Darkness. Darkness and numbness. Those were the first two coherent thoughts in Lyional’s mind. He didn’t know where he was;he was toying with him again. Hiding him away, torturing him, pushing him well beyond the limits of both his mind and body. It was an endless game of cat and mouse between to the two, and very painful game for the mouse it was. He was bleeding, he was beaten, he was scarred, he very well many be broken, but none of this satisfied him. What he wanted in the first place, Lyional had no clue.

The darkness was more than welcome; it reminded Lyional of sleep. Oh how he wished he could sleep. Enjoy the peaceful tranquility of slumber for once in his life. Darkness also hid his wounds, and since that last attack had left Lyional numb he wouldn’t have to deal with them.

He opened his eyes only to shut them again. The dark was too complete and hurt his eyes. He shifted, and found he was tied down and his shirt was missing; probably shredded in that last attack. The ropes binding him were those sharp, metal like wire ropes he loved. With every breath it cut more and more into his skin. He was lying on his back, wings bent under him at an awkward angle, he was sure at least one was broken. It didn’t matter, though. He’d heal, or if for some unexplainable, unfathomable reason He showed him kindness, hewould kill him. This game was getting wearisome. Even since his fall, he has haunted him. There was no escaping it. He seemed to be everywhere at once. Why he choice Lyional to torture, he had no clue.

“Child,” his icy voice called through the darkness. He was taunting him. “Child,” he called again, “Do you know where you are?”

Lyional didn’t respond, he was starting to feel light headed because of the blood loss. Maybe...hopefully...he’d die. Just a little longer, maybe he wouldn’t notice...maybe...

“CHILD!” he screamed, and a searing pain shot its way through Lyional’s body. “The game has yet to be finished, heal yourself, now!”

The man’s body was still shaking from the attack. So close to death...so close, but he knew now. Maybe that was why Lyional was a target, He wanted prey that would never die. That could be cut, beaten, whipped, tortured, slashed, burned and pierced; who could bleed and bruise and pass out, but never die. Slowly Lyional allowed his body’s natural magic to do its work. It crawled through him, healing cuts, stitching gashes, and soothing bruises.

“Good,” he whispered, mocking how a mother might praise a child.

Having regained senses, Lyional fully opened his eyes to see if he could maybe strain through the darkness to make out his surroundings. Even in fully health again, he was met with the same inky, complete darkness. He shifted against the ropes, ignoring the cuts they caused as he did.

“Signs of life!” the voice laughed, “are we ready to play now, child?”

Feeling more defiant, Lyional replied, “Why is it you call me that? I do have a name, you know. It’s Lyional!” he shouted into the darkness, bravely.

“I knew this. Do you think I care? To me you are only prey. Something to play with then discard. Fortunately for you, I’m not bored yet.” A cool breath of wind passed by him and Lyional shivered, knowing that he was in the wind. He was everywhere, at least when one was in his playroom.

He could not think of what to say to the voice. A slue of cures and childish names came to mind, but Lyional held his tongue. He was still trying to squirm his way out of the rope and was still failing. There was a silence, but Lyional still knew he was there; he was waiting for him to speak. He would sit there in the silence, and lure him into talking. It was what always happened. Lyional tried to stay quiet and win the silly game, but gave up.

“What is your name?” he questioned. It wasn’t like he cared but the quiet was making his ears ring. He had to say something.

“Why is it you ask now?” the voice chuckled, “why not day and day ago when I first caught you? Curious as to who the man behind the mask is, eh? Want to know who it is that causes this pain?” as if accenting a point the same searing pain ripped through Lyional’s body and he gasped. His body was still trembling when he answered.

“Does a man not have the right to know the name of his capture?” he whispered. His fight against the wire rope was abandoned and he now laid limply on the floor.

“Right? Ha, hardly. But since you are a curious child... Let it be known,” his voice boomed dramatically, “you torture’s name, feared among men and gods alike is Spindal.” As the syllables echoed in the shadows, Lyional’s heart skipped and he felt chilled to the bone. He knew of that name. It was true, even in the heavens it was a name mentioned only in hushed whispers. But Lyional could not let this fear be known. No. Never.

