My heart was pounding so much it hurt. I had never before been so terrified, and if the monks knew what I was feeling, I would not see the light outside for a week. I'd been trained to never show emotion, to react to anything and everything by not reacting at all. But this scene that was before me... I had no idea what to do.

There was a voice calling out to me-multiple voices. They sounded almost... like reptiles speaking to me, though I knew that it wasn't possible. The voices were raspy and dark, and they were all speaking in the same tone of voice, all saying the same words. Through it all, one voice stood out. It was dark and powerful and it didn't sound reptilian, but it sounded powerful, and evil.

The Gem was born through evil's fire,

There was fire everywhere, everything was burning. My home, Azarath, was set aflame, and all the people were turning to stone or burning along with the city, slowly and painfully. I watched my people scream. My mother, Arella, was holding my younger sister craddled in one arm, rushing towards me, as her body slowly solidified. Her hand was outstretched towards me, her fingers reaching to grasp my skin, and she cried out my name-Raven-before she turned to stone, her eyes forever more to gaze in this direction with a look of utter hopelessness of being unable to protect her child, with that solid tear stuck rolling down her face.

The Gem shall be his portal,

I turned around and looked at all the angles, chaos everywhere I looked. Lava was spewing from large craters and cracks that were formed in the ground. Hot ashes and clouds of black filled the sky, and the gases that filled the air along with the smoke made it so that I couldn't breathe. I was suffocating. Buildings were crumpling and toppled over, flinging more dust and rocks and debris throughout the surrounding vicinity. I watched the temple of Azarath fall.

He comes to claim,

The ground was shaking violently and I found I could no longer stand. As I fell unto my hands and knees, I heard booming, resounding cracks of laughter that seemed to cause the earth to quake more. White ghost creatures seemed to fly around as if the were reapers, holding long scythes that reached to decapitate anyone who hadn't yet died. Other creatures made of lava and flame and stone seemed to appear from the ground, holding nothing, but looking menacing. An uncountable army of transparent ghosts and burning death walking around, mouths open in silent laughter as they tortured the remaining number of people. Lightning crashed in the sky, and the air was filled with screaming, heat, pain, and death. I got up from my feet, looked around me once more, and I ran. Tears of fear and shame fell from my face, and I watched a child my age who attempted to run, as I did, become impaled by shattered glass that flew from a broken window. Blood and bodies littered the streets, making me slip and stumble and fall, and yet, my feet still carried me, ever faster, picking me up from the ground, running from this fear, the laughter from that unknown voice and its army following me as I ran.

He comes to sire,

Suddenly I am stopped by a large, red hand that comes down from the sky and grips me so that my head is free, and lifts me up high into the air. Blood seems to rush into my head at the movement and I become instantly dizzy. My view is of Azarath burning, of Azarath falling, and of its people dying and dead. I am brought up before a large, demonic face, grinning at me with teeth like sharp needles, a long, white mane of hair, and four charged red eyes. The large thing holding me was greater in stature than even the tallest of buildings in Azarath, and had pointed antlers and ears. Looking at this red monstrosity, my eyes widened, and my attempts at breaking its grip on me were stilled. It's laughter chilled me to my core, and with this being I now knew true terror, and yet, at the same time, I've never felt as protected and coveted. The creature looked at me as if I were some big secret, something precious and dangerous that needed to be protected. And the mouth of this great being opened and everything else was silent, no burning noises, no screams, just his resounding voice as he finished what the others had begun.

The end of all things mortal.

Everything else was stilled, and then slowly dissappeared and became black to the point where it was just me and this monster illuminated without light in an empty sea of nothingness. It seemed to be watching me closely, it's observant red eyes seeming to be searching for something, though its demonic grin never fell from its face. It's voice was the evil one that I heard, and it spoke as if it were used to holding so much power over everything and nothing stood in its way.

So you are the chosen.

