Young Writers Society

~{Prologue}~

­October 13, 1866

New Orleans, Louisiana

Damon Jasperlin could feel the intense heat and smell the nauseating stench of burning flesh emitting from the demon, reflected as fear in his unnaturally green eyes. He had heard of these beasts before, but now coming face to face with one was making him light headed with disbelief and uncertainty.

“Io ti ammazzo,” the demon hissed. “Sarà masterizzare la vostra carne e uccidere tua madre troppo se voi non mi danno il libro di Azrael."

Damon, terrified, reached for the closest thing to him -a broken shard of glass- and made a feeble attempt of throwing it at the demon. It flared, becoming twice the size it already was, which was hardly distinguishable as the demon blended in with the flames that consumed the house. As it hissed, fire flickered towards Damon and the flames caught.

The demon snarled and hissed as Damon crawled away, flames nearly engulfing his trousers and shirt. Crawling around the kitchen table, Damon saw the vague outline of his mother through the black smoke. She lay motionless, not even the steady rise and fall -if there was one- of her breath could be seen.

“Mother,” Damon called out.

“Damon,” Damon shuffled over to his mother. Her face was nearly black with smoke and soot, her lips dry and parted. The words she spoke were barely audible. “Damon, you must leave. Find the Adelight- they will protect you.”

Damon nodded. He knew who the Adelight were. His father had been one of them, a knight of the Spellcasters, when he had still been alive.

“Damon, leave me here, you must,” his mother said, pushing his grasping hands away. “I love you Damon. Now run or die.”

Damon took hold of his mother’s hands, cringing at the pain of the flames licking at his back. “I would rather die here with you, Mother.”

“Go Damon,” his mother said, the dry heat evaporating her tears. “You must uphold our family name. You are all that we have left.”

“I will always remember you Mother.” He rested his head on her chest. Her heart beat rapidly for a moment before glowing a bright blue which passed into Damon’s own chest. Not paying much attention to the alteration of light between their hearts, he closed the lids over his mother’s departed eyes.

With as much strength as he could gather he ran, not looking back at his mother’s corpse. Darting through the house, avoiding collapsing rafters of the cottage roof, he searched frantically for a door. It was a maze of smoldering furniture and sentimental trinkets he had grown up with for the fourteen years of his life.

“Sciocco, io farò vi maledicono ora che tua madre è morta. Ha tenuto tutta la conoscenza del libro di Azrael. Ora lei passa a voi. Ora si deve vivere l'eternità come un immortale e soffrire il prezzo del sangue demone.”

Damon looked wide eyed at the demon who spit and flickered its flames at him. The language which it spoke was nothing he could comprehend, though his father had spoken fluently years ago when still alive.

“I don’t understand,” Damon cried. He back away from the demon, but bumped into a wall.

“I have cursed you child,” the demon hissed after great pause. “You will suffer just like all demons do. You will live the life of one, orders from the King of Demons.”

“I will not let you,” Damon screamed, fighting free of the flames that began to swarm around him.

“It is too late boy,” the demon began to whirl around him like a maelstrom. “You will forever be my host, for eternity to come. It would safer for you to be with me, than the Adelight, boy! The King of Demons has now declared war.”

~