The frost kissed grass gleamed in the silver light from the bloated moon. Caesar snorted, puffs from his hot breath bursting from his flared velvet nostrils. The ride had been hard, but it was much needed. Another round would do no good for the horse, or the dark figure upon his proud back. If his master were to push him further, the horse would possibly be injured. This did nothing to quell the mood the man was in, but his horse meant everything to him. The stallion was the only thing to keep him sane. His only friend.

The only one who could look upon his face and not flee in fear.

He hadn't always been as he was now. He had been a star, an award-winning professional showered with money and gold. He had found his niche when the niche was rich and full. He could almost hear the crowd among the silence of the night. Oh, how he used to love it. No matter what he had done in the past, people had loved him. They had thought him human.

It had been ten years since his last normal glance in the mirror. He had loved his good looks, his ego, and his way with the ladies. However, all good things come to an end for a man with his type of personality. Of course, others deemed him high upon his own horse. That was only because, at the time, he believed he had everything. He was a god and gods didn't ever fall from their thrones.

Oh, how wrong he had been.

Ten years ago, on his twentieth birthday, his lavish estate had been alive with vibrant party goers as they splashed booze upon the fancy marble countertops of his kitchen. The occasion had also been a celebration of the many wins he had acquired. Whether it be for his birthday or for his accomplishments, the celebration deemed remarkable nonetheless. Many people he had acquaintances with only through school ambled down the halls. He had never seen those people in any other light than that of a number or a brief name.

She was there, however, and he was smitten in the blink of her deep green gaze. The emerald vixen had been strapped to the nines, looking a perfect ten among the crowd. Her eyes undressed him, and he wanted nothing more than to do the same in person. However cocky he was, a decrepit man he was not. He was still a gentleman through it all, and still was despite everything that had happened.

The emerald goddess had been named Anna. Red flaming curls tumbled down past her shoulders to fall in waves of fire down her back. She was smaller than him, dainty yet strong. He knew she could hold her own and it intrigued him. She was beautiful, and he wanted her. A number exchange, numerous dates, and many kisses later, and they were inseparable. She loved him. He thought he loved her. Had he any idea of love at the time, he would have known he had not been capable of it with her. Everything leading up to such a thing had been a blur and, to be honest, he had no idea where his head had been.

In truth, it had not been the one upon his shoulders that had done much thinking.

Before the girl, he had furthered his trophy trove by ten-fold. Along with this, his ego had only grown. His knowledge dampened to his heightened sense of self-confidence. He was professional in whatever he decided to dabble in that week. Western games, dressage, English, hunter under saddle, and many more equestrian type events littered the brass name plates of many a plaque or trophy. Sums of money piled within his pockets as he hauled his priceless horses to and from these said events.

Anna continued to see him, but only when he allowed it in his schedule. \ She was generous, kind, and much different than what he had dealt with before. She was everything he was not. He knew nothing of commitment, of relationships or how to love. This was only because of his past and the new sense that he could not be tamed. Because of his lack of a home life, he was a monster within.

Despite his attitude, Anna had stayed. She loved horses and had loved working with them as much as he did. While he was away, she would care for the ones he hadn't taken with him. Her generosity had gone unnoticed but at the time, he didn't care. He rolled in the dough, walked among the many faces of presidents, and lathered himself with riches. A god did not fall from his throne, he would always tell himself. No matter what mortal beauty threw herself at his feet.

He had not known love. He had only known pleasure, lust, and fame. Erik was a man of money and when he was not, he was the man of the hour. While adventuring across the country, he felt the need to frequent the alleys and darkness to release his torment. The females he paid were only allowed to do as he said, and he never allowed them above the waist. Before long, even he grew bored.

Until one day, when he found himself gazing into the pericing emeralds of Anna. Had he known love and had he realized the truth behind the girl, he would have never placed himself in such a situation. But he did and he realized there was much more to the girl than what met the eyes.

She had caught him fooling around. The air had been charged with anger and rage, his foolish nature believing it to be nothing more than the changing of the wind. He was an imbacile, slow to catch on the fact that the woman who loved him had been nothing less of magical.

He didn't believe in magic, though. Or, at least, he thought he didn't. Anna had proved him wrong. She was a witch, the ancient kind that had been foolish enough to fall for a womanizing scoundrel. Red flooded her vison and she had known to do only one thing.

Enact revenge.

So, in his mansion, she had confronted him. It wasn't mere words that did this, but pure power. It was enough to shake the ground, to vibrate the walls, and send objects zooming violently all around them. He had just returned from one of his various rodeo trips and she had been given information anonymously of his recent actions. As soon as she heard this, she dove into researching his various activities. A long line of evils were to follow and she knew immediately he had to be stopped.

"Why didn't you just break up with me?" Anna screamed at the man she had loved.

A sheepish grin slid across his handsome features. If she hadn't been so angry, she would have fallen for him once again. "What are you talking about?"

Her phone screen illuminated the pictures and witness accounts of his treachery. His face paled and she narrowed her eyes. "Why did you keep me handing on like this?"

"Because I love you?" He shrugged.

She laughed despite everything. "You? Love? You have no idea what it is. If you loved me, you would have remained faithful."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He foolishly denied. The air sparked with a sudden energy he couldn't identify. It scared him, but he had too much else to do to worry about this.

"Deny it, that's fine." She spat. "But I can't let you get away with such a thing. Because I know you will do it again. You will never change."

"I don't have time for this." He snorted, turning his shoulders away and grabbing his jacket. "I'm leaving, and I don't want to see you here anymore. We are over."

The air suddenly chilled. The icy fingers of cold wrapped themselves around him, clutching his heart and squeezing. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. All he could do was hear her voice and feel the rage boiling forth from her very soul.

