Light of Darkness by Lonnie Davidson (Shadow's Legacy #1)

Editor: Chelsea Cambeis

LIGHT OF DARKNESS Copyright Š 2019 Lonnie Davidson All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please write to the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published by BHC Press Library of Congress Control Number: 2018948485 ISBN: 978-1-64397-016-5 (Hardcover) ISBN: 978-1-947727-85-4 (Softcover) ISBN: 978-1-948540-37-7 (Ebook) For information, write: BHC Press 885 Penniman #5505 Plymouth, MI 48170

Visit the publisher: www.bhcpress.com

s the brilliant light of the sun vanishes behind the distant horizon, the world around me falls to darkness, and I fall along with it. Deeper and deeper I fall, unable to see as I am shrouded in a cloak of blood and blinded by the most primal of feelings: fear. My descent comes to a bloody halt, and finally, I can see again. But as I look upon myself, I am disgusted at what I see. There is nothing left, just the misshapen form of what I used to be. No longer am I an innocent child radiating hope, but a messenger of death. A wraith. A shadow.

• • • • • •

I AWAKE with a gasp, gripping my pillow, and drenched in sweat. With a deep breath, I roll over onto my back and stare into the infinite darkness of my room. My mind runs wild with the images of that godforsaken dream. Every night it’s the same thing. As I wipe the sleep from my eyes, a knock on the door disrupts the solace I find in the silence of my room.

“General Kross?” He knocks harder. “General Kross, sir.”

I push away the silken sheets, sit upon the side of my bed, and look toward the hard pinewood door the visitor is standing behind.

“It’s Shadow to you, human. Now, why do you disturb me?”

“F-forgive me sir, you have been summoned by Lord Beal. You are to report to the war room for a mission briefing, immediately…sir?”

I rake the hair from out of my face. “I get it. Now leave me.”

“S-sorry sir, but I am to escort you to the meeting—direct orders,” he says shakily. The fear in his voice is well placed. Talking back to a general, even on orders, would normally get you killed.

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With a sigh, I stand and stretch. “Pyros,” I say, filling the word with my will and energy. A lone flame flickers to life in the darkness.

Then, all at once, flames burst into existence atop the other candles spread throughout my quarters. The room itself is decently big and furnished with cedar décor. Way better than the dirt box I was in when I first got here.

I make my way across the room to the vanity. At its center sits a commemorative vase, depicting the general who preceded me. Slowly, I push it from the table and watch it as falls to the floor. The sound of it shattering to a million pieces is like music to my ears.

I gaze into the mirror that hangs on the wall above the vanity. My reddish-brown eyes are tired, with bags underneath due to my lack of sleep; my hair is speckled with gray, my face, worn and old. I feel as old as I look. Stretching, the scars from my battles become prominent in the candlelight, casting shadows across my brown skin. I touch one, just left of my heart. The smell of burning flesh fills my nose, and the sound of screams echo through my mind. The crackling from one of the candles interrupts the memory. With a deep breath, I calm myself, pushing it all to the back of my mind. There’s movement in the mirror behind me. The vase is back on the table, back in one piece. At least I get to break it again before I depart.

I don a fine black shirt and pants made from the fur of an iron blasé, a wolf-like creature that resides in the Underworld. It is as soft as the finest silks some humans wear, but so strong it functions as light armor. It has saved my life many times. I open the door and step out. The human messes with his wool tunic before noticing me, then stands at attention, stiff as a board.

“At ease.” At my order, he relaxes, sighing in relief. “Now, let’s go.”

We walk down the stone corridor. Busts of rulers from all over New Birth or Earth ––as the humans call it–– sit in coves along the wall. These men were great rulers, known for leading their people out of the darkness New Birth had to offer. If humanity already had such

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rulers in the world, why were so many of them willing to help us in our efforts to conquer it?

“What’s on your mind, General Shadow?” the human asks, looking back at me.

“Tell me, why do you serve the army?” I ask, looking at one of the busts.

“I serve because the world is filled with the filth of the light,” he explains, his tone serious.

“Why do you think that demon rule will be any different than that of human kings of the past?”

“The kings of old were just stupid humans following the influence of the light—puppets on the strings of faith, killing all those who were deemed sinners, even if they were truly innocent. But demons… demons know of the darkness and all that the universe has to offer.

