Biting his lower lip, John’s left leg rocked back and forth underneath the table. It was clear he was questioning the decision to bring me here.

I stood up. The wooden chair screeched as I pushed it back. “Forget it. I’ll leave.” There wasn’t any point in punishing John for wanting to help me, further supporting his desire to become a priest.

Let this be my first act in serving John. He shouldn’t be punished for my deceit.

“Wait.” I froze at the sound of the old man’s bellow, my fingers curled on the front door handle. “Aren’t you one of them?”

I stared at John’s questioning blue eyes. He doesn’t know. That my maroon eyes distinguished me a daemon. Taking a deep breath, I turned and faced his grandfather’s piercing glare. “Yes. I am one of them.” He intentionally avoided the word, so I followed his lead.

The Old Farmer remained silent. John furrowed his brow and he stared in pure confusion back and forth between us. It didn’t ease the pressure on my soul. John’s eyes widened, stitching some of the pieces together. His body tightened, making him stand. The chair behind him knocking over in a painful clatter.

“I apologize for misleading you.” Our eyes locked, he gave my own a deeper evaluation.

“Daemon,” he whispered, paling.

“I didn't aim to trick you, John. I’m sorry, I’ll leave.” I turned, squandering any chance at doing something good. Dammit…

“Dante.” I stopped, John’s grip around my wrist sent my heart racing. “You want to be a farmer? Did you mean it? Was that why you came here?”

The heat from his touch was exhilarating, stirring emotions in my heart. I swallowed. “Yes, I want to be here.” The Old Farmer’s face softened, and I caught myself smiling. “I wish to live out my days away from society. To be proud of a day’s work, happy for the blisters on my hands.”

“Please, sit. I’m making my decision.” I did as Paul commanded, picking up John’s chair before sitting in my own. “John wants to join the Church, you know. It will only be the two of us, living here for seven years, maybe longer.”

“I understand, but you are the one who will teach me to be a farmer while he’s away becoming a priest, no?” He smirked at his grandson, amused at the situation as I continued, “I think it suits him, he’s kindhearted and charitable in his actions.”

“Let’s be honest, Dante. I won’t live long enough to see him return home from his studies. He’ll be heading south to Captiva City soon and devote his life to the Church for seven or more years.” Stroking his beard again, he struggled pass the rattle in his voice caused by the wartime scar on his neck. “I will need you to tend to the farm while he is away. Someone will need to maintain this place so he can return home. After that, he’ll be far too busy once he starts his own clergy and maintaining his flock. Priest don’t marry, they take an oath of celibacy, forfeiting love for man or woman in exchange for their love to the cause for peace. Would you be able to look after him when I leave this world?”

John remained silent, holding his breath, awaiting my answer.

“I understand.” A great weight lifted from my chest, I’d found a new home and a new purpose. “It would be an honor to serve John in your absence. Thank you for accepting my request.”

John exhaled, a smile stretching across his face. “Welcome to the family.”

“Know this, Dante.” Paul pulled the pipe from his lips, leaning forward in his chair. “I never thought I would meet the prince of the same kingdom who had once tried to strike me down.” My eyes fell on the ragged scar, then I realized… It’s a failed assassination attempt. “But, Falco is too prideful to share his failures with royalty, I imagine.”

My eyes widened, my destiny dealing me an unusual hand. “I see, you are the Lord Knight Paul who overtook Falco. Not once, but twice.”

“Wait? Prince? Lord Knight?” Red-faced, John finally realized his ignorance, how little he understood about the conversation. “What’s going on?”

Paul’s throat rattled a broken laugh and a sparkle came to his eyes. “So, my name even reached you, I see. My dear grandson, I have given up on the life of a Lord Knight shortly after you were born. Ah, and the man you have brought into our home, well that’s Dante’s choice to tell you some day.”

“No wonder no one visits,” groaned John, baffled by the old man. “I knew you had a rather big braid for a farmer, just thought you were a Count who had lost all his money gambling in arena fights.”

“That’s eleven knots, John.” Snorted Paul, smoke boiling out of his lips and nose. “One shy of my status.”