His voice was loud, like a thunder crack, and I found myself shaking in his grasp, my eyes wide and my mouth slightly agape. But as I continued to stare at this creature, I was becoming less and less afraid and more comfortable with it. Looking at this creature I felt accepted and safe, and like I belonged, like I had a purpose to life other than just to exist with no emotion. The creature, after a moment, brought me closer to it's open gazing, almost as if it were curious about my appearance and stature.

You don't appear to be much, child, but that makes who you are all the more dangerous, I suppose. You hold the element of surprise, proven because you have clearly surprised me, and few manage to do that and still live. People will underestimate you, as I have. Add that to the amount of power of which you contain through your bloodlines, and to all mortals and immortals alike, you are a force to be reckoned with.

I made my face become blank again, although now my curiosity was spiked. What does this creature mean by saying that I have power? I mean, yes, I am empathetic, but Arella is too, so it made sense for me to be like her. Is that what it is talking about? The creature seemed to watch for my reaction, or lack of one, to his words. Something seemed to click in its mind before he voiced his thoughts to me.

You do not know of who and what I am, do you?

I had plenty of guesses, but not any of them was I sure about. I was, after all, only eight years old here. But I had been trained and well taught by the monks for a long while now, for many years, and so one thing I knew for certain.

"You are a demon."

My voice cracked and sounded weak and tiny in comparison, and again the creature before me shook the earth with his booming laughter.

Yes, child, I am a demon. In fact, I am much more than just a demon.

The demon moved the fist that held me up closer to his face, making me begin to feel fear again.

I am the high demon lord Trigon, but what is more-

I was now held directly in front of one of his burning eyes, and in them I could see and hear the billions of captured, tormented and tortured souls in hell, as if they were all contained within this being. This only made me interested, it made me feel like I was simply observing something like a play or an experiment because I was outside looking in. Because of his eyes that watched me, I knew his next words would terrify me more.

I am your father, and you and I together will cause the end to all worlds.

My... my father? My father is a demon? My father is the high demon lord Trigon the Terrible?

You are destined for this greatness that you have already witnessed in this dream-you are destined for that honor of destruction. You will make rivers of blood to flood the world we will create, together we will build mountains of bodies of stone. With you by my side, Raven, there is no world, no universe, no dimension that we can't conquer. People will fall at our feet, praising us and our actions before we grant them their death. They will plead to you to give them that honor in person, Raven, they will scream your name. Can you imagine the amount of power we'll have together?

I-no. No no no no no. I can't have been born to do something so... so horrific and... and evil and disgusting and terrible. I can not have been born to just do that to my people, and to other people and other worlds and nations. This creature was lying to me. This was all just a dream-it can't have been real.

You are my favorite and best creation, daughter, there is no other quite like you. And Raven...

My throat closed up as I watched its face form into a cruel, sickening grin. As it spoke its last words to me, I saw its hands glow with red energy and I felt it burn my skin-the pain was so intense. Coupled with the other things I had witnessed on Azarath, and the fact that I had watched my mother and baby sister be turned to stone, I couldn't help but scream. I screamed with all the air I had left in my body-the burning scorched me to my inside, it felt like this creature that I felt safe with was boiling my blood and bones and insides. I had never shown such emotion, nor have I ever felt it, but my flesh felt like it was melting off. I thought for sure that it was now I that was on fire.

I am coming for you.

Before I blacked out, I saw red glowing marks appear on my skin, and on my hands I saw the mark of Scath.

I wasn't sure what woke the monks up, me screaming in terror and thrashing about in my small bunk, or my powers acting up from my emotions. Either way, I wasn't expecting it when a small troop of Azarathian monks broke down my bedroom door and forced their way into my room holding wooden staffs and, one, a lantern. It was their noise and not my dreams or terror that awoke me.

And though I could hear their voices, ordering me to calm down, commanding me to control my emotions, I could not see them. Still, was I, stuck in my nightmare. It had seemed so real. I could still see Azarath burning in my eyes, I could see everything I had ever known falling and fading away. I could see the mark of Scath burning like everything else in my skin, and glowing as hot coals do in a fireplace, with a faint power unlike any I have known.