"You slave to fashion and lust," She hissed, emeralds alight with the fires of hate. Her voice was unearthly, shaking the very boards of the floor beneath his feet. "I pity you. Shall you brandish the nastiness within your soul on the very face that others find beautiful."

He turned, blinking back the fogginess threatening to blind him. "What are you talking about? What are you doing to me?"

"May God grant someone the courage to show you what love really means and may you learn to sacrifice in the name of it. Then, and only then, will you become yourself again."

"Stop," he begged, the pain splitting him in two. "Please stop this. It hurts."

She continued, "May this pain remind you of what you have done and let the shadows be forever your friend."

And just like that, he was ruined, and Anna was gone. Nothing could fix what she had done. No one would look at him the same. For ten years, he had found no one particularly fancied a face such as his. Had he glanced in a mirror to see the witches handy work? Of course, he had. Those mirrors were broken now or ripped from the walls of his lifeless home. The halls no longer blazed with vibrant parties or humans in general. They were shrouded in shadow.

In a fit of rage, he had sold his horses. They reminded him of his past, the wound still deep and sensitive. The only items to remain were the glittering trophies, saddles, and other tack. Those he had packed away and hidden or hung in one of the various empty rooms of his mansion. The stables on the grounds had rotted with disuse and the pastures drowned in weeds unsprayed. For ten years, he had no interest in dipping back into what gave him life. The shadows consumed his soul and everything he ever loved.

For the next ten years, he only kept to the shadows. He chose to never step into the sun, to never hear the hoofbeats of a horse, or even gaze at one. It was too painful, too much of a reminder of who he had been and what had gotten him into his cursed situation. Had he realized his actions long ago, he would be normal. Unscathed. Not ugly.

He was a monster. A demon fallen from grace. His throne he so heavily believed would never fall crumbled into dust beneath him. The glittering halls of his ego were not filled with cobwebs as thick as the ones draped over his soul. The heart beating within his chest blackened like the char. In no longer would beat for anything or anyone.

For some unknown reason, a horse had found him. It was spur of the moment, a purchase he had made on a whim. Nadir, one of the only other people to stay in his life after the occurrence happened, had suggested he get into something that did not require much time outside. A horse was far from everyone's mind, but it just happened. He had sworn himself to living in darkness, but the darkness was not entirely him.

His home had no stables anymore. Time had consumed them. Erik had money, though. Therefore, to ensure he knew his best four-legged friend was given the upmost care, he bought a stable. Cesar stayed in the care of a very trusting woman by the name of Mrs. Giry. He only called her thus, her demeanor more like that of a strict mother. In truth, he feared her which was something he never would admit. She took excellent care of his horse, though, through the communication of text message or notes placed in his stall.

Managing the stable was entirely up to her. He was no business man; therefore, she would be the one to deal with hiring and firing as well as paying employees. He would be given full access when he wanted, and she would oversee his horse. There was to be no one else caring for the animal but him and her. That would be final.

When she suggested one day to lease out stalls for patrons, he had not been fancying the idea. That would intrude upon his privacy and his privacy he coveted as much as the care for his horse. He had agreed to the idea on one condition: he would not deal directly with patrons. That was Mrs. Giry's job.

Erik Labas slowed his black stallion to an unhurried walk. The beast's sides heaved from the demanding workout. His owner's own sides heaved as well. Warm breathes escaped the nose hole of the mask covering the left side of his face. Its bone white starkness contrast against the darkness of the night. However, if he were to have a black one, he would have worn it more often. It wasn't everyday people made face formed masks for a face like his.

"She told me to learn how to love," The man laughed within the darkened arena within the stables. The deep mirth echoed against the walls. "Who could ever learn to love a monster such as me?"

After their ride, Erik returned his steed to his rightful stall. Placing hay within the feeder and brushing him down under the soft glow of an incandescent light, the man finally quit for the night. He scrawled quick instructions for Mrs. Giry to bide in the morning. He was off after that, midnight falling fast and cold on the fall day. He had stayed out too late yet again, but he needed it. He thoughts had been plagued of a pair of chocolate eyes. For some reason, they called to him.

They told him he was not alone even though everyday he lived he was as such.

Still, the crisp air was enough to drive the thoughts away. No one would ever know he had been there and Mrs. Giry told not a soul of nightly ventures. The only time he could ride was at night. Avoiding the prying eyes of those who did not understand his situation was enough to keep him from walking out into daylight. Besides, he had all the money he could live from for as long as he did that. So, no job was needed. Seeing the sunlight was not in his schedule.

His mind strayed to the dreams of those chocolate brown eyes behind the darkness of his eyelids while he opened the door to his truck and turned the key. The engine roared to life and the sleek black vehicle exited the stable grounds. He closed the gate neatly behind him and locked it back to where it had been. Then, he was away to his dark sanctuary.

That night, he woke from a restless slumber with cold beads of sweat upon his brow. Chocolate browns blinked at him through the shrouds of shadows bathing his dreams. Accompanying them was the most beatific voice he had ever heard. He had never heard such a thing before and this had been the first time the dream had thrust him awake so violently.

A hot tear strolled down his face. He reached up to touch his cheek with the tips of his fingers but winced as the nasty skin met the sensitive pads. If the person within his dreams, the Angel of Music he swore divine was real, he hoped to never meet them.

He was all alone. Shunned by the multitude and driven to solitude. No one would listen to his turmoil, but he felt as if the one in his dreams would. If God could only grant them the courage to do so, maybe they could show him he was not a slave to the shadow.

But then, who could ever learn to love a monster.