A slow trot carried the four riders down the wind-beaten path that ran through the cliffs along the coast. The early morning light broke over the horizon in crisp white rays, basking the ocean waves, lapping softly against the stone far below them, in a soft, comforting glimmer. Mesmerized by Mother Nature’s gentle display of magnificence, the scouts silently gazed out towards the horizon, continuing their daily patrol. Warming winds blew out from the sea - no longer the harsh, cold winds that warned of winter storms - whistling gleefully of the coming of spring.

Mary was the first to break the silence. She yawned and grimaced before smacking her lips in satisfaction. Taking the reins of her horse, she galloped forwards until she was side by side with Abey, breaking their line formation. She turned to the two riders behind her and whistled, shaking her red, shoulder-length curls, beckoning them to hurry up. She turned back towards Abey and broke into a smile, leaning sideways off her horse and pecking him on the cheek.

“I missed you.” she said, slowing back down to a trot.

“I was only gone for two days.”

“You could’ve written. I’ve never been to the capital.”

“It's not that interesting. It’s kinda like our town, just bigger, and everyone’s always rushing somewhere. The food was nice though.”

“That’s not the point. I was worried. How did the examination go?”

“I dunno yet. They’re supposed to mail us back the result, but I don’t feel too well about that. There were a bunch of words I couldn’t read….” His head rocked forwards as Mark smacked him across the back of the head before galloping around to his other side, Luke just behind him.

“What!?” Mark chuckled as he ruffled his hand through Abey’s short brown hair. “Our town scholar doesn’t know how to read?”

“Don’t feel too bad.” Luke cut in. “The priest told me that the civil servants almost exclusively come from the capital and its surrounding provinces. They just don’t teach us like that out here, and even Father Herald said he failed the civil service exam back in his day, after the war ended.”

“I guess it’s army for all of us, then.” Mark said. “It's for the better anyway. I would hate to see you go. I’m sure Mary would, too.” He winked at her, then snapped the reins and galloped off. 

“Don’t listen to him.” Mary said. “If you went to the capital for University I would wait for you. I promise you.”

Abey nodded, still looking out into the horizon, before breaking out into a gallop, heading down the descending path.

When he caught up to Mark they were already galloping along the beach, the cliffs bearing over them. Mark tugged at the reins of his horse, bringing his horse to a stop in front of one of the many cave openings in the face of the cliffs, he climbed off and drew his sword.

“What’s going on?” Abey jumped down onto the sand and took his blade out of its scabbard.

“Somethings wrong here.” Mark muttered. “The horse went crazy when we neared the cave. I’ve never seen anything like it with her. And the air…” He exhaled heavily and took a deep breath, raising his nose against the wind. “It smells, I don’t know, strange.”

Abey sniffed the air and walked closer to the gaping mouth of the cave. There was a faint metallic smell in the air, and something sickly sweet, like disease. Or death. The sun illuminated a few feet inside the cavern, enough to reveal how it narrowed down into an old mining tunnel and disappeared deep underground beneath the cliffs. Their town grew out of a mining outpost that dug out these cliffs  for precious stones and valuable ores, and this was one of the many abandoned quarries.

“Are we going inside?” Abey asked.

“Let's wait for the others.”

Mary and Luke tied their horses to an outcropping by the cave mouth and stepped inside, following the two larger men into the mining tunnel. Mark held a lit torch, guiding it from side to side ahead of the group as they slowly made their way through the darkness. Every step that led deeper underground came with a waft of the same sickly-sweet stench their horses had caught a whiff of up above, before the smell became so intoxicatingly unbearable that Abey covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief and tied it behind his head.

The tunnel opened up into a larger cavern, and the four cautiously stepped inside. It was pitch black, except for the dim red glow of Mark’s torch. Shadows of abandoned mining machinery danced across the earthen ground; they had walked into an old mining outpost. All was almost silent - faint, methodic crunching, just barely audible if all held still, echoed in the distance.

“Do you hear that?” Mary whispered.

Mark nodded slowly. “It’s probably some animal. A bear that dragged a beached seal into these caves, and is eating it.”

“I’ve never heard of a bear wandering this far down the cliffs.” Abey replied. “And the tide’s been low. Nothing would be beached for a while…” He grabbed the torch out of Mark’s hand and kept walking forward.

