• The man was sitting by the fire that night. He never spoke much. When he did it was always brief; usually to order his meal for the day. He seemed to be neither kind nor unkind. Simply solitary.
    On his fifth night at the tavern a man approached him with two mugs of ale in hand. Taking the seat across from the quiet man he set one mug before himself and the other in front of the stranger.
    The quiet man looked at his companion with sad, haunting blue eyes. The other man stared back with sharp, dark brown eyes; so dark they almost appeared to be black. When neither of them spoke for a while, the dark-eyed man decided to break the silence.
    “I’ve noticed you here for almost a week now, sir,” he said, speaking with a smooth voice as dark as his eyes. “You don’t seem to be much for company, but I can tell when someone’s got a story they need to tell. I hear that ale usually loosens the tongue.” He waited a moment and still the other man said nothing. “Well now, don’t feel obligated to say anything. After all, I’m just a stranger looking for a story.”
    After saying his piece, the man took a swig of his ale and waited for the other to speak.
    A few more minutes passed in silence between the two, with only the dull chatter of the tavern swirling around them. At last, after what seemed like a life time, the blue-eyed man gripped the mug of ale and took a cautious drink. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. Moments later he opened them.
    “You say that you are a stranger.” He stated softly, his strangely melodic voice catching the attention of a passing bar maid.
    The woman looked him over appraisingly as a blush rose to her cheeks. She hurried on by when his eyes lifted to meet hers. After all, she had no business ogling at a man like him.
    His hair was as red as blood and his eyes were a cool, lonely blue. His peach skin was so fair and smooth and his looks… well, not many men went around with a face like that without a woman on each arm. He was, simply put, beautiful. The beauty he was made of could be nothing short of celestial.
    The dark-eyed man had watched the exchange between the attractive young man and the passing woman. He smiled slowly as he turned his gaze back on his companion. “Yes, I did.”
    Blue eyes narrowing slightly, the young man leaned forward in his seat, leaning his elbows on the small table. “That’s one of your many names, isn’t it? Dark Stranger is just the one for this region.” His voice, although still beautiful, was now a low growl, so low that the only other person who could hear him was the man across from him, the Dark Stranger as he’d called him. “I can recognize your kind on sight. Don’t try to fool me. It will get you nowhere.”
    The Stranger smiled mockingly, leaning forward in his seat as well. “Is that so? What will you do now, good sir?”
    The red-haired man glared. “Don’t try my patience. I’ve already killed one of your kind. What makes you think I won’t do it again?”
    Nodding appreciatively, the Stranger returned to his neutral position in his chair. “I thought it was you. I’ve heard a great deal about you… God Slayer Dantelon.”
    Dantelon winced, furrowing his fair brow as he slumped in his seat. “Don’t call me that.”
    The Stranger laughed darkly before taking another drink from his mug. “You all but called yourself that just now. Not so brave now, are you little fallen? Now that I know your name.”
    Shaking his head as if that alone could free him of his memories, Dantelon tried to meet the Dark Stranger’s eyes. “I know your name too….” He whispered, almost so quiet as to be inaudible.
    Curiosity piqued his interest. “Do you now? Care to share?”
    “Valencis.” Dantelon said the name bitterly. The fire shuddered, as if it was afraid and every candle in the tavern briefly flickered. Conversation all around quieted for a moment at the strange occurrence before it returned to the usual din.
    Valencis, Dark Stranger, Lord of the Dark Place, the God of Darkness… one of three dark gods of the Underworld. Straightening his posture, Valencis lowered his now black eyes to the fierce blue of Dantelon’s.
    “I hope you are not issuing a challenge.” His words were more threat than warning.
    Dantelon defiantly glared back. “What if I am?” I’ve got nothing more that I can lose to these monsters….
    For a moment, the darkness in the room seemed to be gathering in the most unlikely place; near the fire, which had before been crackling merrily and was now weakly trembling in fear.
    Suddenly, the darkness dissipated; just as an almost cheerful grin spread across Valencis’s face.
    “Such rebelliousness… it’s quite admirable. No wonder they sent you here.” The god remarked with a touch of awe in his voice.