With their knowledge, we, the fallen, can finally reach salvation.”

There is such conviction, such confidence in his words. I would believe him, had I not heard those exact words from the mouth of another—the high general of the demon army, our lord and master, Beal. He had delivered that same speech to the humans when we first appeared before their ancestors so long ago. His influence over them is astonishing. The things he can make them do with just a whisper…

We reach the end of the corridor. A flight of stone steps lead up to a wooden door. The human runs up them and opens it, allowing the sun to shine in. “After you, sir.”

Making my way up the steps, I move past him and through the doorway. I shield my eyes, and when they finally adjust, I see the headquarters of the demon army here on New Birth—the city of Sodom.

The heat from warm stone under my feet vitalizes me. I always forget how cold it is in my room. It’s busy as usual. Soldiers, humans and demons alike attend to their daily duties, from cleaning to babysitting the children who play in the streets. At first glance, it’s a nice scene— people working together, children playing—but there is a bitterness to

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it. All who reside here are those that have been cast aside and shunned by the world…and the light.

Deeper into the city we walk, until we reach a small, broken building at the city’s core. I enter, and my human escort stops at the threshold. “Sir, may I ask, why is it that demons visit this place so often? There’s nothing here.”

“Leave.”

“By your command,” he says with a bow and leaves.

It doesn’t surprise me how little the human mind can comprehend, nor how they so blatantly lie to themselves. They will never be able to see the world they live in for what it truly is.

I look throughout the room. It’s filled with garbage: sheets, broken tables, and chairs. What I seek is beyond the façade. I seek the truths concealed behind the veil. As I approach the back wall, a small door shimmers into being, pulsing with an intense energy that would have surely driven the human mad. A sigil the length of my arm, in the shape of a serpent appears in the center of the door. Only those with the same sigil engraved into their very souls may enter.

I place my right palm on the door. “Before you I stand, key in hand. I command you…open.”

The sigil flares to life, glowing green. In an instant, the green light dies out, and the door vanishes like smoke in the wind, leaving an empty doorframe. I enter the dark void beyond and soon exit an identical doorway. A single guard in black robes stands waiting, her sword drawn.

Her eyes grow wide when she notices me. “General Shadow, we’ve been expecting you,” she says, lowering her blade. I nod and keep moving. Beal hates to be kept waiting.

I stroll through the catacombs—miles upon miles of stone and mud walls, overflowing with the bones of humans who have died in this city. In this time of war, it is a perfect place for the general’s war room. I come upon a set of large double doors made of bleached human bones and knock.

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“Enter,” a voice orders.

The doors open on their own. As I walk through, sunlight shines through the enchanted ceiling. The gray stone walls of the room are covered by bookcases, chains, unlit torches, and what I think is dried blood; this place was once a dungeon, used as a torture room of some kind. In the middle of the room is a circular table with five chairs situated around it, and at its head sits Lord Beal, looking at a three-dimensional map of the land under our rule.

“You summoned me?” I ask as the doors close behind me.

He looks up from the map. His pale skin glows with an ethereal luster. The bright smile that spreads across his slender face rivals the sunshine that fills the room. I hate it, how beautiful he is. “Ah yes, General Kross…I mean Shadow. How are you this fine morning?”

I cross my arms and lean against the table. “I was doing fine before your little wake-up call.”

He chuckles, reminding me of a kid who just played a prank.

“Please forgive me, but I am of need of your services for a mission.”

I glance around the table. I’m not used to the other three chairs being empty. “Where are the others?”

“Resting,” he says, never taking his eyes off the map.

“Right.” Just one of the many perks of being the lowest ranking general. Whenever a mission comes along, I am the first to be called; it happens time and time again. “What are the details of this mission?”

He moves a strand of his long, raven black hair from his face and waves his hand over the map. A white point appears on the terrain. “Our scouts have informed me that there is a troop of the light’s soldiers moving around the western territory, and we can’t have that, now can we?” He looks from the map and up at me. “So, I want you to search them out, and when you find them…”

“Kill them.”

“Precisely.”

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I turn to leave but stop in my tracks, looking at one of the empty chairs, eyes lingering on the crest of the full moon engraved into the back of it.

