too far into this realm of hell without better knowing my
surroundings. However, I had no choice in the matter; I
had come for Damascus and refused to leave until I had
finished my task.
“Are you afraid?” Violet eyes reflected back at me
from the pale marble on my right as I glanced around the
mostly barren ballroom once again, looking for some sign,
some hint as to his location. “The great Lord Damascus.
Cowering, in fear, from the likes of me?” I taunted him,
tearing at his ego with my words. It reminded me of that
night so very long ago, remembering what it was like to be
taunted.
I remember that night as if it happened just the other day,
instead of all those long decades ago. I was walking home from work,
traveling my usual path of cobbled roads and graveled alleyways. It
was just past eight of the clock on the first day of the New Year -
1815, and only the most disreputable were still out that eve. They
were scuttling about like cockroaches, looking for what measly wares
they could find to sustain themselves. I was the lone moth floating on
the wind, fluttering along those worn passages I had always known
and trusted.
But no longer! No longer shall I trust such sheep-herding
paths of woe; those which only the feeble minded and unknowing
travel. These are the paths to hell of which I speak, walked by the
damned; the tainted souls of the night, never to be whole again.
I cannot understand, even now, how I became such an
interesting mark. At least, that is what my attacker implied that
night. His… how did he say it? Oh yes:
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