    More than a little confused, Dantelon unclenched his fists and warily eyed the god sitting across from him. He didn’t quite know what to say.
    Valencis sensed his puzzlement and continued to say, “I have a proposition for you… one that I’m sure you will be very interested in. Of course, I’ll only allow you to hear it after I’ve heard your story.”
    “Why should I even consider this ‘proposition’ of yours?” Dantelon asked cautiously.
    “If you don’t then I suppose you’ll never know what could have changed.” Valencis replied smartly.
    Silence once more made itself known between the god and the man. Taking a hearty swig of the drink before him, Dantelon ran a nervous hand through his fiery red hair.
    “Alright.” He took a deep breath and began. “My name is Dantelon, as you already know. I was a messenger angel under command of Goddess Demil. I just ran errands for her in the heavens. I was never sent here to Idril.” He paused for a moment. He wanted to keep it short. “I had… I have a brother named Ivelos. He served a demi-god, one of the sons of Kelonius. I didn’t get to see my brother much because he was often sent to Idril. I started noticing a change a few years after he started his service to that demi-god.” The way he said ‘demi-god’ sounded like a curse. “I was supposed to do my first run on Idril to address an avatar to my goddess… but I didn’t. I don’t know why, but I went to where Ivelos was supposed to be. I… I saw…” he closed his eyes and took another deep breath before downing the rest of his ale. A moment later, he continued. “I saw what he’d done to him. I found him covered in his own blood. He was so ruined… he couldn’t even cry because that monster cut his eyes out. He’d finished using him… just like he’d used other angels. He was going to kill him. He was going to murder my brother after he’d… after…”
    Valencis watched as the former angel fought back the tears that threatened to flood forth. He’d known that it was be a hard thing to tell, so he’d taken precautions. He didn’t need the mortals looking their way, so he’d cast an illusionary spell around their little table by the fire. The only thing the mortals would see is two men having a friendly conversation over ale. Not one of them sobbing as he told a story of rape, deception, and murder.
    Eventually Dantelon was able to recover. He offered no apology for the delay. “When I realized what he’d done to him I knew that I couldn’t let him live. I was… consumed with such a rage… I thought that nothing could quell the fire that burned in my breast that day. When that thing returned to finish the job, I went after him. He laughed when he saw me stalking toward him. And he choked on his own blood when I ripped his ******** throat out. I tore that b*****d limb from limb as he gargled and screamed through the ragged hole in his neck. I wanted him to feel the pain my brother had suffered at his hands. But I didn’t have time to torture him for that long.” His voice no longer held the softness of sorrow. It was jagged edged with pain and hatred. “I plucked his eyes from his skull as he tried to squirm out of reach. I’m sure he would have clawed at my arms if he’d had any limbs left. I ripped open his jaw and I tore out his tongue. His screams were so terrible… but they weren’t as awful as my silence.” He let out a breath and looked into Valencis’s pitch dark eyes. “I left him like that. To slowly bleed to death. I took my brother and returned to Demil’s side. I told her everything, I spared her nothing. She healed my brother to the best of her abilities… but she could not return his sight.” Running his hand through his hair again, Dantelon concluded his tale of woe. “I was tried with the murder of a god and found to be quite guilty, as you can imagine. My act was recognized as one of justice by the standards of many… and by others it was seen as a sin of the highest measure. Some of the gods thought I was too dangerous to let live. Most of them, Demil included, pleaded on my behalf. My wings were taken from me and I was cast out. They left me here, on Idril, with nothing.”
    Valencis was silent for a few minutes after Dantelon’s story. “How long have you been living outside of the heavenly realm?”
    Shrugging slightly, the fallen replied, “I’m not sure. At least a good twenty years I’d say.”
    “I see… well then,” he leveled his stare and asked in the most serious voice, “How would you like to become my personal assistant?”
    Raising a brow, Dantelon held back a small laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Look… I hate gods. If you were a goddess this would be a different story altogether.”