“Is there a problem?” General Beal asks, noticing my pause.

I look back to him. “Why send me? Why not send Bane? Being a wolf demon gives him a better advantage in tracking this troop.”

He sets his jaw and glares at me with crimson eyes. “Do not question my decisions, boy.” His voice is harsh and charged with silent power. “You were chosen to be general by Ra-Terin, and though I respect his decision, you must still prove yourself to me. If you return alive, then maybe I’ll recognize you as a general.”

“If you return alive…” I’ve heard the same thing for three dytics— two hundred and forty long human years—and every time I return, he still treats me the same…like fodder. “When do I leave?”

“Immediately.” He waves me on. “Oh, and Kross,” he says as I reach the door, “do not fail me.”

Outside the war room, a couple of deep breaths dull my anger.

He sure can work my nerves. I make my way through the catacombs and toward the western gate. I stop to look up at the sky and exhale, then scream as I stomp the ground, surely cracking it. He really knows just how to get under my skin.

Footsteps approach and I look up, finding a young warrior from my battalion standing before me. Breathing hard, he fixes his tunic and wipes the sweat from his dark skin. He and his friend make it their mission to pester me at least once a day. They can be bit irritating, but their daily annoyance is welcome today.

“General Shadow, sir, may I have a word?” he asks, saluting.

“I’m on my way out on a mission, so walk and talk.”

We walk for a minute before he takes a deep breath. His deepbrown eyes steel as he opens his mouth. “Sir, I wanted to ask a favor of you.”

“And this favor would be?”

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“Well, since I’ve been a part of your battalion, I’ve met a girl, and we’ve fallen madly in love,” he explains, unable to the wipe the grin from his face. “We were wondering if you would wed us?” His voice rises as he asks.

“To wed is a human tradition. Why not soul bond? Is she a Hellspawn?”

“No, sir. She is a pure-blood like us, but she was born and raised among the humans.” He rubs his shaven scalp.

“Why choose me? Why not Dusk, Masani or even Beal? They’re all higher-ranking generals than I.” “Permission to speak freely, sir?” he asks, looking around. I grant him permission with a nod. “Well sir, there is something about you.”

I chuckle. “Elaborate.”

To prevent being overheard, he moves closer. “Well, no disrespect to the other generals, but they are monsters.” This is true. “But you, sir…you just don’t give off that feeling. It’s as if you are lost in the darkness of this war, like many of us. It’s for this reason that I, and many others, respect you and are willing to follow you, no matter what.” He fidgets.

“Is there more?”

“Sir, I have a feeling it will be you that brings an end to this war.”

We make it to the gate. Two sentries push open the doors. “I’m grateful for the praise and flattery, but you are wrong about me. Like the others, I, too, am a monster.” I look at my hands, the screams loud in the back of my mind. “I’ve slain thousands. And it’s not I who will decide the end to this war, but soldiers like yourself and your children.”

His face grows grim, but unsurprised. He clearly already knows of my past. “Sir, we can argue all day about this, but I digress. Will you marry us?” he asks once again.

This boy is persistent.

“Like I said, to marry is a human tradition, and we are not human,” I say sternly. He shifts his gaze downward, defeated. I put my hand on his shoulder, making him jump. “But I’ve never really cared

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about tradition or rules. It would be my honor to wed you two when I return—if I return.”

His eyes light up with excitement. “Th-thank you, sir. You just made us the happiest couple in the world!”

“Go on and tell your wife-to-be.”

He salutes me and then runs off.

“And tell Kir to try not to get himself killed. Those black ops girls are no joke. I should know—I trained some of them.”

As he runs off, the slight joy I feel fades. I look out past the barren plains that surround Sodom and inhale the dry air, the words of my young friend replaying in my head. He is right about one thing: I am lost deep within a darkness that I will never escape, and this mission is only going to drive me deeper still.

ays pass as I walk the mountains of sand and rock. The desert winds push and pull the weeds while the sun beats down on the dry and broken land. By the Creator, I’m thirsty.

I begin to see patches of green grass and smell the light scent of water. Trees with trunks over one hundred feet high begin to appear, until I come to a full forest. The sun shines through the trees’ evergreen needles. The birds sing a joyous song as they soar through the air, weaving in and out of the branches. I’ve not heard a bird’s song in months. I almost forgot how wonderful it made the day seem. Shame I’ll probably have to shed blood on such a day.

