"What's the difference between a King and a Peasant? Power, privilege, reward, title, resources. It is not a minor difference" ~Real Face

CHAPTER ONE:

A Wish for a Soul

The boy was running. Long and far he was. His knees were scrapped, blood pouring out of the small holes that were pierced with bits of rock. He panted heavily, trying to stay away from the men that were chasing him. He was running through the backstreets, rain pounded heavily from the night sky. Thunder and lightning accompanied the drops of rain. The moon glowed through the clouds despite this, giving him minimal amounts of light to help guide his way whenever the flashes of light refused to fall from the sky.

He ran to and fro, trying to escape the many pounding boots from close behind him. His entire body was shaking violently, whether it was out of fear or simply from being cold was undeterminable.

But he kept going, he couldn't stop. Eventually he came to multiple alleyways, and decided to dart into one of the random ones. He was glad that it hadn't snowed, they would be able to tell where he had gone. A group of men ran past him, he held his breath to make sure they didn't hear a peep. He stayed like this until he could no longer, and let out a desperate cry for the air he had tried so hard to keep away.

He caught his breath quickly, sitting there silently for a moment, before breaking down into a series of wails and cries. Cold tears streamed down the sides of his cheek, complementing the rain perfectly.

They had taken everything from him, everything but his life itself. His family was long gone now, mother and sister slaughtered after they watched their father be eaten alive by a bunch of rabid dogs. He was nineteen, barely out of highschool and just entering college. But his life was gone, how could he continue? He could never return home, these men would surely find him. He didn't understand what they wanted with his family. They were middle class, not too rich or too poor. If anything, they were just barely managing. They had no expensive jewelry of any sort, most of that was in the bank, safely stored away.

They had just decided to target his family for no reason, and torture them for their own personal entertainment. They broke into the house near midnight and stole them away. He remembered that scene. His father had been pistol whipped after trying to give them time to get out. His mother held onto the young and innocent twelve year-old Josie for dear life.

But it wasn't enough.

They were all gagged and bagged, thrown into an anonymous vehicle and driven to a mysterious warehouse. There they were tortured till near death. Their father stuck in until the end, never giving up and never stopping. But it was near impossible for a single man to fight off six hungry and rabid dogs while his hands were restrained.

The sight was terrifying, the screams and shrieks of pain that echoed throughout the empty warehouse. His sister had broken down in tears, mother doing the same. But he tried to stay as strong as he could, he had to. His chances of survival would dwindle if he didn't. After that they took their mother. She was brought down, placed next to the deceased body of her late-husband, and cut open. Organs of all sorts poured onto the floor, the stench twice as unbearable as before. She died slowly and painfully, lying in the puddle of her own blood.

The men laughed.

They cried.

Then Josie went down there.

He tried to stop them, tried to hold them back and make them take him instead. But they wouldn't. They took her and gave her the most painful and unbearable death. They brought out a large canister of boiling oil. Where they had gotten it he was unsure, he didn't want to know. They tied her up and lowered her into it by a rope.

Feet first.

Then legs.

Then torso.

So on and so forth. He tried to block out the cries for him. She was begging him to save her. But he couldn't. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to escape. So he fought against the bindings and the chains. He fought and fought until his wrists were bloody and he was near choking himself. But he still got out. His hands, wet with the crimson liquid slipped out of the weak bindings.

He removed the collar around his neck and ran the moment he was given a chance. Sprinted away without looking back. But he didn't get far without drawing attention to himself. Then he ended up in a chase, being trailed from close behind. Then he ran and hid like a coward. He didn't see himself doing much else. He just had to get away.

He wanted to die.

Why had he run? There was no point in life. He should've just let them do whatever they had planned, let them go through it. But he couldn't. He couldn't give them the enjoyment of doing such a thing. So he escaped. But now he couldn't do much else. His legs refused to work anymore, not taking him a step farther. He was stuck in that alleyway, covered in blood and traumatized for the rest of his life. He couldn't stop crying either. No matter what he did, he couldn't. He found himself rambling to himself.

"W-why did they have to die? I should of been the one to die... not them. I-I was so weak. Too weak. I should have been stronger and saved them. I'm such a f-fool." He continued to rant on and on. He didn't notice the piercing blue eyes staring at him from the shadows. The figure smiled and stared at him.

"Would you like to bring them back?" The boy froze in his spot, thinking he had been caught. He turned his head slowly behind him, and noticed the man standing not too far from his seat. A bolt of lightning flashed, just briefly making the face visible before fading away. Pointed teeth glistened.

"W-what?" He shook in his spot, scared. He didn't recognize him but he was still just as terrifying.

"I said," He stepped into the moonlight. "Mr. Ethan Wright, would you like to bring them back." His voice had a metallic echo to it, and added to the frightening appearance. The figure was large and tall, broad shoulders complimenting his leather jacket. There was a symbol on the front, it was religious, Ethan figured, but couldn't put his finger on it exactly. The man also had black hair with an odd curl sticking from his hairline. His eyes seemed to glow, as well as the wolf head the draped over his shoulder. A wolf pelt, still intact minus the flesh and bones that would normally be seen as a carpet or rug, was on his back and the feet dangling above the ground. Two horns came out of the side of his head, a pointed tail to pull it all together.

"How do you know my name?" Ethan asked, small amounts of courage in his voice. The other laughed and kneeled down to his height, placing a warm and shockingly comforting hand on his shoulder.

"That's not important. What is important is your wish." Ethan tried to avoid his eyes, but the light blue glow was alluring.

"M-my wish?"

"Yes your wish. I'll give you one wish... for a price." With the flick of a wrist a sheet of black paper appeared in his hand. Ethan's eyes glanced at it, amazed at how perfect the simple sheet seemed. It was a sulfur black color, white ink written across it in perfect cursive handwriting. It also appeared to be unaffected by the rain, something he didn't imagine was even possible.

"For the exchange of... your soul, I will bring three others back. Your family will return to this world and they will be safe and out of harms way." A ink and feather appeared in front of them. The white ink poured over the side of the small cup, the feather sitting next to it. They were both unaffected by the force of gravity, floating aimlessly in the air.

"Just sign here." He said, pointing a single finger at the thin line placed at the bottom of the page. The finger had a long, black nail that could easily be used as a claw. Ethan's mind was clouded, could this man truly bring back his family? It seemed impossible but... what did he have to lose? He shakily grabbed the quill and dipped it into the white ink. He raised his hand and placed the tip on the line. Slowly and carefully, he wrote out his name without reading the fine print as he should have. As he did, the man spoke.

"By signing this... your soul will be mine. And as a result, I can do anything I want with it." He finished the long signature and the piece of paper disappeared.

"Thank you for your cooperation. I will take your soul and your family will return. But they will forget you ever existed." Ethan's eyes widened as he realized what he had just signed.

"Wait what-" A black smoke like substance came out of the figure's right hand as a scythe began to form from the palm.

"W-what are you?" The other smiled.

"Just something that exists in hell."

With the swipe of an arm Ethan's chest was split open, the scythe's blade moving through his flesh and bones without hesitation. "Goodbye Ethan."