The power of nature manifested itself in full force. Rain fell like shards of glasses on all those who dared face its power. The wind pitilessly battered the trees, both those that stood upright and the flexible ones that bent to its control. Yet on this dark night, when both moon and stars refused to share their light with the earth, a lone figure braved this tempest. Hidden under a thick coat, Blake walked along the lonely road with the impenetrable darkness of jungles on both sides. One might wonder how his frail little body could stand, let alone walk, in such weather. Just sixteen, he was rather slim, with a small frame. His pale blond hair, completely wet, stuck to his pale face that resisted this monstrous wind. But when one saw his eyes, one would know where all his determination and strength were concentrated. Pale gray, his eyes could make one's spine go cold. They held the maturity and conviction found only in warriors. And right then, they showed calmness, a contrast to the weather outside.
However, these eyes had borne great storms too. They had seen others writhing in misery and pain, they had held the despair and helplessness of not being able to help them and worst of all, they had seen crushed their dreams. Yes, these eyes had once held a dream - that of love. They had waited for the glimpse of the knight in shining armor, the one who would have accepted them how they were and would have protected them without any conditions. They had waited. But time showed that these things were suited only to the imaginations of poets and writers. But when hunger and pain knocked at the front door, love slipped away through the backdoor. Perhaps the loss of their dreams had given those eyes a look of such gritty determination.
As Blake walked, he lifted to head to see the huge manor in a distance. His destination was near. Perched on a hill, the manor wasn't frequented by the villagers, especially not during pleasant situations. They avoided it like the plague. Right now, yellow light could be seen from the windows. Despite what he had heard about this ancestral building, Blake couldn't help but admire its splendor on this dark night as he neared. Statues depicting creatures in various stages of pain were dispersed here and there in the yard. Gothic carvings barely visible in the darkness, looked impressive when even a modicum of light from the windows fell on them.
"Hey you, where are you going?" a voice jerked Blake out of his trance. It was the guard standing near the gate in the shadows such that Blake could only see his dark blue uniform.
"I have to meet the Lord," the teenager shouted over the noise from the gale.
"He's busy. Come back later," the guard said, though Blake could sense that he was only humoring him.
"It's really important," he hissed as he approached the guard, "I'm one of those boys, if you understand me. The Lord wouldn't be pleased if he somehow learns that you lost him a nice opportunity."
Blake knew that he had spoken the right words as he noticed the guard fall silent. The lord was reputed for his boys. The fact is that one of his major pleasures dwelt in the mutilation of young boys. Once, about twenty years ago, he used to lure boys for his sadistic practices. Tired of his tantrums, the villagers moved out to a further distance and shunned the Lord, refusing all his advances and warning him to not harm the young boys. This didn't stop the Lord much. Any boy who ventured in his property was abducted and used for obvious reasons. When the supply of local boys was thin, he used to buy slaves from other lands. Any relationship between the villagers and the Lord disappeared. The Lord remained a mystery to the villagers and a tale which the elder boys used to scare their little brothers.
"Wait here," the guard said in his thick voice.
Leaving Blake standing in the thick rain, he went inside the manor. The young boy had to wait for ten minutes in the rain for the guard to return.
"Follow me," he said in the same thick voice.
Blake crossed the garden, which for the moment was plunged in darkness, and entered the manor. The view inside was simply breathtaking. Oriental carpets covered the floor and the heads of many animals adorned the bare walls- those of tigers, deer and bulls. Presumably, the Lord was a good hunter. Blake also noticed that the guard was a foreigner. His black skin was not found amongst the locals. As he reflected, he wondered if any local would volunteer to work as guard for the Lord.
The guard gestured him to follow him to the next room. The one was a little bit cozier. Huge drapes, mostly in red colors, covered the walls. Couches, mostly in oriental fashion, were dispersed around the room. And on one of them, the Lord was sitting comfortably. He seemed to be in his late thirties but Blake knew that he was around forty-five. He probably took good care of his appearance. This also accounted for his silky and luxurious clothes.
"Greetings, my Lord," Blake said as he gave a curt bow, "I won't waste much of your time because I'm aware that you're quite busy. In fact, I have come to you with a deal- me for hundred and fifty golden coins."
"Hundred and fifty golden coins!" the Lord laughed wolfishly. "I can get boys from other lands in only twenty golden coins. Why would I pay such a large sum for a lad like you?"
This time, it was Blake's turn to give the Lord a wry smile. "My Lord," he said as he came closer to the older man, "You know everything about quality. You also know that the local boys are much more entertaining than the worn- out sticks you bring. A man like you should enjoy the best, Sir. You deserve them. Why run after sickly ones when you can afford the ones you merit? A small sum like that can't rival with the pleasure, can it?"
Blake made use of his bargaining skills as he tried to lure the Lord. After all, he was the son of a merchant. He smiled as he watched the Lord lost in thoughts, just like clients when their resolution started shaking. All he needed now was an incentive to convince the Lord. His eyes swept over the nearby furniture and fell on the knife lying on the round table beside him. In a flash, he dropped his wet coat, revealing his nude pale body. He seized the knife and drew a thin red line on his left wrist without flinching.
"My Lord, I'm not lying. See this blood on this pale skin. Look at this drop as it slides against the skin. Red looks much more fascinating on a white background, doesn't it? And there is this unscarred body completely for you. Is one hundred and fifty golden coins a too large sum in front of this?" he said in an earnest voice.
But he wondered if the man heard him. The latter was enthralled by the red line on Blake's hand. He unconsciously licked his lower lips. There was a sudden change in him. It was no longer the calm man with a lucid mind, but instead a devil.