I've had this nightmare continuously since I was eight, or nine, which is why I appeared that age in the dream. And though I've had this dream time and again over the past few years, and know exactly what is to happen, I can not help myself from feeling any less terrified. One will tend to forget that which they already know in a moment of true fear and terror.

It took one of the monks slapping me across the face for me to "wake up" and stop screaming. As my eyes readjusted to the darkness and plainness that was my room, I watched the majority of the monks leave, realizing that it was just another one of my dreams, another night-terror of Azarath falling.

One of the monks, presumably the one that slapped me, grabbed my arm and dragged me out of my bunk. They had warned me of the next time that something like this happened. I should not disobey the High Order of Azarath, or the ruling of the monks, no matter what the circumstance. And now I had a price to pay for my disobedience, one that I've paid many times before in each of their attempts to break me.

"Come, demon, it is time to cleanse your tainted spirit."

The monk dragged me through the empty halls of the temple of Azarath, everyone except those on duty were asleep. The monk's heavy footsteps pounded against the hard tiles of the temple, stomping upon it as if in anger. But I had long since learned that "all monks in the temple of Azarath have all attained total peace and logic in their minds." In other words, the monks in the temple all supposedly have near-total control over their emotions, though this monk dragging me painfully by the arm makes me think otherwise.

We stopped before a heavily wooded door with an iron cast handle, moonlight poured in from various windows in the hall, making everything seem blue-white in appearance. The monk that had brought me to this very familiar door before me pounded upon it, very much adding to my suspicions that this monk could not, like I, control his or her anger (the hood of the monk was up and covered the monks body, I could not tell its gender). As the door opened, the monk stopped its insistent pounding.

"What is it this time?"

Another familiar thing stood before me, Azar, the high priestess of the temple of Azarath. Clad in a loose robe with silver markings, Azar had clearly not been asleep thus far tonight. Her eyes gazed towards me as she asked her question, understanding and acceptance showing in them.

"Again, Raven? Another nightmare?"

Her voice was tired, which only she was allowed to show. Everyone else at this temple strived to achieve the kind of control that Azar had, where she held no evil or darkness inside her body, and her powers were not affected by her emotions. She could show emotion.

I nodded stiffly to her in response.

"Mistress Azar, please forgive our intrusion upon this, the most atrocious of hours of the night." The monks voice was that of a mans, and came out silky smooth, like he was trying to flatter her and push things towards his favor, whatever his favor was. Azar must have noticed this also, for she raised her eyebrows at the monk almost in disbelief.

"It really is no bother, Samuel. After all, some do need a strong hand of guidance more than others." I could hear that tone in her voice, the one that sounded like, 'I really don't like you, and I really don't want to sound like this, but it is protocol.'

I shivered standing there, though it was another thing that wasn't allowed, because the temple has no glass to cover its windows and I was cold. The idea was that there was nothing to hide in the temple, and that it was open to all believers, both human and not, and that the temple was a safe sanctuary to all. The cool night air I could feel through my thin nightgown, as I had been brought from my room before I had the chance to change. Being cold was a weakness, and shivering was a sign of that weakness, and a show of emotion.

I looked down at the floor in shame as Azar's gaze moved from the monks to mine again. I could not control my emotions in my sleep and clearly I could not while I was awake. I was disgraced, and obviously there was still evil in my soul, otherwise I wouldn't have been so selfish as to shiver at the gift of nature that we were given. I avoided Azar's gaze because we both knew that she would have to go through with the exorcism ritual, to rid my soul of Trigon's and any other demons influences yet again.

I would like to think that as Azar performed these rituals to me every time I could not keep my emotions under wrap, that she wouldn't have gone through with it if we had been alone. The problems with that idea though is that it was against Azarathian law for rituals to be performed alone for just that reason, and others. It was shown as weakness if a priest or priestess did not follow through with the rituals, or that they may have been under demonic influence themselves, and to ensure that they did go through with it, there always had to be a third party. That was reason number one.