“What do we get paid for guys? C’mon! Years of nothing happening on patrol, nothing in our little town, and the first time something interesting comes up you guys wanna leave. Let's go.” Abey said, glancing backwards and smirking. “If I leave town, I want something memorable to look back on, you know. Even if it’s just some animal.”

They crept forwards down the tunnel, and the harsh orange light from their torches merged with a faint purple light streaming from somewhere ahead. Rounding a corner, the crunching growing louder, they rounded a turn in the tunnel and stepped into a larger clearing. And froze.

In the center of the cavern was a pit glowing a rich shade of purple. Hunched over the pit, gazing into it and scratching its chin with long curved claws, sat a thing. It was vaguely humanoid, with long muscular limbs, but its skin was red and scarred, and its face elongated, with gleaming black eyes, and long white hair falling over its shoulders. A coarse hide breastplate covered its body, and from its hip hung a longsword - large by human standards, but perfect for its size. Limbs - arms, legs, a head - were strewn around it, and it sat, chewing slowly on something inside its mouth, and the dull crunching echoed sharply in the silence. It turned its head slowly towards the four, and grimaced, muttering something in an unknown tongue. It stood and spat a bloody glob onto the floor, drawing the blade and opening the palm of its left hand; the two red dots on its forehead erupted into glowing spheres and started circling its wrist.

“Scatter!” Mark was the first to move, shouting and drawing his sword. Luke followed, circling away, and Abey dashed away - just as the thing’s sword sang through the air where he stood moments earlier. Only Mary stood still, her face pale and eyes wide, staring blankly at the towering Demon in front of her - stood still, as its blade turned, and cleaved her in two. Blood splattered across the wall and floor of the cave. She squealed quietly, and then she died.

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There was silence. Abey’s arms felt heavy, and he fumbled, struggling with his scabbard. His ears rang, and the bile rose in his stomach. Air flowed from the cave into his lungs, and heaved outwards. He glanced at the two halves of Mary, laying just beside him, and his knees gave out. No thoughts came. He could only look.

Luke lunged, thrusting his sword towards its side, and Mark stepped forwards, attacking fiercely with rapid blows from the front; the Demon drew back, brushing Mark’s blows aside with its massive blade, and Luke’s sword slid harmlessly off its breastplate. It brought the hilt of its sword down, smashing Luke in the head. He collapsed to the floor, and rolled away. Mark’s blade fell and fell again, but each time was brushed easily aside, until a swift blow knocked it out of his hands. He dashed away and shouted at the two boys laying by the entrance to the cavern.

“Run!” He turned back around and drew a shorter blade, blocking the Demon’s downwards blow and retreating backwards. Luke groaned and squeezed his head between his hands; Abey didn’t move.

Mark stood between them and the Demon, crouched low to the floor, breathing heavily. The Demon sheathed its blade and stepped back towards the pit; Mark glanced backwards and shouted again. “Move!” Abey glanced back and forth between Mary, Mark, and Luke, his hands limp at his sides. Something is terribly wrong. This was his first coherent thought.

The demon raised its left hand - one of the spheres circling it expanded, growing into a circular sigil burning in the air, embroidered with the roman numeral “I,” and spoke, in words they all understood.

“Unseal - Flames of Gehenna.”

The burning sigil expanded, then collapsed inwards, covering the Demon in glowing white lines. They dimmed slowly, like an ember flickering out.

It held a finger up to its lips, and blew outwards. Flames erupted from its mouth, lighting up the cavern and blinding Abey with the sudden brightness and streamed forwards, engulfing Mark in deep crimson fire.

He tossed his sword aside and screamed, then threw himself to the floor and started rolling from side to side, but it was no use. The bloodied flames would not be extinguished. Still screaming, screaming until the air in his lungs would no longer leave him, he crawled towards the Demon and clutched at its feet. Not even looking at him, the Demon kicked him aside, and he tumbled away, blazing with fire, down into the purple, glowing pit.

I will die. This was the second coherent thought to flutter through Abel’s mind. And it will hurt. He looked at Luke, still clutching his head, his eyes squeezed firmly shut in a tight-faced grimace of pain. Mary’s blood had crept towards them and was soaking their cloaks. I don’t want it to hurt. Adrenaline flashed through his body - a gut wrenching impulse propelled him up and to his feet. There was lightning in his stomach, and he felt feverish. His hands shook wildly as he drew his sword from its scabbard. The familiar scent of polished iron steadied his hand. He breathed in.