    “I understand that perfectly well. But you do not even know what my offer entails. I’m sure that you would be most appreciative of certain features that you would gain.” The god retorted instantly. It was obvious that he was not playing around. The Dark God was known to get whatever he wanted as it was.
    Considering it for the moment, the fallen said, “Tell me then. Make your offer and make it good. I won’t be a pawn; I’ll have you know that.”
    “You will be no one’s pawn. I propose to change you, little fallen, into a demon of the highest degree; a devil. Second only to a god.” Valencis stated his dark offer without so much as a smirk. “If you do this, you will have new wings and new power. You will answer only to me and no one else. This by no means makes you a pawn. As I said, you will be my assistant. You will have access to all of the Underworld and Idril. I do not want full obedience from you unless I specifically say so. For the most part, you are free to do as you please.”
    It was an offer that one should not refuse lightly, Dantelon knew. Second only to a god. He hated gods. He didn’t want to be inferior to them… but at the same time, he knew he’d be closer to them then he ever would be on his own. He wasn’t sure of what it was he was going to say, but he opened his mouth anyway.
    “I accept.” The words were out of his mouth before he could even think them. He was stunned by his answer so much that he didn’t notice the look of triumph that passed through Valencis’s abysmal eyes.
    “Well then… shall we go outside and seal the deal?” The god asked with a slight smirk.
    Dantelon nodded and rose from his seat, still pondering over his decision. He’d felt no influence from the god. In fact, Valencis’s celestial aura was more than dampened. He hadn’t known what he was until he’d looked him in the eyes. Usually he could sense a god a mile away. He’d run from enough of them to know.
    He followed the Dark Stranger outside, to many confused looks from the patrons of the bar. Perhaps they sensed his morbid mood.
    One moment he seemed to be walking down the dirt road that connected the tavern to the other homes around town. The next moment, he felt nothing as he was enshrouded in shadows. It was the strangest feeling, to feel absolutely nothing. He could see the shadows swallowing him whole, but he could not feel the darkness as it penetrated his very being. His eyes closed. Perhaps the god had tricked him. Maybe he’d fallen into one of Kelonius’s traps. After all, the god had sworn vengeance upon him for the murder of his son.
    It was only a matter of time I suppose… Dantelon thought sluggishly as the shadows surrounded him, drank him in. I’ve been getting sloppy. Ivy…
    His body was consumed by pain a moment later. He wanted to scream. He wanted to pull at his skin until it was torn from his body. He wanted to die.
    The strangest thing happened… something that had not happened in over twenty years. Wings sprung from his back, causing blood to splatter across the ground. These wings were not the pure white that he’d had before. They were pitch black; darker than the night and covered in blood and scraps of skin. He could see them as he furled them around his quaking body. His body felt like it was burning from the inside out; like he was being burned with the pit fires of the Underworld. He stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, his dark wings cushioning his fall.
    He lay there for a moment, panting as the fire coursed through his veins.
    When he heard gentle steps beside him, he opened his eyes to look up at Valencis. “What…” He didn’t know what he’d done to him. But it was obvious that he hadn’t killed him.
    “I’ve done exactly what I set out to do,” the god said simply as he held a hand out to the devil before him. “I’ve made you into a devil.”
    Dantelon grasped at the offered hand and was pulled to his feet. It was strange feeling the weight of wings on his back again; but it felt right. There was something else that was different… his head felt heavier, like he had a hangover. Very slowly, he raised a hand to feel the top of his head. Something smooth, like bone was curving out from under his hair… “Horns?” he gasped, shocked as he pulled his hand away.
    Valencis smiled in amusement. “What were you expecting? You are a devil now.”
    Dantelon’s eyes were wide as he stuttered, “But… but I’ve never seen demons with horns before! I can’t… I have to walk around like this?”
    “Demons…?” Valencis roared with laughter. He was surprised by the ignorance of angels in the heavens. “Dear little fallen – ah, devil now, sorry. Demons are not at the level that you are at and never will be. After all, only exceedingly powerful demons even have a hint of horns. You on the other hand… well, why don’t you see for yourself?”
    Waving his hand in a circular shape, a surge of shadows sprung from nowhere, swirling for a moment before forming into a mirror. The mirror hovered in the air as if an invisible pair of hands held it there.
