, but they were just thoughts. He hadn’t said any sort of spell, hadn’t made any kind of deals. His mother had warned him that such spells were dangerous. Demons were tricky creatures, and it was best to leave them to their own devices. “The help you were given was with you the whole time. You just had to open your ears to hear it.” We are one in the same, after all. Hadeon flinched back as the voice spoke inside his head, but it was no longer the distorted rasp he was used to. Instead, it sounded like a mimic of his own, and as he watched the figure, he could have sworn the shadows warped into an imitation of his own face. He shivered at the thought. “I-I don’t want your help,” he stated, putting as much conviction into his words as he could. “You don’t get that choice, rabbit,” the figure replied. A flash of a grin broke the shadows. “I’m here to stay. I have always been here. You just finally awakened to my presence.” “I don’t need any h-help from you, demon,” Hadeon said. “Oh? Then perhaps I can let the search parties find you in the morning, holed up in the charred remains of your mother’s home. They can take you back to that cell, or perhaps finally hang you on Sunday for the murder of the clergy men in charge of you.” The figure stood and turned as if to leave. “You left a noticeable trail, and you’re far too weak to put up much of a fight. I’m sure you’ll make it a good five minutes before you’re bound and dragged back to the hell you came from. It makes no difference to me.” “No!” Hadeon couldn’t stop the protest from leaving his lips. He couldn’t go back to the dark cell, to the torment and starvation, to the scorn of being a “devil’s spawn.” There were monsters among those who claimed themselves holy, and he had experienced it all within his long year in their hands. Anything that the demon promised had to be better than the fate waiting for him back in town. The shadow turned its glowing gaze back towards him, and Hadeon could have sworn he saw a smug expression in their depths. “I thought that would be the case,” it said. Once again, it came to loom over the boy, making him swallow nervously. “Do not worry. There is no more need to cower from the shadows. They belong to you.”