The Demon raised its finger to its lips again, and blew out. Abey threw himself to the side, rolling away from the flame and its heat as it scorched the stone wall behind him. He recovered to his feet in a low crouch and lunged forwards, covering the distance between them in a moment. The Demon reached for its sword, trying to wrench it out of the scabbard, but it was too late. Abey’s sword cleaved through the dimming air between them, straight through its wrist, sundering its sword hand from its long, purple arm.

The thing gnashed its teeth and swatted him aside with its left hand. Abey ducked and stepped back, circling the Demon. It grimaced and raised its left hand; Abey stepped forwards and attacked, his blows meeting only air as the Demon jumped backwards over the pit. The glowing sphere around its wrist erupted into a sigil - in its center burned the roman numeral “II.”

“Unseal - Rivers of Blood.” The Demon’s eyes glistened, and crimson streaks poured down his face, gathering into twin whips by his side, before lashing out at Abey. The air cracked as they moved - the first strike wrenched the sword from Abey’s hands, and the second caught him straight in the chest, tearing a gash through the thin tunic and rending apart the flesh beneath, but he did not feel the pain he so feared - only a spreading warmth, expanding across his stomach. The whips struck again, tearing at his arms and shoulders. He dropped to the floor and curled into a ball as they struck him, shredding his back and legs into mincemeat, and still, the warmth kept spreading. He was lightheaded. The blows ceased. His body was slick with blood, as if he had just run through a rainstorm, but the water was warm. He tasted iron in the air. Iron tasted like death.

He opened his eyes and came face to face with Mary. Her eyes were still and dull and her mouth hung open, and it was coated in spittle. The bile rose in his stomach again, and the waves of pain sent the contents of his stomach spewing onto the floor. He spat, trying to get the foul taste out of his mouth, and turned his head back to look at the Demon. 

It sat, hunched over, nursing its severed hand, staring at him. Their gazes met. It stood, and drew the blade with its left hand. It dragged against the stone floor as it lumbered towards him. He turned his head back around; he didn’t want to look.

Its shadow fell over him. A longer shadow rose above him.

Abey turned to look at the thing; his eyes met Luke’s, now wide open, still laying where he had fallen minutes earlier.

Luke leapt from the floor and buried his sword in the Demon’s back, collapsing into the blow with the full weight of his small frame. It let out a shriek and whirled around, tossing its sword aside and collapsing on top of Luke. He grunted as its massive weight crushed him into the floor. His panicked eyes caught Abey’s once more before the Demon tore into his neck with its jaws. 

With strength he didn’t have, Abey half-crawled, half-jumped onto the Demon’s back and wrapped his hands around the slick hilt of the sword. Wrapping his legs around its torso, he tore the blade out of the Demon’s back before burying it back  in, again and again, and again, until his hands could not muster the strength to tear the sword out of its body.

All was still. Thoughts flitted through his mind, too confused to grasp a single self-contained idea. What now? He kept repeating to himself, running this question in circles. What now? Now what? Now? How?

Goodbye. He closed his eyes. He was tired, and bleeding, and cold. Outside, the waves lapped gently at the barren coast. In the distance, a patrol followed the marks in the sand, of four horsemen who did not return.

Footsteps clattered in the cave behind Abey. Someone inhaled sharply; strong hands lifted him off the Demon.

“He’s alive!” Someone shouted. “Quickly, he’s lost too much blood.”

“Deidra. Ride back and bring the priest. The breach must be sealed.”

“Did they really kill it?”

“It's dead. Look at his forehead.” Someone brushed Abey’s hair aside.

“This shouldn’t be possible. A rift can’t open here. How long has it been since the War?.”

“We must contact the capital. Send a rider. Secure the town. We will sweep the rest of the caves. Pray this was the only one.”

“Okay. I’ll take the boy with me.”

“Come back with more men. If anything happens to me, you know what to do.”

“We have nobody who has broken the seals… What do you hope to do if there is a whole group of them? What if this was just a scout?”

“Not anymore. The boy must not die.”

“And if it wasn’t alone?”

“We will hold them until you return with the priest. If all else fails, collapse the entrance to the caves and evacuate the town. This time, we are ready. Their days are over; our Dawn has already broken.”