The second reason there had to be a third person was because if the rituals were performed alone, then there might be a chance of the evil influences or evil spirits escaping the hold that a single priest or priestess held, and thus tainting another. If a third person were there to bear witness, their power along with the person performing the ritual would ensure the capture and annihilation of the evil, thus proving that the ritual had gone according to plan and that the individual who the ritual was performed upon was in fact cleansed.

Azar stepped aside, leaving room for this monk, Samuel, to drag me through her doorway and we stepped over the threshold into the Azar's quarters, where the ritual would be performed.

After I first arrived at the temple, when I was around a year and a half old, it was deemed that only Azar would be able enough to handle the cleansing of a half-demon. She was the only one with enough knowledge, wisdom, power, and perfection of the ability to control one's emotions over all, and of some of the other abilities that a half-demon would have. Sometimes I think that there may have been another reason that Azar was put in charge of me though. She was my grandmother after all.

There were lit candles spaced out evenly around the room, and large, tall bookcases lining the walls. The floor was hard stone with what appeared to be gold figments metamorphosed inside. There was another door across the room, the one that presumably led to Azar's chambers, as the room we now stood in was dedicated strictly for business or meditation. There was a window in the room, oddly shaped and tall like the bookcases, that allowed moonlight to stream in on our affairs.

Azar closed the door with a loud THUMP and a sigh before crossing the room and rummaging around in a wooden chest. Samuel and I stood in the center of the room, his hand still holding tightly to my arm as if to prevent my escape from him, because I know for a fact that escaping was part of my evil plan to take control of the universe. I rolled my eyes at that thought.

Azar finally found what she was looking for with another sigh and pulled it out of the trunk, shutting the lid of the chest as she stood up. She looked over at Samuel still holding my arm and I swear I saw her roll her eyes too before speaking.

"Monk Samuel, would you please step away from the girl so that I may prepare the ceremony?"

Almost immediately I felt his hand slip away and I was left standing there in the center of the room in my bear feet and nightgown. Azar's dimly lit candles and the moonlight seeming to give me a spotlight on one side as the other side of my body was cast in shadow.

Samuel stepped over to one corner of the room and disappeared in the darkness that lurked there. I gazed in his direction for a moment as Azar walked over to where I was standing, and I thought I saw a flash of red meet my eyes for a moment before I looked away, to watch Azar's movements and shaking my head.

Of course, this would happen. Lack of sleep was making me delusional.

Azar took the container she had found and began to make a circle around where I stood, white powder that must have been salt spilling from its lid. Once that was done, she began placing tall black candles around the perimeter of the circle, chanting quietly under her breathe in the ancient Azarathian language.

What was to be performed was an exorcism of sorts-though unlike any of those known to Earth. This was specifically designed to cleanse one's soul of any unnecessary emotion, and demonic influence, created by Azar herself. This ritual had been performed on me countless times since I first arrived here. I was a half-demon, there need be no other reason since I myself may influence others if I gain enough power, and I may be influenced easier by stronger demons because of my weak half-human, half-demon state, so these rituals must be performed consistently for fear of something happening.

While I was off in my thoughts, Azar had finished setting up and lighting the candles, making the room glow brighter for a fraction of a second before dimming again, as if telling us that the shadows held more power tonight than the light. For that second, I noticed strange outlines throughout the room that made me second guess my sanity. Outlines of disfigured humanoid shapes and shadows. I rubbed my eyes to correct their vision as Azar stepped into the circle and over towards me.

Standing close enough to touch, Azar smiled at me comfortingly, her face lit up more by the moon than the candles, and placed a heavy gold plated chain around my neck that contained a series of large, red stones. After that I stood completely still, as these stones began to take my excess and unneeded energy. This chain was used for protection for Azar from me, and supposedly it also sucked out my emotions and the influences that I might be under.