Farther into the forest, I come across footprints in semi-dried mud, leading deeper in the woods. I kneel and smell the air just above the tracks. The lingering smell of human and metal. From what I can tell, there are at least eight of them. Based on the shallowness of these prints, they are carrying light armor and supplies. As dry as the prints are, it’s obvious it hasn’t been too long since they came through this area. I’m sure it would only take me half a day to reach them, but to go in headfirst wouldn’t be wise.

Something rustles in the trees above me. A rodent of some kind jumps from one branch to another, giving me an idea. If I stay high in the tree and get the drop on them, they won’t know what hit them until it’s too late. I focus my thoughts and energy around myself.

Strength surges through me. My skin starts to crawl as a black mist—a manifestation of my energy—surrounds me, covering me from head to toe. It partially solidifies, becoming hard. I look at my hand. There, my energy still radiates as a black mist instead of hardening. My armor hasn’t been complete in years, but it’ll do.

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With one jump, I take off toward the sky, soaring through the air, and land on a solid branch. Jumping from tree to tree, I head in the same direction as the footprints. I hope the forest stays this thick or I’ll have to formulate another plan.

An hour later, I find them marching along. That was fast. Their tracks in the mud were more recent than I thought. They walk in a clump, their crude white-and-brass armor glistening in the sunlight.

Four of them are young—baby-faced, bright-eyed, and nervous, with their hands tight on the hilts of their blades. They’ve never seen real battle. The rest are veterans, battle-hardened and vigilant. They will put up the real fight.

Silently, I move ahead of them and wait. I close my eyes to meditate. With every breath, I push myself into the farthest, deepest reaches of my mind and soul—far from reality, far from the lingering screams that haunt me. I see red as something warm trickles down my face. I pay it no mind, for the soldiers are now under me, in my range of attack. I jump from the branch and descend onto them, focusing my energy into my hands. The dark energy envelopes them, shifting and churning until it hardens, transforming my hands into huge claws that resonate with violent power.

As I fall, the drop of the liquid slides from my armor and hits the leading soldier on the face. He stops, wiping his cheek. A crimson substance stains the tips of his fingers. His face fills with confusion as he examines it. “What—” He looks up. His eyes grow wide as they lock onto me.

Landing in front of him, I bring down my left claw with the force of my descent. The tips of my fingers tear through his shoulder and glide through his breastplate like butter, breaking bone, ripping flesh and muscle alike. There is a mix of surprise, fear and pain on his face as he falls backward to the ground.

“A demon!” the closest warrior screams. They all draw their swords.

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I rise from the ground, cracking my knuckles with the slightest twitch as blood drips from my claw. “I am sorry to inform you, but your mission has just been terminated and you along with it.”

In anger for their fallen comrade, two of the remaining seven soldiers charge me. In the last moment of their approach, they lunge forward, set to strike. I feel a nauseating hum of power radiating from their blades as they draw near. These are no mundane weapons. Swiftly, I parry their attacks, pushing them to either side of me. Their momentum draws them in closer than I’m sure they intended. Their legs fly out from under them as I seize their necks, crushing their tracheas.

Releasing their weapons, they begin to fight my grasp, all the while trying to breathe.

Another young soldier readies himself to come at me. An older soldier with skin the color of clay steps forward, grabbing the kid’s shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?” the old man’s strong voice rasps out.

“Commander, I’m going to help my brothers,” the young soldier says, removing the commander’s hand.

The commander’s light brown eyes dart between the two in my grasp, then to me. “Son, they’re already dead. All rushing in will do is lower our numbers.” The young soldier takes a deep breath, calming himself. “Good, now prepare…”

Without warning, the young soldier breaks rank, screaming as he charges at me. In a mad dash, he races toward me, his blade glowing white. I lift the dead bodies and toss them at the approaching warrior. He ducks under the first body and shoulders the other, pushing it out of his way. With a few steps forward, I now stand in front of him.

Frantic, he tries to swing, but I take hold of his hands, keeping them and his blade over his head. I drive my claw past his armor and into his diaphragm. Blood runs down my arm as he gasps for air. I rip my claw from him, and he collapses, choking. “He warned you,” I say, stepping over him.

