Manfred took a drag of the cigarette he'd been smoking and watched as the burning embers died between his fingers. He exhaled and watched as a plume of smoke erupted in to the cold winter air. He shook his head at the unfortunate habit in which he had developed as his new found endowment continued to strengthen.

He flicked it away with one sharp turn of his fingers and turned to the emergency exit doors on the roof of Bloor's Academy. He had never really understood why anyone would need an emergency exit on an upper floor but it made a good thinking place. The atmosphere was so calm, unlike the halls of Bloor's.

Upon opening the doors, he was greeted by Dagbert, whose fist was raised to knock on the cold metal or the exit. He stumbled slightly back but for a fraction of a second before he regained his footing and turned himself from the cold, cascading from the door. "Your grandfather needs you...Claims it's something important." he declared, holding himself up in that self-important way he had.

He rolled his eyes, for his annoyance with Dagbert grew every day. He stepped inside and trudged down the stairs of the Music Tower, only stopping when he reached the door to his grandfather's chamber. He blinked at his reflection in the mirror, presented so one could freshen up before seeing the ancient old man. Pink flecks were visible on his cheeks from the cold, but looked more like a result of tears. He hadn't looked so flushed since the abandonment of his mother. He rubbed at his skin, trying to smooth out the embarrassment. His green eyes stood out in contrast to red dots on his cheeks, reminding him of something that would be displayed during the Christmas season. He ruffled his short black hair and looked awkwardly at the place where his soul patch had once been. Working at the school, he had been forced to take part in school conduct, ergo, the soul patch goes. The skin where it once had been was still smooth from the shaver. Once again he shook his head.

After making sure all was in place, he pushed past the door to the smell of cheap peppermint and smoke, but the most prominent of the scents was that of old person. Whereas some people like the smell, Manfred found it to be, almost, intolerable. Although Manfred could not see his grandfather, he knew he was there in that beat up old chair he was always in, wheezing uncontrollably. Smoke dripped eerily from the fire and crept around Manfred's ankles, willing him to come in, and he accepted the offer.

Stepping in closer, he found that one of the faces residing in the darkness was new. It was a man who looked to be about the same age as his grandfather, bent over and haggard. His breath came in an unsteady stream of coughs and sniffles. His teeth resembled that of a wolf, sharp and bloodthirsty. His eyes were black as coal, similar to the color Manfred's became when he hypnotized someone, and large, ugly, nickel sized liver marks covered his face, but were almost masked by the bizarre darkness of his skin., He wore a beaten assortment of cloths, which might have been a robe. His fingers curled over a cane, and long discolored finger nails cut into his palm.

XXX Manfred's POV XXX

"Come closer, boy, so Milon may have a look at you." Huffed my grandfather. I took a few small steps toward the man, who then hobbled the rest of the way over to me. Taking my arm in his freezing hands, he pulled my closer until I could smell the rancid fumes of his breath.

"Good..." he sneered, "Very good."

"May I ask what is going on?" I enquired.

"This," my grandfather murmured, "is high priest Milon, of the temple of Fire. Borlath worshipers, boy."

With raised eyebrow, I stepped back from the sagely looking man and cringed as his fingernails released my skin, leaving jagged crescent moons emblazoned there. "And what does this have to do with me?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"You, dear boy, are the most likely downer to the spirit of Borlath." He said, brushing this aside as if I had already consented to such a thing.

"What?" I nearly screeched after a small pause.

"It is time." Said the golden aged priest. "If we are to do this we must begin now."

My Grandfather nodded and I backed away. The old man grabbed, once more, onto my arm, but this time, his nails cut through my flesh, and he held on with strength, I never could have imagined. Pushing me onto my grandfathers table, I was held down by Dagbert, and the force of the twins minds combined. I was held immobile. I attempted to thrash and kick but was unable to do any such thing. I searched to room for help. My eyes landed on my father, but as soon as our eyes met, he looked away. I saw the shame flash past his eyes, probably guessing what my mother would say.

The once again, the had touched me and the chill of it swept through my body. At once I felt like all of the skin on my body was beginning to lift and tear, and I cried out, barging with god for help.

"Drops of blood shed, and fall,

Spead and infect..." the old man was losing his mind, spilling out, were these words from his mouth.

"...Drops of Blood,

Burst to Flame,

Incontrovertible,

Inescapable..." I felt as if my head was going to implode.

"...Come to us,

And fulfill your will." As these last words poured from his mouth, I felt death breathe it's shallow breath on my heart and suck the air from my lungs. White hot pokers tore into my very flesh and tortured me and then blackness.