IV. The Trap is set

"I can see you, Lionel", a gentle voice spoke from the gloom, gentle but at the same time cold, very cold.

The man shifted around without truly moving away from where he crouched. Impossibly green eyes shone like small, circular candle flames. "How? The darkness is complete down here." His voice was rough and husky, a raspy snarl from a predator's throat.

"You forget who I am. What I am."

"When you look at me, Master… what do you see?"

There was a pause, and the sound of gentle waves beating against a rocky shore was unnaturally loud suddenly, like the heartbeat of a vast underground creature lurking in the eternal night. Then the voice spoke again from the shadows. "Everything. Your past. Your present. Your future. All the depths and shallows of your miserable soul."

The crouching man visibly shivered, and the brilliantly green orbs winked out as he turned his head away. "He is not here", he said at last.

"No."

"Will he return?"

"He will."

"And give hope to the Lost Ones?" The husky voice had suddenly acquired an eager tone.

"I will write out his destiny for him."

Lionel nodded in the darkness, awed and obedient. "Master… How long do we still wait here?"

"No longer. Gather the servants and return to the lair we have chosen. Eventually, he will come back… and spring the trap I have prepared for him."

In one swift motion, the crouching man was back on his feet, offered a bow to the one he served and then noiselessly slipped off into the night. From where the shadows were deepest, a pair of eyes followed him, and then the gentle, but cold voice whispered, as if savouring the taste of the words: "The Devil's Child…"