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I approach the remaining four. They prepare themselves, getting into a two-by-two formation. “On my mark,” orders the commander. I dash toward them. “Now!” he screams, as I enter their range.

The leading two warriors run at me, aiming slashes at my abdomen.

Energy swirls around my legs and feet as I place my right foot in between their crossed blades, stopping them cold. The commander and his other subordinate follow up, thrusting their swords in my face and cutting past my armor into my cheek. The swirling energy around my legs solidifies, forming greaves and protecting my legs as I push off the stilled blades. I flip backward and retreat to a safe distance.

While I regain my composure, they push forward in the same formation, always coming in twos, slashing or piercing from high to low with the intention of keeping me off-balance. Dodging the fierce attacks, I begin to see through their movements. I can predict exactly when, where, and how strong their attacks will be. Planting myself, I prepare to retaliate.

“Hold,” the commander orders, pulling back his sword. They all stop, breathing hard.

“I swear I hit him,” says one of the soldiers, searching his blade for blood.

“Aye. I know I took his arm, but there it is.”

“Be on your guard. This is no ordinary demon. He is using an ancient demon art called Nigi. I don’t know much, but I do know he is more dangerous than we can fathom,” the commander warns.

His subordinates look a little uneasy, and I’m genuinely surprised.

To know even that, this old man must be knowledgeable in obscure demon history—though it’s not going save him or his men. With the sun beaming through the trees behind them, the soldiers’ shadows stretch just shy of me. I take a step toward the collective mass, and they ready themselves in turn.

I focus my energy into their shadows. They begin to move and shift, coming to life. “Come forth,” I command from under my breath.

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From the shadows under their feet, red eyes appear. Serpents the color of coal slither close to the four soldiers, poised to strike.

“Why does he just stare at us?” one of the soldiers asks.

The commander eyes me, the worry lines on his face prominent, no doubt pondering my next move. His gaze lowers, and his face fills with surprise, then urgency. “Move!” he yells. The commander turns, dragging his blade across the ground and through a serpent. The other serpents lash out, striking, wrapping around, and constricting their respective soldier. The commander quickly rolls away.

Channeling energy into my claws and legs, I dash into the middle of the three immobilized soldiers. With a spin, I release the energy from the tips of my claws, and it slices through them like blades. Their heads hit the ground, followed by their bodies, with a bloody spray that covers everything, including me.

I turn to find the commander on the ground, horror-stricken.

“Movements unseen by the naked eye, a user of Nigi and a manipulator of darkness itself. I’ve only heard of one in the whole demon army able to achieve such feats…the fifth ranking general, Shadow.” His hands begin to tremble as I step toward him. He stands and steels himself. Though his fear is obvious, he manages a smile. “But I must say, I thought you would be a lot better; I dispatched your serpent with ease.”

I shift my head to the side. “You dispatched one.”

His smug smile twists into surprise, then pain as he falls to his knees, grabbing his chest. He falls over, blood beginning to pour from his mouth.

“How?” he asks.

“There is darkness and shadow everywhere. Even under your armor.”

I walk closer to him and, from under his breastplate, hear the hiss of multiple serpents. They constrict around his torso. The snapping sound of his ribs breaking echoes out from beneath his armor. With his head bowed, he starts to laugh, even with all his ribs broken.

“What’s so funny, human?”

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He coughs uncontrollably as he struggles to his feet. The man stands tall and looks me in the eyes. “Your time on this plane has come to an end,” he says, falling forward.

I catch him by the throat and lift him into the air. His pulse slows with every beat of his heart. “Oh really? And who will be my end, human? You?” Like a tsunami, a massive wave of energy envelops the area, making my armor and skin crawl. From the densest part of the forest, three soldiers on horseback appear, shining. How did I not notice them until now?

They stop about ten feet away. The gleaming white-and-gold armor of the light they wear pulsates with the same nauseating energy as the human’s weapons. On each of their banners are three star-like crosses encompassed by a white flame. The soldiers’ breastplates are marked with three crosses. They are of a high rank—lieutenants I believe, the first I’ve seen. They dismount, eyeing the dead.

The commander, who still dangles from my grasp, places his hand on my shoulder. “They will be your...demise...Shadow,” he says with that smug smile. His body falls limp in my hold.

