I own nothing.

"Sometimes even to live is an act of courage."
― Seneca


The blood was everywhere. Hot and sticky. Clinging to her skin, slowly consuming her. She was screaming and screaming. To late, to late to do anything. To stop them. It was hard for her to comprehend, their laughter floating around the room. Their faces twisted and contorted. They were demons.

"The girl as well, I'd like the set. She would be such a beautiful addition to our family." The tallest of the demons demanded. His face obscured by shadows, she knew he wore the face of the devil.

"No, please" She whispered. Hot tears poured down her face, sliding down through the dirt and grime that covered her face. They fell in thick blots to the floor. The body of her brother lay a few feet from her. His once pristine blonde hair coated in layer of crimson and soot. He was pale and unmoving, lips the color of stagnant water.

She was alone.

"Come now my darling, it will all be over soon. It's either this or the fire. And this way," he paused and gestured to his companion. " is a new beginning. There is only fire that awaits you outside. They have called for your death my dear. Have you not heard what they call you?" His voice was so smooth, delicate. A demon with the voice of an angel.

She couldn't die, not like this. She felt frightened, but more than that. She was angry. She could feel the warmth spreading through her body. Trembling, she gathered her courage to look around, desperate for anything. The air around her buzzed and she could feel something, but she couldn't focus enough to understand it. Her vision blurred and she had to swollen and shake herself to fight off the blackness. She steered her attention back to the demon that approached her. His fangs barred, ready to make the kill.

Falling to her knees, she begged him. "Please. Don't." He snarled at her in response.

"Please, scream for me." He stalked closer, blood from his first kill dripping from his mouth.

Her fingertips brushed across the end of the broken chair behind her. Her brother had been slammed around after his last defense sword drawn leaving everything in the room in a broken heap. He had done everything he could to save them. All his training as a solider was worthless against them.

The demons before should not be real. Yet here they were. So if they were real, then maybe, just maybe the stories on how to kill them would be too. She closed her eyes and sad a final prayer.

"I bet you taste so sweet, like honey." He yanked her hair so her head snapped up to face him. Their eyes locked, her blood went cold as he licked his lips.

They say that in the moments before someone dies that complete clarity comes to them. The fog in her head lifted, her heart drummed and her blood surged. There is was, her clarity. She had to be strong, she had to survive for her brother, her family.

Survive.

She took a breath and gathered all her strength, the adrenaline pulsed through her veins as she drove the wood into the demon.

One second, two seconds ticked by. He looked at her surprised, unable to fathom how such a weak and pathetic thing had caught him off guard and she had to admit she was just as surprised.

Then as suddenly as it happened he fell back to the ground, roaring and howling out in anguish.

Seizing the moment she turned and fled into the night.