The two were now the only ones left. How fitting for them to be leaving the world as they entered it – together. Of course, this would not exactly be the case, just as in the beginning. One would have to be first, and the other second.

The amphitheatre began to fill with light and a series of now-familiar murmurs and shuffles signalled the ritual's start. The march had begun: a procession of the ruthless, powerful and monstrous, all carefully cloaked for the night's exercise in savagery.

The boys in the cage paid no mind, even though they knew very well what was to come (or perhaps because of it). The first stared at the second, and the second stared at the ground. How quickly their world had been swept from under them. Now no hope presented itself, and while they shared the same degree of anguish, it was mostly for different reasons.

A voice began to boom, as loud as thunder and as sharp as nails, commanding the attention of every soul in the room, save for two. Tonight was the night, the man promised, when all of their waiting and pleading and sacrificing would pay off. On this very night, the offering given would be so impressive that the hound of hell they all seek to control would have no choice but to grace them with its presence. All of the blood that was spilt and the effort they had expended would pay off with this glorious final act. He paused as the auditorium bristled with excited rumbles and cackles of glee.

In the cage, the small one stirred, feeling strangely calm. Soon it would be over, he knew. The second would be first for perhaps the only time, as his lifelong companion would be left for the impeccable denouement. They both acknowledged this hideous truth. He slowly lifted his head to see his brother's eyes lock with his, and for the first time since they were very young, the older one was crying.

The audience screamed with sadistic glee as the man brandished his blade. With a nod, he signalled the subordinates whose job it was to retrieve the sacrifice.

"He's so weak," the older boy was thinking. "He's seen nothing, knows nothing. How unfair for him to die now." He had always been the stronger, the archetypal firstborn. He had lived to learn his value, to know and respect his own skills, unlike the solitary and pathetic creature across from him. In that moment, the first boy wept for the second, and all the ways in which his weakness had deprived him.

Metal scraped dirt as the cage door flung open, and once again the crowd cried for blood.

The younger one saw it then, clear as ever: pity. It was a look he knew well. The family was not losing its heir, the world was not losing someone special. His only function was to be there, and now he could not even do that. The beautiful and perfect being across from him would be made to suffer yet again because of his shortcomings. He closed his eyes, ready for the henchmen to remove his shackle, knowing that death was now the only thing that awaited him.

Cheers erupted as the boy was pulled from the cage.

The other opened his eyes, confused.

"Me?!" the older one thought in a panic as they dragged him away, "why was I chosen? Why wouldn't they save the best for last?"

The cult leader, as if to answer the boy's unspoken question, informed the crowd that a prime specimen was needed to arouse a prime demon's attention. Cheering turned into a familiar, haunting chant, and everyone in the building thought they knew what would happen next. The first boy was placed on the table, restrained, and the knife raised above him.

"This cannot be how it ends, here with no rights, with no power."

"This cannot be the end of the Phantomhives."

In an instant the blade shone red, two boys screamed for their lives, and the bloodlust of the crowd turned to confusion as all were encircled in a cloud of black.

"A demon!" The cult leader shrieked with delight and genuine surprise. Those near him who had remained composed enough allowed their greed to drown out any fear, and promptly started to make demands of the creature.

"Well," thought the demon, after surveying the room. "How fascinating. Two with the power to summon me, but only one is consumed by selfishness."

He approached the human on the altar first, whose only wish was for the rightful heir to survive. In his final moments, in the desire of his head that he could never have spoken, the child imagined that he was free to do as he pleased, while the second boy was sacrificed in his place. As much as he wanted to protect his younger brother, he also knew that the stronger, more intelligent and more capable one must be left alive. This had always been the only choice that could be made for the future of the household. The demon smiled. "Now there," he whispered in the dying boy's ear, "you can have what you desire."

Tears flooded the older boy's eyes as the beast took his hand. He felt the seal burning into his flesh, and in an instant he knew what it was and to what he had agreed. "There are all types of contracts," the demon continued. "This particular wish..." the creature paused to lick its lips and show the beginning of a strange little smile. Red, alien eyes flickered and seemed to stare through the boy's very core. "...will not be so difficult to grant."

The older brother was overwhelmed by greed, guilt and dread all at once, as the demon grabbed his head, long black nails raking through his hair. In an instant the boy was no longer on the altar, but back in their home. The Phantomhives were hosting one of their many dinner parties, and as always, the second boy was hiding behind a wall, trying to watch without being spotted. But the older one noticed something he had not seen before. His brother's fist was clenched, his fingernails driven so hard into his own palm that the floor was flecked with blood. Suddenly the scene changed. The first boy was with his fiance, Lizzy, on the lawn. He remembered this day very well for all the happiness it brought him, but instead of seeing Lizzy and his aunt and the picnic, he saw only the younger one, peering over the wall. He had not even known his brother was there at the time, but now it was all he could focus on – those sad blue eyes silently watching.

"Do you see?" The demon was asking him. Once again the boy was back on the altar, and his sense of alarm was only growing. "It is suffering that builds character. It is loss that precedes greatness. It is pain that shapes the mind and flavours the soul," he paused to lick his lips again. "You will not be quite so satisfying, but you'll do." The boy blinked, still not completely sure of what he was hearing.

"The rightful heir you have in mind; the stronger, more intelligent, more capable Phantomhive is still chained to that cage. Thus your wish is granted, as is mine." The boy's eyes widened and he tried to scream, but it was too late. The last thing he felt was surprise at the demon's hand on his cheek, comforting him as his soul left his body.

The creature turned, temporarily sated. This meal would provide some nourishment for the more time-consuming project ahead of him.

Now he approached the cage, otherworldly heels digging into the concrete, but something stopped him in his tracks. After everything that had happened, the figure in the prison did not retreat or cower, but instead he reached out, desperate, ruthless and determined. "Demon!" he yelled, "I'll make a contract with you!"

The demon smiled and proceeded slowly, savouring every step. This was not only a boy worthy of his name, but a soul worthy of a feast.