“Really,” the man said bravely, “I’ve never heard it.” He closed his eyes and tried to ready himself for the pain...but it never came. There was a slight silence before Spindal’s cruel laughter rang throughout the abyss.

“You’re quivering betrays the truth, Child,” he laughed. “You know of me, I know you do. You feared me before this. You really understand the honor of being my prey, now don’t you?”

Knowing his poorly hid bluff was up Lyional changed topics, wishing he had never asked the voice’s name. Now he knew there was no escape, ever. He was doomed to follow an endless, painful, dark path for the rest of time or until Spindal grew bored. Lyional hoped for the latter. A painful death is better than dying bit by bit every day but never allow the privilege of death.

“Why do you call me that? I am not a child,” he shouted, trying to mask pain with annoyance.

“You are a child of the light, correct? You are an angel.” As the final word left his mouth Lyional thought the voice sounded like the word its self was poison.

“I fell,” Lyional said softly.

“Of course you did, and I thank you. Had you not I would have never gotten such a wonderful new toy.”

Lyional was quiet, memories of his fall from heaven. It really hadn’t been long weeks? Days? He didn’t know. Most people didn’t understand that a fall was just that. A fall. There was much more than disgrace to it. An angel was lucky if they survived. Lyional still couldn’t remember how he survived. It was still a blur.

The young man was so lost in his thoughts; trying to recall the details of his fall that he didn’t notice the creeping black, thorny vines slowly nearing him from ever direction. He did notice, however when the inky darkness around him faded into a dull gray.

Lyional barely had time to yell before he felt himself falling. The grey had turned into a dreary sky and he suddenly found himself falling. The sharp wires around him snapped and he quickly began to flap his large wings, desperate to escape. He was only looking up through the gray sky where the faint brightness of a sun could be seen.

But the vines that had been creeping near before had become the dead limbs of a tree, tall enough to reach out and wrap a thorny branch around the fleeing angel’s neck.

Lyional was falling , yanked down by the tree. He tried again to fight his way up but the limbs sprung to life, wrapping themselves around his wings tightly. They continued to attack and wrap around until, Lyional was hanging limply by only his wings; which looked as though they were incased in a cocoon of sticks.

The pain was unbelievable; Lyional was sure one of his wings was simply going to rip right off. This thought alone kept him still, for fear of causing damage to his wings. He knew he could heal, but the idea of the wing being ripped from his back was too much.

His laughter suddenly rung through out the room. Actually Lyional wasn’t sure where he was. All he could see for miles was a field of dead grass. He though he could make out the shape of a few dead trees in the distance, but with the misty haze of the field he wasn’t sure. The tree he was confined in seemed to be the only inhabitant of the field.

“Child, child, thinking you could escape. How foolish, yet, how interesting...” Lyional glanced around the field. The voice. It was Spindal’s, but it didn’t hold that eerie tone of being all around him. It seemed to be coming from a particular place. The young man strained through the haze of the field, which seemed to be growing thicker by the second, but he saw no one.

The tree limbs wrapped around his wings tightened and Lyional let out a pained gasp. The limbs continued to tighten until Lyional could feel blood trickling from his back where his wings were slowly being pulled from his body. Branches suddenly took hold of Lyional’s ankles and started to pull him down, placing more and more stress on his wing joints.

The branches continued the tighten and pull until Lyional screamed in agony as his right wing yielded to the stress and was slowly torn from his body. Even louder than his screams somehow, the angel heard Spindal’s laughter. It sounded so close. So human like. The branches seemed empowered by the laughter and the pulling was harsher. There was a searing pain and blinding lights and suddenly Lyional was only hanging by one wing. He could feel the blood spilling from his back, as his body was shaking. Now that he was hanging by only on wing, the demonic vines didn’t have to pull much longer until Lyional was crying in fear and pain as he fell to the ground.

His back hit the ground, snapping his neck back so forcefully, Lyional was sure he was going to die. But just as his vision went black he felt magic wash over him. It wasn’t his. It was too powerful and too dark to be his. Spindal was healing him. Lyional was sprawled on the ground, body shaking from the pain. He wanted now more than ever to pass out and die. Just to be done with it all.