"You're indeed one of a kind but you made a grave mistake. You mustn't have come here. What's to say that I'll not kidnap you?" the Lord asked with a devilish twinkle in is eyes.
"I thought of that," Blake said blatantly. "I had to take this risk. But I know that you would never abduct me. Kidnapping me would give you just a constantly crying and thrashing boy. What's the use? But if you buy me, I would be completely yours. If you want me to cry, I will. If you want me to whimper, I will. If you want me to stay immobile, I will."
Blake looked at the Lord for a short while into the eyes. He knew that he wasn't the only one who would gain from this deal. And the Lord knew too that.
"Falken!" the Lord's voice boomed and instantly a man, looking a bit same as the previous guard appeared, "Go to the village right now and give this young lad's family hundred and fifty golden coins."
"Can I meet my family a last time, Sir?" Blake asked with a faint flicker of emotion as he bowed.
"Of course not!" the Lord answered, "As you said it yourself, you're mine now! And I have planned much more important things for you. Jinia!"
An old wizened woman entered the room. For the first time, Blake saw a female in the house and wondered if he needed to cover his still nude body. Eventually, he decided against it.
"Sir, I have a request. You are not obliged to accept it but I would like it if you didn't tell my parents about my whereabouts Just tell them that I have gone to the other land to work and this sum is the advance for my services," Blake said in a neutral voice.
"Ok. Jinia, take him and prepare him. I'll see him in an hour," the Lord dismissed him.
After telling Falken about the location of his house and counting the number of coins, Blake followed the woman and no words were exchange at any moment. He entered a magnificent bathroom with delicately carved marbles. While he had a bath with some perfumed soap, he thought of his family. He knew that the money would be sent to them. His father was wise enough to not waste the money. He was a nice man, just a bit unlucky in the trade. As for his siblings, he knew that they resented him. After all, these last days, he served himself a bigger portion of food, ignoring their starvation. But he had to keep a good figure so as to extract the maximum amount from the Lord. But the person who would miss him the most would be his mother. She would be the one who would remember him every day. He just hoped that she wouldn't bother much and would take care of her deteriorating health.
Fresh, dry and cleaner than ever, but still naked, Blake followed Jinia to the basement. He entered the empty room and heard the door close behind him. He felt a small lump in his throat as he gauged his surrounding. As he turned around, he saw several apparatuses, which were probably used for sadistic practices. The tools ranged from long swords to small scissors. It seemed that the stories he heard were not completely false as he inspected a pointed instrument that reminded him of a particular gruesome tale.
"You like my collection?" a voice said from behind and Blake turned to see the Lord, "Come here."
Blake went to the extreme right of the room where locks and chains were nailed on the wall. The Lord brought him in front of the wall and adjusted the chains, which soon found their way to Blake's hand. His hands were lifted to make ninety degrees with his waist and he was bound to the wall as the Lord put the locks. The chains were raised so that he had to stand on his toes.
"I won't chain your feet and neck. You seem to be a good chap. And of course, bounding them would mean less skin for me," he said as he smirked, "Now, what shall I use on you? I want something like you- beautiful, unique, expensive, small yet sharp and... exciting to use. I think I got it."
The Lord walked to a small closet near to the door. Opening it, he removed a box that contained a dagger covered by red velvet. It looked quite precious for there were gems incrusted in the handle. Judging from the amount of dust on the box, it must have been old but the dagger showed no sign of derelict or rust. The man looked at it, pleased with him.
"Excellent. I haven't had the opportunity to use this since years. Now where shall I start? Here?" he asked as he pierced Blake's wrist. "Here?" as he barely touched his cheek. "Or here?" he whispered as brought the dagger closer to his neck.
As the blade caressed his neck, Blake got a fleeting vision. He saw himself lying on a bed of flowers...lilies...white lilies. He was nude with his eyes closed. There was this smile on his face- a sad smile that conveyed joy... like when a friend departs- happy for his new journey and sad for the separation. Then, this red line appeared across his neck, which became deeper and deeper. As he watched, he saw the white lilies beneath him becoming red. Soon, he was lying on blood-red lilies rather than white ones. His vision stopped as he felt the first cut.
Time passed as seconds gave in to minutes that in turn became hours. The Lord never stopped. Each second passed seemed to make him more excited, or rather, each drop of blood seemed to make him more excited. He skillfully used the dagger on Blake's skin, just like an experienced painter on a piece of paper. As for Blake, he barely winced throughout the practice. Each cut sent tingling sensations to his brain. It might seem strange but instead of pain, he felt thrill. Or more precisely, each pain gave him thrill. It made him feel elevated and superior. He liked the feeling of blade on his skin.
Eventually, the first rays entered the room through a small peephole. Blake was on the brink of emotional collapse from all the unexpressed emotions accumulated in his head, or perhaps it was due to heavy loss of blood. He opened his eyes to stare at his bloody body. There wasn't an inch uncovered by blood; red lines covered his once unscarred skin. There was a tiny but gradually increasing pool of blood at his feet. But the Lord kept on. As the blade made his way to his neck, he lifted his head.
It was then that he saw him. It was like an ethereal painting. He was standing there in full glory. Suddenly, Blake felt light. He floated to this known stranger. He was just like Blake had thought. He stared at his black hair that held the darkness of the night. The scent of ashes entered Blake's nostrils but he was most mesmerized by those two black wings behind the stranger. He extended his hand and met the velvet touch of the feathers. The stranger was his angel, his Angel of death.
"Do I need to give you something for you to accept me?" Blake said with a lopsided grin as he looked into those two pools of abyss.
Saying nothing, the angel kissed him and made him his forever.
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