Grey (Part 2 - Dark Dealings)

The sky looked like it was burning. Choosing that dramatic moment to set, the dwindling sun shining through the smoke-filled skies was darkly beautiful. Maybe the beauty of the ruined day was necessary to balance the ugliness left, smoldering and black, scattered all around Grey.1

He sat on a large stone in the center of the town, silent witness to the devastation of what may or may not have been his hometown. He'd ran the rest of the way to the town when he saw the flames in the distance, but he was obviously far too late to save anyone. Even the few skeletons he could see were so badly burnt that they were mostly just piles of ash. He felt numb, and disconnected from the whole grisly scene. He didn't even feel an urge to cry, though he could do nothing about the tears flowing down his cheeks because of the smoke. He simply felt nothing, a total absence of emotion aside from the disappointment that this town had no answers for him.2

'Am I really that uncaring and selfish, or is this because I can't remember what this place was to me?' he thought, shivering. He wasn't very concerned about whatever had caused this coming back for him, but having no foundation to his character was deeply unsettling. 3

The wind picked up, lofting ashes into the air around him, and reminding him that it would only get colder the longer he stayed outside. “Shelter,” he muttered to himself, looking around hopelessly at the decimated buildings left standing. Seeing one that was mostly intact, he walked to the doorway, left wide open with no door to close behind him. 4

'It'll have to do,' Grey thought, walking into the blackened house warily, worried the ceiling might collapse on him. He glanced at the walls, seeing several swords and tools still hanging from hooks. Obviously some kind of blacksmith. Acting on a vague impulse, he scanned the floors until he found what he'd been looking for; a small trapdoor, secured with a big, solid lock. He was stumped for a minute, but again followed a hunch and found a suitably sized key hidden on top of the door's arch. He was actually surprised when the key turned, and the lock came open in his hand. 5

Lighting a candle lying on the floor, he lifted the trapdoor and wasted no time descending to the basement, which was surely better shelter than the battered upstairs. The little hallway he found himself in was very cramped, and went two different directions, so he went left, and entered a spacious bedroom. There wasn't much in the way of decoration, just two beds and two dressers. Walking to one dresser, he saw something carved into it and bent down closer to look. The letters were awful, as if someone young had carved it, but they spelled out Grey.6

“Of course,” he said out loud, his voice echoing in the empty room, “That's why I knew where the key was.. I lived here.” It had felt kind of familiar, but at the same time the house brought no childhood memories flashing through his head, and he couldn't even remember who he'd apparently shared a room with. 7

He walked to the other dresser, hoping to find a similar clue to his roomate. 'I could have a brother!' he thought, for the first time feeling some kind of concern about who his family was. For all he could tell, they could have been burnt to dust with everybody else, but he refused to let himself believe that after he'd just gained some hope of finding them.8

There was also a name carved onto the other dresser, in much neater printing, but still a name he couldn't recognize: Bo. The disappointment that rose up in his chest surprised Grey, and not feeling very curious anymore, he took his boots off and laid down on the bed. He'd just intended to sit and maybe feel sorry for himself a little longer, but within minutes he was fast asleep.9

*****10

This time he dreamt of a cave, a cave with walls bathed in blue light, forming an illusion of being deep underwater. The light came from six candles, placed in a circle around a large chair. A man sat there, his features hard to make out in the strange light. He turned his head to inspect Grey, and those eyes seemed to burn with their own inner light, a light that was somehow harder to look at directly than the weird blue flames.11

"I've been waiting for you," the man said, standing up. He wasn't much taller than Grey was, but something in the way he held himself, in the silent hum of power that emanated from every inch of his being, made Grey feel small looking at him. 12

"Why?" Grey asked, trying to ignore the overpowering urge to bow at the sound of the man's voice. He'd meant to sound more confident, self-assured, but all he'd managed to force out was something a little above a whisper.13

"Because you need something from me, and I knew you'd come to me one way or another," the mysterious man said, his features still strangely hard to see clearly. His voice seemed to lack any emotion whatsoever, but Grey felt moved by everything he said as if each short statement had been an heartfelt declaration.14

"Why would I need something from you in particular," Grey said, looking defiantly up at the man though the effort made his knees shake, "In fact, who are you anyways?"15

The man stepped closer, laughing warmly. Grey immediately felt much more comfortable at the sound. "I've had a couple of names over the years, but most people call me Brand," the man said, pulling a cigar out of his coat pocket and lighting it by igniting the tip of one finger with flame that seemed to come from inside of him. The cave was filled with a sweet smell, similar to the scent of lilacs in the summer. "I'm what you might call the Lord of the demons," he said, exhaling a smooth flow of blue colored smoke, "and I can help you with your little problem, if you're willing to pay the price I require."16

"My memory?" Grey spat out, bitterly, "What can you do to help me fix that?"17

"Well, I could start off by telling you that you're cursed, and that you would need to be capable of some amazing things before you could hope to solve this issue." Brand's words were bittersweet; Grey might know the name of his problem, but he was definitely not amazing by any standards.18

"So I'm offering you a choice, a very dangerous choice," Brand continued after a short pause to let Grey digest his words, "to choose between being mostly helpless or having the power to change the world."19

"Obviously I'd choose to be powerful, why wouldn't I?" Grey asked him, waiting for the twist.20

"Because," Brand said, stepping even closer to Grey, "my power is a dark power that grows with every use, and if you ever let it become too powerful, it would grow to consume you in the end." Brand's eyes were glowing now, a soft red, but they were surprisingly human. Bathed in the soft light, the 'lord of the demons', or whatever he was, was an outrageously handsome man, with sharp, aristocratic features that were attractively softened by his friendly attitude.21

"I don't care," Grey said, shaking his head, "I'd rather die trying to do something than die because I'm incapable of controlling my own destiny.. If that's all you have to say, then I accept your deal, demon."22

Brand's lip pulled up into a crooked smile. "Then give me your hand," he said, and Grey rushed to comply. Expecting some kind of handshake, he was surprised when Brand simply grabbed his hand. Moving his head down, the demon gently kissed Grey's exposed wrist. 23

At the touch of Brand's lips, Grey's skin felt like fire was pumping through his veins, and it was all he could do to keep from passing out. After what seemed like an eternity, the pain became manageable, then faded out entirely.24

Looking down at his wrist, now ironically branded with an imprint of Brand's lips, he almost didn't hear Brand's next words to him.25

"Be careful, the stronger this power grows, the more it will affect your nature itself.. Still, I'll enjoy seeing what you do with my gift either way.. I have other things to tend to, but I'll be in touch to see the results myself," he said, his voice growing fainter with each word. 26

*****27

Grey woke up, his heart pounding furiously in his chest and sweat pouring down his forehead. 'Just a dream,' he thought for the second time, until he looked down. Adorning his pale wrist was a set of black lips, and he couldn't for the life of him remember if they had been there before he fell asleep.