The Blood Rite

Talon

It started with a boom, then the clatter of feet rushing down to the altar room and five or more of Death's friends crowded into the room. Talon's heart dropped. What could that many mean for him? But then he listened to their feverous murmurs.

"They've found us!" One cried.

"Shut up or they'll hear you," another hissed.

"We need to run."

"But what about him?"

All heads turned towards Talon. He couldn't see their eyes, but he felt them. He was too weak to raise his head or to ask what was happening. All he could manage was letting his head loll to the side and release a weak groan.

One of them flung out a hand. "He's too weak. We'll have to kill him before they get to him."

"He doesn't want him dead. He wants him weak. We need to take him."

Before anyone else could argue another boom sounded and suddenly the door slammed open with a bang. A cloud of dust and debri converge on them. Talon was choking on it. It didn't take long for the dust to settle but it was trapped in his lungs.

Feet pounded down the stairs and fighting ensued. Fighting the cult members were people dressed in dark brown leathers, weilding wooden weapons. Talon didn't understand what was happening until a wooden sword pierced one of the cult members and he dropped dead.

Hope rose inside of Talon. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time and it gave him enough strength to cry out, "Help! Help me!" He wasn't sure anyone could hear him but then a brown figure turned towards him and rushed to his side.

"Are you hurt?" The man asked.

"Yes," Talon croaked.

He turned, "I need help over here! Where are you hurt?"

"Everywhere."

"Don't worry, we will get you out of here."

Tears pricked Talon's eyes. It had to be too good to be true. He had to be dreaming.

In the end it wasn't. Two of the brown figures patched up any of his open wounds and once they'd slaughter all of the cult members, a man undid Talon's binds and carried him out into a full, glittering night sky.

***

The people took Talon to their hide out. They fed him, cleaned him, and took care of all of his wounds. Except for one. There was one deep inside of him that he was sure could never be healed.

He started to learn their names but when he asked what they were doing, they only said, "Saving the world with one dead demon at a time." Talon didn't care to much what they did, only that they promised to let him walk free after he'd healed. Although he recieve many odd looks for the mangaled scar at his neck, no one said anything about it. The way Death had tore into it with his teeth had promised that it would never heal fully.

Slowly, he started regaining his strength. Weeks later and his mind was clearer. He remembered his end goal. Ruby. Save Ruby. With one agonizing step forward each day, he pushed himself harder. He had to get to her.

Soon, he promised.

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