In the days of Job, Lucifer attempted to sway the holy away from God by means of force and destruction. They, in turn, clung tighter to faith. Lucifer, seeing the failings of his designs, fled to the depths of hell. There, he furthered his machinations, and waited.
In the dimly lit meeting hall, five figures clad in black robes gathered together in a tradition stretching back to the founding fathers of the small New-England township. One of the figures stepped forward, raised both arms in the air, and began to speak.
"My brethren! Rejoice in this day! For Brother Mason has informed me that his wife is with child. Brother Mason, please step forward. The contract awaits your hand." He gestured towards a small wooden table standing underneath the pulpit. On it lay a sheet of parchment, quill, and ink.
Another of the robe-clad man stepped slowly forward. Upon reaching the table, he picked up the quill and dipped it in the ink. The man in black began to speak again.
"Today, we honor the holy pact forged by our ancestors! Today, we secure the places of our children in the Kingdom Above! Today, my brethren, today, we rejoice!"
Brother Mason raised the quill above the parchment. He hesitated but a moment before, with a shaking hand, he signed his name at the bottom. As soon as he had finished, the parchment lifted itself off of the table, rolled and bound itself, and vanished with a sound like thunder.
"Praise be!" cried the other members, arms uplifted.
"Praise be," came the murmured reply from Brother Mason.
One by one, the other four figures filed out of the hall. Brother Mason slowly ran his hand along the surface of the table. He took a deep breath, and walked to the door exiting the hall. He paused in the doorway.
"Would that our fathers had never had made this pact."
With another deep breath, he left.
In the deepest levels of hell, there lies a workshop, of sorts. In this unholy place, Lucifer gives creation to all things evil and foul. Here, it was, that he fled. Here, he stayed, thinking up all manner of horrible creations to torment the men who dared refuse him. Here, he created the downfall of man, and laughed.
Eighteen years later…
Edward Mason did not consider himself a particularly special individual. He did not see any specific reason about him that would cause others to regard him as special. Yet, all his life, it seemed, the other residents of Queensville had always looked at him, spoke to him and of him with the same odd mixture of admiration and pity. Pity for what, he couldn't imagine. He had never suffered any real hardship, not that anything of that sort took place in their quiet town. It seemed odd, when he thought of it, that so much suffering and disaster could happen outside of the confines of the town, yet nothing horrible ever seemed to take place in Queensville. Its population was small, less than 400 people. Crime was nonexistent, as was poverty. Whenever he would ask questions about the distinct lack of negativities in the town, his parents would reply that such was the benefit of living a clean and goodly life. Other places were not so fortunate, they said, as to have the helpful and guiding influence of the town Elders. At the time, Edward accepted this answer. That was before. Before the flaws of the townspeople were flayed open and displayed before him.
For the moment, Edward was thinking of the upcoming Saturday, his eighteenth birthday. Or rather, the behavior of his parents', almost all the townspeople, for that matter, in regards to his eighteenth birthday. Most of the adults in town seemed…nervous. Like they were waiting for something. His parents, well his parents had an almost mournful air about them. His father had turned stoic, and his mother kept looking at him with those sad eyes. Great One Above if he could figure out why. He supposed it may have something to do with his ascending into adulthood, but a little, niggling voice in the back of his head told him that, no, that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all.
The days rolled by, until, on Friday evening, his father called him into the study.
"Son, I've put this off…long enough. Almost too long. Son, my dearest son, there are… things… about this town that you have no knowledge of. Great things. Terrible things. Things of which we must now speak."