If only memories could go up in flames as easily as a person's soul, fire turning existence to ashes and melting away all sense of being. Night after night, a terrible nightmare crept to the forefront of his unconscious mind, and so, again and again, he was forced to relive the moments that scarred him more severely than any burn wound ever could; even Hell could not offer Ciel Phantomhive any greater agony or grief than he had already been unfortunate enough to experience, and beneath the light of the moon, he could not escape the ghastly reality that he called his life.

The nightmare was always the same—a child's smile being replaced with screams of horror and sorrow as he came upon an unexpected birthday present; yes, the Earl of Phantomhive stumbled into the scene of his parents' murder, their crimson blood adding a pop of color to the otherwise drab estate. Crumbling under the weight of the event, he ran until he bumped into Tanaka, the family butler, who urged him to escape. Before Ciel could find the composure to make his way out of the blood-stained mansion, Tanaka was attacked and the young master was stolen from the one place he knew as home.

The dream never ended at the kidnapping. Although each time that Ciel had the nightmare, he wished to wake up—to end the cycle of suffering that his subconscious mind forced him to endure almost every night—he could not. He never found himself back in the real world until after he was reminded of every gory, graphic detail of the occurrence that plunged him into the chaotic depths of darkness; he was made to be a sacrificial piece in other people's twisted games, but in the moment that should have been his death, he found the resolve to live for revenge and no longer allow himself to be a mere pawn.

As death drew nearer to Ciel, its cold fingertips grazing his fragile frame, he called out into the darkness and heard an echo emerge from somewhere within the fires of hell. A savior reached out to him, offering him salvation in the form of a contract, and he clung tightly to the hand that would deliver him from one hell and eventually lead him into another. His pitiful cries reached the ears of a demon, and in return for his soul, the creature promised to aid him in exacting the revenge he craved against the people who ripped all innocence and light from his life. Ciel's heart did not falter as he bound himself to the beast, and in the blink of an eye, he went from being a pawn to being the king of his own game.

"Sebastian!" the Earl of Phantomhive screamed, bestowing a new name upon the demon that would act as his servant until the day that the contract was fulfilled and his soul was devoured. With newfound determination, he ordered the creature to paint the room red with the blood of those who had humiliated and violated him; he despised the color, but no other shade could have represented his hatred as well.

Once the bodies of his captors laid limp and tinted crimson at his feet, Ciel would awaken, panting and distressed. Coming out of the nightmare never seemed to rid him of the agonizing feelings it created. This was the reality of Ciel Phantomhive—an existence soaked in blood, darkness, and sorrow; the Faustian Contract etched into his eye was proof enough of his tainted life, and some day, it would be the bond that brought an end to it. Though he would not dare to speak the words aloud—he would not allow anyone to see his resolve waver, not even in the slightest—he welcomed the thought of his soul being scorched to nothing in the pits of hell because, maybe then, the nightmares would finally come to an end.

His eyes shot open, yet he was still steeped in darkness. The moon hid its face from the world below, leaving only the light from the distant twinkling stars to illuminate the night. Many nights, this was Ciel's routine—awaking from a dream to realize that the horrible feelings had not faded with the images driving him to near insanity while he slept—but the worst of those occurred when the moon offered no escape from the blackness that consumed the land. In those instances, the young master could not distinguish what reality he was facing; was it his memories or was it his present?

Ciel fumbled around in the darkness, desperate to find his way out of the maze of thoughts that plagued him. A voice coming from the direction of his bedroom door pulled him from his frantic state and stilled his trembling body.

"My Lord, is everything alright?"

"Oh, Sebastian. It's only you. Yes, everything is quite fine," the Earl of Phantomhive lied. In his mind, it would be in bad form for the prey to show weakness to the predator, and demons were no more than hunters—beasts scavenging for lost souls in order to devour them.

"I get the strange feeling that you are not being entirely honest with me, young master."

In the darkness, it was difficult to discern, but Ciel believed he could make out a slight grin on Sebastian's face, as if he were enjoying his distress. "You are becoming too bold for my taste. Do not question the sincerity of my words."

"Of course, my Lord. My apologies." Although the remark flowed effortlessly from Sebastian's lips, the young master could not hear the weight of sincerity in his voice; his words were hollow, but this came as no surprise. It was not in his nature to feel true regret or shame, love or adoration, hatred or envy…No, he existed at this time merely to follow orders until the contract was fulfilled. "If you are certain that you do not need anything of me, I will excuse myself so that you may get back to resting."

"Wait, Sebastian!" The command escaped from Ciel's mouth before he could clench his jaw shut. He yearned for a companion in the darkness; it was a childish desire that he wished to extinguish—a shameful reminder that he could still be influenced by fear and loneliness.

"What is it, my Lord?"

Ashamed, the Earl of Phantomhive racked his brain for a suitable explanation that could justify his outburst, but under the intense gaze of the butler, he could not find the excuse he so desperately sought after. "It's nothing; nevermind. Go on about your business."

The young master swiftly turned his back to the demon in an eager attempt to preserve whatever sliver of pride still rested within him, but he quickly noted that the door had not been opened upon him giving his new command. Peeking over his shoulder, he was startled to be met by the sight of Sebastian hovering over him to the side of his bed, his demonic red eyes seeming to reflect nonexistent light. "What in the devil are you doing?" Ciel questioned as sternly as he could muster.

"Why, you instructed me to 'go on about my business', master. As I have already attended to my nightly responsibilities, the sole duty remaining is for me to see to your safety and comfort." At finishing his speech, Sebastian bowed slightly in respect, although the display did not appear to be entirely genuine.

"Yes, well, see to that from elsewhere. Your presence makes me uneasy. I do hope that you understand, being as you fully intend to devour my soul in the near future."

"I will not deny my intentions, my Lord; however, you should not worry for your safety for the time-being. I make a habit of ensuring that my dinner is well cooked and properly seasoned before consuming it. You have not yet reached your full potential just as I have not fulfilled my end of the contract. Therefore, I am a mere servant, unable to move freely without your direct consent."

Ciel scoffed at the forwardness that his companion demonstrated. Though the words he spoke were ripe with the truth, the mischievous motives behind why he spoke them left them rotten. "Hmph. Do as you please. I am going back to bed; do not disturb me any further."

The Earl of Phantomhive allowed his eyes to slide shut and more blackness engulfed his vision. He could feel Sebastian at his back, ravenous with hunger. What a pitiful sight, Ciel thought to himself. He must be at his wits end, seeing his prey utterly vulnerable but knowing that he cannot yet go in for the kill. But then, I have little room to criticize; I may be even more pitiful. To think that I have stooped so low as to rely on the presence of a demon for a less tortured sleep is almost laughable.

Ciel gripped tightly to his bedsheet, revolted by his immature wants. No future awaited him; he was bound to Hell by chains that he could never hope to break free from. What weight could dark nights possibly hold over an eternity amongst flames? His soul being ripped apart by the teeth of a creature of the underworld and tossed into the pits of an inferno did not faze him; death would mean the end of his game, and this fact did not torture him. He simply wished to be the last piece standing. Yet, despite all else, the darkness he dwelled in had become his greatest ally and enemy, and within it, he both cowered and thrived.

None of it mattered—not the sleepless nights, not the relationships he created, not the pain that shook him to his very core…None of it. All that mattered was his revenge, and in the end, he was sure the darkness would dispel as everything went up in flames.