Glancing up he saw his wings still encased in the cocoon of branches. His stomach reeled when he saw the chucks of skin still visible on the joints of the wings. His vison was blurring again, the pain was too much. Wings were magically bound to an angel; there was no pain in the world like having one’s wings ripped from their back.

Lyional knew that if he survived, the healing to reattach his wings was going to be almost as painful as losing them. He glanced down from the tree and something standing next to the truck of the large tree caught his eyes.

At first he wasn’t sure what it was; his vision was so blurred and distorted from the pain, but as he focused in he saw it was a person, so he assumed. It was wearing a large hooded cloak that blended perfectly with the dreary background.

“I’ve always wondered if wings could be torn from an angel. It looks like magnificent pain,” the figure said with a slight laugh. Even with Lyional’s pained hazed mind he was able to figure it out. That voice... It was Spindal. Seeing him like this was so strange and unnerving. He was so human like, even with the dark cloak that seemed to change as he moved, always matching the things around him. Spindal moved over to where Lyional was laying in the dead grass. He seemed to glide rather than walk. Lyional tried to crawl away but he wasn’t even able to sit up.

“Well,” Spindal asked, as he knelt down next to the injured angel, “What does the pain feel like? Is it so great it is unspeakable? What dose it feel like?” Lyional only closed his eyes, ignoring the questions. He wanted to sleep– no– he wanted to die.

His eyes shot open, however when a searing hot pain passed through his body. He jumped and found a pale thin figure pressed to his check. Spindal was laughing.

“Now, now. As I said before, the game is not over,” Spindal said as his finger moved from Lyional’s check and the pain suddenly stopped.

“L– leave me alone,” Lyional managed to whisper. He tried to roll away from the evil man, but was only able to roll on to his stomach before pain seared through him as his agitated the large wounds from his wings. Spindal only laughed.

“Come now child, you can’t escape me,” he cooed. Lyional screamed at the icy touch on his back. “Don’t you realize what a gift such pain is?” His finger moved to the gashes just below Lyional’s shoulder blades. He paused before digging his finger into the wound. Lyional couldn’t move, he couldn’t even scream. Spindal was laughing like mad. The angel’s pain was so complete he could almost feel it. Spindal began digging in and scrapping with both his hand until the angel was gasping and begging for death. This pain. An angel’s pain. It was so unbelievably complete.

Spindal’s hands were covered in blood when he finally relented. Lyional was still, as though dead. His eyes were wide and clouded and his mouth was open, searching for his voice. He wanted to pass out at the least, but every time he started to black out Spindal would step in.

“Child. . .” Spindal began, but quickly paused, as though he was at a loss for words; something that Lyional could never recall happening. He always seemed smooth, cool, in control. Even something as simple as not knowing what to say next was a big deal. Spindal’s boney hand reached out and brush over Lyional’s face. The young man jerked at the pain of the touch, but was silent. The demon whispered something under his breath before quickly standing up. He seemed to have regained his power of speech as he did so.

“The light is dawning in your world...not even your world, their world...” Spindal said glancing at the hazy skies. The faint light of a sun that was visible before was almost completely gone. “Never the less, I suppose, for tonight, the game is over,” Spindal paused and glanced down at the broken angel. “Begone with you!” he screamed and kicked Lyional hard. Magical connection were severed and Lyional blacked out.

He awoke a scream of terror and pain on his lips. He covered his month hopping none of the others had heard. He was back home. Well his home on earth, anyway. He sat up in his bed, ignoring the ache in his back. Though in this slightly altered more human friendly body his wings were not visible he could still feel the pains of his body’s magic working hard to heal him.

He sighed after a moment, figuring since no one had come bursting into his room that he hadn’t woken anyone. He laid down, trying to ignore the aches and pains of invisible wounds.

‘Spindal,’ Lyional thought to himself, ‘so that’s who you are...’ He rolled over, fighting to forget the memories of the last encounter with that man...demon...whatever he was. From the small window he saw the sun slowly rising. Spindal had returned him early. He closed his eyes gratefully and enjoy his first bit of true sleep since his fall.