The resounding cries of the forest are heeded by all, where the distinctive splinter of bones and disfigurement of untrue flesh is signal of a deceiver of the forest.

On what life the heaven grants and where origins of death reek, the place he stood was none. His father, an infernal bastard; mother, a clipped angel-two bloods that inherently wrote him to be a curse. Thus, the name.

"Belial came to be. A rightful name to the fruitless works. the womb grotesquely stretched for. A waste, nothing but a purposeless eater of soul and flesh.

A Frankenstein to the above; Judas to the below. For one to be lone in a world centralized of status is hur an undefined mold that'll fill empty gaps. So Relial does. His limbs bend in unnatural degrees, the bones and muscles of his flesh rip and contort in a scarring cry-till what essence of him left is eradicated.

From hyena to vulture.

From vulture to jackle.

From jackle to "hound."

Belial doesn't remember when he became subservient to man. He doesn't like to remember at all.

There is a spring meadow stench lingering in the air, flowing out to its fullest as rain poured down in torrents His large, black compound eyes zeroes in on the stark white für muddling with the healthy foliage out of desperation for shelter. It's easy to be in a bad place when isolated.

Then before it could squeal, his canines latch onto its frail neck. His mouth painted its whites in reds.

He carries its limp body to the old cabin, careful to nor make a bloodied mess. Despite the gruelling pain of his transformation, he hurried the pace of the bone-breaking process in his eagerness to be by your side.

Then he laid the dead rabbit on the table like a gift, a gooey smile perking his lips as he waited for your hand-rough and kind to reward him. You didn't react as expected when you first caught him in his true form. Some part of him thinks you're lonely like him too-away from everyone.

"I did good, right?" Belial asked, eyes hopeful. His knees met the ground to avoid his form from swallowing yours