Leaving my chair, I knelt before the old man. “Let me have the honor to study under you, Lord Knight Paul, as your apprentice. If I am to protect John, let it be by your guidance that I achieve this. I will protect his home, and with your mentorship, protect his life in the same fashion you carried your blade.”

“You know how to use a sword and never taught me?” Leaning over the table, John’s chair fell behind him once more. “Grandfather, how many secrets do you keep from me still?”

“Then, I will allow John to be your keeper.” Paul dismissed his grandson’s outburst.

Looking over my shoulder, I waited for John’s approval. “Agreed?”

“Fine.” Pulling himself off the table, he stormed for one of the adjacent doors and slammed it.

“Will he be ok after all this?” I sighed, my purpose found and secured. “I feel guilty about this…”

“Go grab more wood for the fire.” Paul grumbled, rocking his chair and staring back at the flames dwindling in the hearth. “He’ll learn soon enough this world is full of dark secrets.”

The sun had peeked through the trees. There was no mistaking the fact Paul knew my name the moment I walked through his door. It wasn’t a child’s request to run away from home, but a daemon who wished to escape the violent ways of The House. If John still wanted to return to this place, I will become his sword and shield in order to protect him from the northern tyrants of Glensdale, especially Falco. Even if it costs me my life, to be a guardian spirit for a human was our first purpose according to the old folktales. My thoughts reeled, taking off the white leather tunic and rolling up my sleeves. Work allowed me time to reflect on the world I left behind.

Daemons were different yet similar to humans in a few ways. Our physical tells were the maroon eyes and pale skin. Limitless stamina and greater strength allowed us to carry more weight further, and during war, we could fight longer with more power behind our sword strikes. We were immortal besides the threat of the Madness or death by another’s hand. Our resistance to illness and disease made us seem indestructible, though we couldn’t conceive children as easily as humans, so population was slow growing if at all.

The House was a faction of daemons who broke away from the core foundation called The Court. Unlike their relatives, members of The House practiced the forbidden art of eating blood of humans, earning them the nickname bloodeaters. We were protectors according to the tales, but there were others who desired to rule. The founders of The House discovered a means to gain power and took over substantial portions of Grandemere. Civil war broke out and it took decades of years before the territories were established. In fact, they still push at one another trying to claim territory when they can.

The Tower, the human monarchy, had allied with The Court to overturn The House, but failed. Bloodeaters outlived the average daemon by threefold. Many of the warriors and knights fighting the veterans of The House were new generations. They were children facing the same bloodthirsty tyrants their great grandfathers had failed to subdue. Faster, stronger, and worse off, addicted to the taste of blood only gave them power beyond the peacekeepers, or citizens of The Court.

The Madness plaguing the world comprised of a terrible hunger and it didn’t matter if they were devouring the dead or living. After a bite, humans either died within days or worse, suffered from fits of Madness. It was a plague taking down entire units when the war first started. Daemons serving The Court suffered with the illness too. Maddening cravings sent most begging for an end by their fellow soldier’s sword.

The Church had vowed to find a cure, despite promising to remain a neutral power without a territory. It was an injustice in their eyes. The illness the devils from The House had plagued the world with needed to be stopped, at all costs. The only known cure was the black arts from which The House had started the curse itself. Far as anyone knew, this was a practice only usable by a bloodeater or with the use of a sacred blade. As to how one would cast a cure or spell to counter the Madness was lost to the world centuries ago. The only magic known was the ancient chant said to absorb the curse into the daemon’s body, taking in the corruption into themselves and cleansing it with the magic given from the first feeding. It was normal for noblemen in Glensdale to have slaves who never experience the Madness their whole lifetime, despite daily feedings.

Grabbing the toboggan rope, I aimed for the woods nearby. A smile written on my face and I was left with a glorious thought: My actions tonight was the beginning of ending a war, a disease, and maybe, reunite the kingdoms. Today, I became a steppingstone to a better future where rabid dogs no longer feed upon the mothers and fathers of children. Your world is ending, Falco.