    Dantelon took a step towards the mirror, fearing what he would see reflected in its depths. He let his eyes linger on the strange, yet familiar image. He wasn’t a monster. He was himself with a few… adjustments. His eyes, usually an icy blue were an aggressive, bright red with horizontal black slits for pupils. His hair was its usual color, but there were not one, but two pairs of horns poking out from under the fiery strands. The lower pair was thick and curved around toward the back of his head while the higher pair was thin and rose up in gentle, nearly straight curves. Both pairs of horns were as dark as the wings on his back.
    “You see… devils are an interesting breed. Well, I suppose you can’t really be considered a breed. After all, no one is born a devil. Devils are a unique, created race. Devils can only be made by Underworld gods and the only beings capable of becoming devils are angels. Angels can never become demons, contrary to the stories mortals tell. And demons can never become devils. Angels though… are exactly what devils are. The Underworld is the dark side of the Highworld, known as the heavens. Devils are merely the shadows to angels.” The Dark God smiled sardonically as if he were letting Dantelon in on a private joke. In a sense he was. “There is something that angels are never told by the gods in the heavens… angels are not the weak little slaves that they are taught to be. They are warriors with the strength to counter even the gods. They were made so the gods would not have to fight. When angels first came to be they were strong… too strong. The gods clipped their wings, so to speak and left many of the warrior beings on Idril. There were still a few angels in the heavens though, that knew nothing of their power. Their powers lay dormant within them as long as they were never told of their strength. You… you however, unleashed your power when you were confronted with such rage. The gods knew this. That is why they wanted you dead. Now… here you are.”
    “Here I am….” Dantelon repeated, his head swimming with the newfound knowledge. “Why are you telling me this? Aren’t you afraid that I’ll kill you?”
    Valencis smiled knowingly. “No. I don’t think you will kill me. Not that you could. I am one of the oldest gods in existence. No offense little devil… but I am far, far out of your league.”
    Somehow Dantelon knew he was right. If he tried to challenge this god he would end up dead.
    “I don’t… I don’t have to look like this all the time, do I?” Dantelon asked softly, afraid that he would be told ‘yes’.
    “Of course not,” Valencis snorted. “Pull your wings in like you did as an angel. The horns will go away too.”
    The moment he thought it was when it seemed to take effect. No sooner did he imagine his wings and horns gone then they were. He blinked and looked in the mirror. His eyes still blazed red with strange pupils. He tried imagining them being the wintry blue from before, but they still stayed the same.
    “Why won’t my eyes go back to normal?” He asked the god, confused.
    “Ah… that.” Valencis frowned. “That’s permanent. You’ll have to learn to put a glamour over it.”
    “A what?” Dantelon asked, even more confused. He’d never heard that word before.
    Valencis waved his hand, causing the mirror to vanish in a puff of smoke. “You have to learn a few things I suppose.”
    Nodding his head in agreement, Dantelon asked what he’d been meaning to ask for a few minutes. “Are we going to the Underworld now?”
    Valencis looked him over before answering. “Not like that you aren’t.”
    “Not like what?” The devil asked, offended.
    “Not with that angel name. You can’t go into the Underworld with a name like that.” Valencis responded.
    Dantelon frowned. He has a good point… he thought to himself. I can’t just change it so easily though.
    It seemed like a lot to consider. He tried thinking of a name that suited a devil but still belonged to him. That didn’t work. He tried rearranging the letters in his name. He couldn’t think of anything that made sense. Frustrated, he dropped to the ground again.
    The god watched with a curious eye but he said nothing.
    D.. A.. N.. T.. He drew the letters of his name in the dirt and stared at it. Dantelon… He erased one letter at a time from the end until it spelled out ‘Dante’. He stared at the name for a moment before erasing it all. He rose from the ground and looked at Valencis.
    “Well?” the god asked.
    “I’ve decided,” the devil said, his new red eyes flashing in determination.
    “Tell me then,” Valencis drawled, a smile creeping across his pale lips. “What is your name, devil?”
    “Dante.”