The soldiers’ full attention turns to me as the commander’s body hits the ground. The power radiating from them is so stiflingly intense. They must be true angelic warriors. There is no way a human could wield that much power without being driven insane.

“Ready your blades, the general, Shadow, stands before us,” the head soldier orders, his voice light and muffled by his helm.

They draw their swords, readying themselves for an attack. The two lieutenants on either side of the leading warrior move at an angle to my left and right until they surround me.

I’ve seen this three-point formation before. First, they surround me. Next, they charge me, one after another, trying to keep me confused and off-balance. Last, during the confusion, one of them will land the final blow, driving the blade right into my heart. They reach their positions and wait.

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Something is off. The two on my left and right never take their eyes from their leader. If they were going to move on me, they would have done it. They have another plan; they’re just waiting on the signal. Energy wells up within me, and their horses fidget anxiously in response. I dash toward the lieutenant on my left, ready to rip out their heart.

“NOW!” their leader shouts.

The lieutenant before me and the one behind me kneel, plunging their blades deep into the blood-soaked ground. Their swords begin to glow with an intense light that shoots upward into the sky. The wave of light and energy coming from the swords stops me in my tracks. Every shred of darkness in the area vanishes, except for my armor. A barrier of light appears behind me. I move right, just dodging it as it stretches between the two swords. I look in the leader’s direction. He stands there, preparing his sword to do the same.

Their plan is to trap me. It’s not going to work. With a burst of energy from my legs, I take off toward him.

The two other barrier walls begin to form, closing me in, but I’m already in reach of him. I swing my right claw, aiming for his throat, but at that same moment, he kneels, dodging me and plunging his sword into the ground. I follow up my miss with an upward swipe. He leans back, dodging me once again. Light explodes from the sword, knocking me back and completing the barrier.

I look out at my captor through the barrier of light as he removes his torn helm. Deep-black eyes peer at me from behind strands of long, black curly hair. A woman? She stands, moving her hair away from her face, and wiping away the fresh blood. The others stand, removing their helmets. All three of them are women.

“Gotcha,” she says with a cocky smile. I punch the barrier in front of her, expelling a massive blast of energy. She steps back, still wearing that smile.

“We did it!” shouts the lighter-skinned and thicker of the lieutenants as she jumps up and down.

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“So, Ricilia, what do we do now?” asks the other lieutenant, her green eyes and tan skin vibrant in the light.

“We do what we were sent here to do…destroy a demon,” the head lieutenant, Ricilia, says, never taking her eyes off me.

The green-eyed lieutenant moves closer, ruffling her short, straight hair. Her narrow face is full of worry as she stares at me. “How do we destroy it? The barrier normally kills them instantly, but it’s still standing like nothing’s happening.”

“The only way to kill a being of pure darkness is with the pure light of heaven. Paulina, Arianna, back to your positions.”

Doing as ordered, they all kneel before their swords and begin to chant together in a language that I’ve never heard before. The soldiers begin to glow as the power of the words start to take hold. Energy surges from them and pours into the barrier, intensifying it, so that I can no longer see through it.

The trees above me seem to move, opening to a darkened sky. The clouds above swirl as lightning builds within them. There’s a flash, and a piercing light overtakes me. The weight of it drives me to my knees.

“What is this?” I fight to get back to my feet. They continue chanting, and the light intensifies. My strength quickly fades, and I fall back down to one knee.

“Demon,” says a voice riddled with arrogance.

I look up, and from out of the light, a man with skin as dark as ash and hair like fire, wearing similar armor as the lieutenants, appears. A red cape trimmed with gold hangs over his shoulder as he steps up to me. He draws his sword, its blade a gleaming silver, and places it to my throat. White fire gradually engulfs the blade, painfully burning away my armor. “I am Ira, Angel of Judgment and your executioner,” he explains. Pure white wings protrude from the back of his armor.

I’ve never run into an angel this powerful, before today. It’s nerve racking, but this little scare tactic won’t work on me. I grab the still-burning blade with my claw, changing the white flame to black.

