"Mom, what are you doing...?" A young boy asked as he scratched his drooping eyes.

  "These are offerings, my child," The woman answered.

  "Offerings...?"

  "Yes, Samael, Offerings."

  ***

  A small figure jolted up amidst the darkness of the cell he resided in. His breathing ragged and his frame small with his bones hugging tightly against his skin.

  That nightmare... Again, He rose to his feet, a groan escaping his lips. The cold night air brushed through his hair, pushing it aside as the familiar scent of leaves and dirt rubbed against his senses.

  Leaning on the coarse wall for support, he cautiously navigated his way towards the sole barred window nestled in the corner of the room, barely avoiding a fall.

  With his trembling hands, he grasped the rusty steel bars, feeling the sharp edges scratch his skin.

  He peeked outside. The silver gleam of the moon bathing him in it's warm embrace. Its ethereal light served as a beacon of hope for the child and a reminder of the freedom that's far from his grasp.

  A cruel joke.

  He used to live a life of peace and prosperity, until that one night. A memory he never wanted to remember, but by some cruel twist of fate, he always dreamt of it. Over and over again. A never-ending cycle of torment.

  Every time he closes his eyes, he is confronted by that same haunting image. The towering pillar of flames that devoured everything he loved. The crackling of the infernal heat that drowned the voices of his friends. The laughter of those monsters while they slaughtered his family in cold blood. The way they forced him watch as they tore everything apart. It was all carved deep in his memories.

  With a deep sigh, Samael fixated his gaze at the boundless night sky. Soon... Just a little longer. And the darkness swallowed his consciousness again.

  ***

  "WAKE UP!" A booming voice shouted beside Samael's ear, jolting him awake in panic and confusion.

  The perpetrator erupted in a hysterical laughter, filling the room with his coarse voice, as if he just heard the best joke in his life.

  As his vision gradually cleared up, he finally saw the man, his skin wrinkled and back hunched.

  He was wearing a robe tainted with dirt, draped over his small frame. His long disheveled beard swayed under the nudge of the wind, and the stench of urine and liquor permeated from his body.

  He was the master of this place.

  "HAHAHA! YOU SHOULD'VE SEEN YOUR FACE!" The man roared as the bottle held loosely in his hand, pointed towards Samael.

  Clearly, he was drunk again. If he was sober enough, he wouldn't even bother coming here. When was he not drunk?

  Samael narrowed his eyes and glared at the man.

  "Huh? What the fuck are you looking at?" The old man asked, his brows furrowed.

  Whipping his arm back, the bottle in his hand flew straight for Samael's body as the sound of glass shattering echoed in the small chamber.

  "Look at what you've done! You just wasted a perfectly good drink!" The old man roared.

  Ugh... Samael grimaced as his face morphed in disgust. Tugging on his clothes, he wiped his face dry.

  "Failures, failures, AND MORE FUCKING FAILURES!" The old mage spat in pure rage, his face flushing red every passing second. Samael can guess that his experiment probably failed again.

  "This is all because of you! YOU! Ever since I bought you, nothing's ever gone right!" The old mage ranted, pointing his crooked finger towards Samael. "If it weren't for their orders then I wouldn't have bothered to even take you! FUCK! How dare they?! How could they cut my budget?! Do they not understand that the future lies in my work?! FOOLS! FOOLS!"

  The mage withdrew his hand as he slammed the back of his palm straight unto Samael's cheeks, the impact reverberating with a resounding echo as Samael crashed to the ground, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.

  Fueled by his rage, the old man threw one kick after the other. Gritting his teeth, Samael endured the storm of agonizing pain, steadfastly waiting for it to subside.

  Not a single sound escaped Samael's lips, further stoking the man's fury and igniting his destructive tendencies.

  "That felt great!" The old mage exhaled, a grin plastered on his face. He wiped the crimson stains off his hand using a rag. All while Samael layed motionless, his body bruised and battered, blood trailing down the cold stone floor.

  The man sneered, spat and walked out the room.

  Samael hissed as he pushed himself up, only to fall under the titanic weight of his body.

  The sharp aches of his wounds made his arms feel powerless, that along with the hunger tearing a hole through his stomach made every passing second nothing but torture. When was the last time he ate? The last time he slept on a proper bed?

  He had forgotten.

  It had been too long. Far too long.

  Samael bit his lip, blood trailing down his chin as the pain only numbed him further.

  He felt wronged. He was wronged, but it was too late to change anything. They can't bring back what he lost or erase the traces of the torture he went through.

  His flesh screamed in pain as the marks and lacerations had now turned to scars. They were nothing but haunting reminders of his past.

  Gathering the flickering flame of strength he had. He urged himself to crawl forward. Each movement an agonizing battle against the searing pain of the wounds embedded on his flesh. Enduring the burns in his wounds, he reached for the jagged metal bars.