Azar left the circle, and chanted some more words under her breathe that made me blank out. I could see and feel everything that was happening, I was just helpless to move or speak at all until the ritual was over. Azar sat down in the lotus position, as we often do when we meditate, and began to chant more. Following whatever words she was speaking, my body, accustomed to them, moved of its own accord until I sat levitating in air, meditating also, though my eyes were wide open.

Any second now, I knew, the pain would come. There was always pain in these rituals, at least, for me there was. Being half demon kind of has that affect on you. It was intense and sudden, and I knew old cuts that had healed time and again were reopened with her words. That sense of calm I had a moment before left, and now I was left, un-moving and trying not to show any sign of pain, I was trying not to scream in agony. If I showed any emotion at all, these pains would increase ten-fold.

The chain around my neck for a second burned hot, scorching my skin and leaving behind a mark that I knew would heal eventually. This burning was supposedly a sign that it was functioning, drawing away my emotions and pain, attacking at the evil inside of me, attempting to deliver my soul to purity and innocence. The chain was growing heavier and heavier around my neck, making it difficult to stay focused on the task and levitate.

For a moment I thought I heard someone laughing outside the circle. Could it be that one monk, Samuel? But it wasn't possible, Azarathian Temple monks were trained to never show emotion, so why would one so blatantly laugh at this ceremony? Or was he laughing at my pain?

Azar was still chanting in the ancient words, and with my eyes still opened I watched her mouth turn into a slight frown. Did she hear the laughter too?

I drew comfort from her repeated words, from the fact that she was the one to perform this ritual, and I allowed myself to be distracted by watching her display of emotion. For me, it was so interesting to watch, because growing up in a place that thinks emotions are a hindrance means that something like a simple frown is strange and foreign. I've read books about other places that celebrate their emotions, that take pride in what they feel, and allow their emotions to rule over their bodies. In those books, their emotions are their downfall.

The chain began to dig into my neck heavily, and one of its sharp corners pierced my skin, allowing a small stream of blood to pool onto the stone floor. I held back a grimace, and decided to watch it gather instead of watching Azar. That tiny spot of red on the ground was mesmerizing to me, a simple yet exploding difference in all this darkness and grey.

And that's when the unpredictable happened.

There was a flash of burning red, and then all the shadows in the room seemed to gather in a tight ball, churning and thrashing. From the shadows there grew arms that stretched out, grabbing at the bookcases and walls as if attempting to grab at a lifeline. Azar immediately stopped her chanting at me, and turned to the thing that seemed to be growing, now chanting louder and harsher words.

From the ball of shadows there grew a head, flung back, and a loud, earsplitting roar came from the place where its mouth should be that shook the room and caused the bookcases to fall. Azar's words sent a beam of white light at it, and I attempted to copy her words, hoping that we might send it back to where it came from at the least. The creature stunted in its growth, and screeched again as it began to grow smaller, our words seemed to be working.

Samuel came out from the shadows then, and for a moment it seemed both Azar and I believed that he would be of some help to us. But then he started chanting some very different words from us, and the black ball of shadows shook before growing again, this time faster than before. Our words seemed to have no effect this time, and legs sprouted from the creature as it gave out another shrill cry.

"Raven! Run!" Azar cried out to me, a ball of white energy flying from her hand and shoving me to the door. "I'll take care of this, go!"

Samuel was laughing now, his laughter lined with anothers and when he looked my way his eyes were red. That's when Azar and I both knew. Samuel was under demonic influence.

"Yesss, Rae-ven, run. Be a good, little girl and let the adultsss play." Samuel's voice was like a snake's, and his eyes were now no more than red slits.

The floor shuddered again, and I staggered where I stood. I glanced over to Azar and saw the fear in her eyes, but it was directed at me. It was fear for me. "Raven! Go!" With another beam of white light, I was forced out of the room. The last thing I saw before the door slammed shut on me was of the shadow creature, fully formed with empty sockets where its eyes should be, standing alongside Samuel, and Azar, ready to give her life to fight these two demonic creatures. "Go!" And the door slammed closed and locked, with Azar and two demonic creature's fighting inside.