With all my dwindling strength, I force myself to stand. Bit by bit, my

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armor falls to the ground, turning into white smoke at my feet. I look the angel straight in his golden-red eyes, which fill with surprise, and smile. “I am Shadow, the fifth general of the demon army.” Ira tries to step back, but I keep hold of his blade. “What are you waiting for executioner? Try and kill me. If you can.”

His rugged features harden with rage. He rips his sword from my grasp and readies himself, getting into a fighting stance. I feel his energy slam into me, dispelling the remaining darkness covering me; it takes my breath away. His intent is clear: to strike me down where I stand. My armor and claws are nonexistent now. After my little show, I’m exhausted and just standing here out of pure will. There’s nothing I can do against him, only accept my fate. Ira rushes me, screaming, ready to drive his blade through me. My eyes begin to burn as the white of the barrier is tinged with red, and something wet runs down my face.

He stops and the tip of his blade hovers just above my heart.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he asks looking over his shoulder.

There is a flash of golden light. The silhouette of a person made of the same light appears next to him, its hand over his. Ira lowers his sword and folds his wings, surprise and confusion on his face. “Sir?” “Tears of blood,” the being of pure light says in a wispy tone.

Ira relaxes, taking notice of my tears. He looks at me with disdain. “You are not what you appear to be.”

The being steps closer to me. “He may be of some use to us.”

This thing is nothing like Ira. His light is tainted by anger and rage—emotions I know far too well. Its power is pure, old, and somehow soothing. My hands tremble as I fight this calming feeling, but the closer it gets to me, the harder it is.

“What are you going to do to it, sir?” Ira asks, his body language still hostile.

Now right in front me, the being lightly touches my face. An unnatural calm washes over me. My body relaxes and melts to mush. A connection forms between us, and I feel it begin to delve deep into

26 | LONNIE DAVIDSON

me—into my mind, body, and soul. “Purge,” it says lightly. With a great flash, everything goes white.

I’m floating now, in an endless void of white. The smell of blood and dirt are gone, replaced by the scent of fresh rain and wildflowers.

“Kross.” The being’s voice radiates all around me. “You meditate before every battle so that your mind is not affected by the deaths of your victims. But your body and soul have shown me the truth. They tell me that you are one of a few demons with light in your heart, though something has forced you into the darkness.”

“You know nothing of me,” I say, still unable to move.

“I know that you are hiding from yourself. You are aged beyond your years because of it.”

I start to laugh. “This is the real me. I’ve always been a monster, a taker of lives, and I have enjoyed every moment of it!” I scream. My eyes start to burn, and I see red again.

The being takes hold of my neck with a viselike grip. “Do not lie to me, little demon,” it says, putting energy behind each word. My body shuts down further. It all stops—my senses, my breathing, my heart, everything. What is this thing? It pulls me closer. “I have existed for eons. I have seen true pain and suffering, for I have been the cause of them. Your bloody tears reveal to me the anguish you endure. Even now, as we speak.” It wipes the tears from my face and releases me.

I gasp for air as my body regains control. Fear creeps up my throat. “What are you about to do to me?” I ask.

It chuckles. “I’m going to help you. Help you rise from your own darkness. Your mind, body and soul will be reborn anew. But first, you must face the death and fear that you have brought upon this world.

So, let us begin.”

The golden light surrounding the being intensifies, enveloping me and the entire void. Then, everything goes black.

Lonnie Davidson was born and raised in Columbus, Ohio.

Growing up, he spent his summers at his father’s home, in Pennsylvania, where his imagination and writing skills were cultivated. Often, he and his father would watch old cartoons, and movies both foreign and domestic. They would read comic books, as well as play board and video games. This variety of animation and role playing developed Lonnie’s appreciation for the artistic imagery as well as the stories and moral lessons they taught.

During the school year, his mother would push him to reach higher levels of academia. When he wasn’t doing school work, Lonnie was filling the pages of notebooks with fantastical stories. Over time, with his mother’s motivation and his father’s inspiration Lonnie graduated top of his high school class and went on to receive his Bachelor’s degree from Ohio University (OU? Oh yeah). Although his degree is not in literature, he never lost the passion for storytelling or the love for creating a world outside of the one we know.

Even as a man, Lonnie has never lost that child-like love for storytelling or letting his imagination run wild on paper. Through his works, Lonnie hopes to paint a vivid picture with words of the worlds that occupy his imagination.