I do not own Forgotten Realms...

Sorry for the length (or rather lack of length) of the last chapter, but I wanted to move the story onward and my brother was bugging me for a go on the computer. So I shall attempted to make this chapter extra long for all you people... In return I expect a review!!!!

"An offer?" Dante replaced his spellbook in his bag, "Please come in and sit down."

Triel shook his head,

"No... I'm afraid that, out of respect for my diety, I cannot enter this church. I will remain here."

Dante nodded, but closed his hand on the Wand of Magic Missiles that inhabited his bag. He'd never heard of a diety that forbid the entry of other temples to their worshippers and he was suspicious.

"Then what is your offer?"

"Dante, my associates and I have been keeping a close eye on you for sometime now. We have seen the... troubles you have attracted over the years and the progress you have made under your foster parent's tutelage. You have much potential, yet your illness has kept you back," Triel sighed sadly, "You adoptive mother is a great warrior and your adoptive father possesses much magical skill. However they do not know what it is like to be an outcast. My diety sponsers a santuary, a place of saftey for plane- touched men and women, where we can remove the sickness, remove the voices and teach skills that far surpass anything your foster parents possess..."

The young tiefling bit his lip. They could remove the voices... the sickness? This was indeed a tempting offer. But... why could he not seem to trust this archon?

Triel smiled,

"We can give you anything you desire... Anything Dante!" Behind his back his fingers completed the subtle gestures of his suggestion spell and he watched as the blood-red eyes seemed to unfocus slightly.

"Triel, I must... I must go! When can we go?" the tiefling shot up out of his seat. He didn't think of his parents or his home, only that he could definitely trust this celestial being.

"Now, if you are willing," when the archon turned and began to walk out of the trees Dante scrambled up to follow, his sickness forgotten.

As Triel walked serenly down the path to the gatehouse he passed by the castle's pack of hounds. Immediently the dog's ears pricked up and they began to bark at the archon. They could sense something wrong with this being.

Another, more intelligent, beast picked up the feeling of wrongness. Ceffyl, the red-eyed grey stallion snarled at Triel. Ceffyl, unlike the hounds, was trained for war and, even without Yami, he knew what to do.

Dante, in his blissful suggestive state, watched Ceffyl's action as though in a dream. The stallion burst from the undergrowth and, letting out an unearthly scream, plunged his dagger-like fangs into Triel's arm.

The archon snarled in anger, more than pain. The horse's attack made him lose his spell over Dante and the young tiefling groaned as he came to his senses.

Ceffyl, although now nearly thirty years of age, was still stronger and faster than most other horses, being magically enchanced as he was. Letting go of the archon he reared, aiming to crush the celestial's skull with his iron-hard hooves. He never got a chance to do so.

Triel's spell sent the stallion tumbling back, trashing in pain on the ground. Another spell, stripped the flesh from the stallion's bones until only the skeleton remained of Yami's faithful steed.

"Ceffyl!" Dante screamed in shock as he saw Ceffyl die his agonizing death. Ceffyl had been around ever since Dante was a child and was more of a beloved pet to him than a war-horse, "Why did you do this? What are you?"

"You really wish to know? Foolish tiefling!"The archon's laughter became manical, traced with demonic hatred. The white robe was replaced by black leather's caked with dried blood. The wings became tattered, and somehow more demonic. But it was the eyes that scared Dante the most. They had no pupil, no iris. They burnt like twin red flames, filled to the brim with undiluted evil.

"Bow down before me! I am Baalzebul; Lord of the Seventh Layer of Hell, Maladomini!"

Dante back down, his eyes wide with fear. Abrubtly a voice echoed over the courtyard,

"Lord of Maladomini, eh? Well I don't care if you are Asmodeus himself, this is my keep you're in; my horse you have just slain and this is my blade that's going to slay you!"