He raced through the damp forest in the dim pre-dawn light. Panic coursed through his veins, wiping away any other emotions and thoughts. They were hunting and he was the prey.

Glancing behind him, wings twitching in agitation, he realized that for now, he was alone. Falling to his knees, he raised his arms and grey wings to the sky, and cried, “’ethe na shel’tan! I can run no longer! Help me!”

A sizzling ball of energy screamed past his upraised left arm, and he caught the distinctive scent of scorched feathers. A fresh wave of fear-laced adrenaline raced through his veins, and he surged to his feet…or tried to. Crippling pain spiked through him, terminating in his left shoulder blade, and driving him back to his knees.

“He won’t help you, you stupid, naïve boy!” spat a grating, deep, multi-toned voice behind him. A hideous being moved into view, one whose face and back were a ruinous mess of scars and fresh scratches. The creature captured his neck from behind in a viselike grip, its fetid breath hot on his face. “Just like He refused to help me. ‘Bow to Me, serve Me, worship Me, or I’ll tear those pretty, precious wings from your back.’ What a cruel, pitiless dictator He is, my former brother, and what a fool you are to follow Him so blindly.”

Emotion surged again, this time as hot, blinding rage, bubbling up from the very core of his soul. “Shi’i khat-’ek!” he screamed in loathing. He leapt to his feet and tore the disgusting being’s claws from his neck, heedless of the agony shooting through his back. Grabbing the foul creature by its rotting arm, he flipped it onto its back and drew his sword from the sheath on his own back. He pressed the bright, shining, holy blade against his foe’s neck, a feral grin spreading across his face. Eyes glowing with wrath, he spat in the vile being’s face with the utmost contempt. “Shi’i khat-‘ek, ne’ether ‘sha! How dare you, you vile, worthless fiend! All He asks for is love and loyalty, all He ever asks! He made you, and all He requests is your respect! And you you disgusting beast, could not even afford Him that.” Holy vindication sparked in his eyes as he raised the blade to the sky, preparing to sever his enemy’s rotting skull from its shoulders.

The creature flinched in anticipation, and then suddenly grinned, its eyes fixed on a point beyond its unaware opponent.

The heavy hilt of a sword came crashing down into the base of his skull. Hot, swirling sparks exploded behind his eyes, and a bolt of pain lashed his back as a dagger struck low and cruel over his kidneys.

The last he saw was a cruel, coldly beautiful face leering down at him, and the last he heard was a smooth, arrogant voice congratulating the rotting thing on a job well done. Then, merciful blackness claimed him.

Zad woke with a cry of pain on his young lips. Hearing his mother’s soft, regular breathing from the next room over, he wiped away the sheen of night sweat from his face with a trembling hand. The action brought a fresh moan, and he craned his neck to glance over at his mattress. A fresh red streak marred the pinstripe sheets. Alarmed, he pushed himself from the bed, and stumbled across the hallway to the tiny bathroom, stripping off his shirt along the way. Flicking on the light, he turned his back to his reflection and peered over one shoulder. So startled was he, that he tripped over the toilet in his haste to better examine himself. A deep gash ran from one hip to the other, exactly where that nightmarish creature’s blade had scored him in his dream. Blistered, raw skin bubbled over his left shoulder blade, and his questing fingers found a tender knot at the base of his skull. Zad leaned his head against the mirror, dark eyes wide with terror, cold fingers clutching desperately at the cross hung about his neck. What’s happening to me? he wondered, his face ashen. What were those…things…and why in the world did I dream I possessed wings?

He closed his eyes and muttered in a strained whisper, in a language he did not even comprehend.

“’ethe na shel’tan…………..”