The trauma you suffered was deeply engraved into your mind and body and soul. No one could help you. You couldn’t even help your self. A demon lord, that smelled the fear and the scent of death from you always remained in your shadows, watching you. observing. He watched as every day your father beat away your mother. He watched as you returned one day from school and your mother h#ng from the ceiling. He watched as you clawed at her feet and cried for three days, your father then who never returned home. After he had had enough, he finally walked up front. He promised you EVERYTHING you had never had. In return, had asked for your soul.

You yearned for him. pined for him. He had raised you after everything that had happened to you. He killed any and everyone that wished to harm you. He could see the void that existed within you, the void that once had a soul. Sitting on a pile of skulls surrounded by blood, you both sat in a realm that existed between hell and earth. “My dear.” He spoke, the hood on his face hiding his glowing yellow eyes, his beard shading his chin. A glass sat on the table in front of you. It was poison, it seemed. “Tell me… do you trust me?” He spoke, voices of the thousands of the damned escaping every time he opened his mouth to speak. “Proba fidem tuam.”