  He has been relentlessly counting down the passage of time. Every hours, seconds and weeks. Fueled with unwavering determination, he yearns to break the chains that bind him. The event of "Star Fall" looms close, a day that holds the key to his escape.

  Star Fall is an event that occurs every year. The day when the gods bestow upon their blessings to their mortal subjects.

  They promise endless wealth, unfaltering strength and everlasting prosperity for those that worship and revere them. It's a day of peace and celebration. A time of laughter and love.

  The telltale signs were as glaring as the midday sun. The birds have vacated the sky, leaving nothing but unfaltering silence in their absence. Even the old mage had become increasingly erratic these past few days.

  Unfortunately, such gifts were only for a few chosen. Not only that, one must be of ripe age to be able to gain these powers. For any younger and their bodies cannot handle the strain on their souls.

  A few days ago, he had his eight birthday. Meaning, he was now capable of gaining his own awakening. A chance to escape this place.

  All he has to do is wait and see. After all, his family were devout followers of the God Taranius, the god of light and peace. Every day, they would pray and worship. Offering all sorts of treasures in the altar. So surely he would get his blessing.

  Across the darkened midnight sky.

  A streak of light, so swift and bright.

  The gods grace us with their celestial might.

  Oh bring forth, the awaited time.

  Let the stars rain, Star Fall...

  For a second, everything halted. No sound, no wind, only the deafening silence prevailed.

  Then there was light.

  A small spark traveled high in the heavens, illuminating the dark starry night in its lush glow. His breath halted, and his heart raced.

  Then there was a blinding flash.

  Before his eyes, an explosion of vibrant colors illuminated the night sky, soaring across its expanse and leaving luminous trails in the desolate darkness, untamed and pure.

  It has finally begun.

  Across the globe, the same phenomenon blessed the sky with their radiant streaks. These trail of lights came in clusters, moving fluidly and weaving in their own distinct paths, as if they had a will of their own, before descending upon their fated vessels.

  His eyes held a soft glimmer as the colorful streak of lights danced in the night sky. but something was amiss.

  None of them flew in his direction.

  Huh...? What's going on? Samael wondered as he inspected his body.

  Samael's breathing began to hasten, taking pace while his body began to tremble.

  The dark gradually devoured the boundless night sky, eating with it the tiny sliver of hope he had.

  Wait... No... No... NO!

  His grip tightened and his palm turned white under the pressure. The sharp edges of the rusted barred window scraping through his skin, blood watering the coarse surface of the steel bars as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, some drenching his back.

  What's happening?! This can't be right! Wait—NO! Come back! No! Please!

  He reached out the blood soaked window, it's jagged surface brushing against his cheeks leaving shallow wounds.

  Yet, no matter how hard he tried, nothing happened. Nothing ever happened.

  You can't do this to me!

  His quiet sobs filled the room, leaving hushed echoes in the silent night. His tears akin to that of a storm, washing away the blood trailing down his face.

  Why...? What did I do to deserve this...?

  Samael slowly kneeled in defeat. He couldn't help but question everything he knew. Were their offerings for naught?

  But we gave them everything.

  Yet, in the end, they were still abandoned.

  "Did you actually fucking think you would get a blessing?" A voice spoke behind him followed by hysterical laughter. "YOU FOOL! And here I was thinking you couldn't get any dumber than that!"

  "You, a slave, getting the attention of the gods? You must be delusional!" The old man mocked. Further fueling the rage boiling in Samael's heart.

  Samael felt something grasp his hair, followed by a sharp pain on his scalp. Like a rag, he was raised and slammed down the dirty cement floor. His breathing once deep and confident, now weak and barely audible.

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  The old mage unzipped his trousers and threw them away, a smirk plastered on his face.

  "At least this way you'll be of some use," The old man whispered in a hushed tone, his breath grazing Samael's ear as the stench of alcohol remained.

  He couldn't fight back anymore. He was tired—too tired.

  His eyelids slowly narrowed as his vision began to tunnel down. The world began to spin and the cold harsh darkness greeted him.

  Then...

  Then, there was fire.

  Standing there, Samael could still feel the searing heat of the flames that burned down his future.

  No... Not this again.

  As he cast a side glance, his attention was drawn to a little boy tightly clinging to his mother's clothing, his small hands scrunching up the pristine white dress. Tears trickled down his face, staining his milky white cheeks.

  "Mom! What is happening? I'm scared!" The kid said to her mother.

  "Shh... Shh... It's okay... Everything will be okay." The woman enveloped the kid in her protective embrace as she caressed his hair.

  "Where's father?" The kid asked.

  "Y-your father... H-He will be back." The woman replied, her words stuck to her throat, as though a stone is lodge between them.

  "For now, I need you to be a good boy and listen to me," Her grip tightened and her fingers quivered as she held the boy, inching her face close to his.

  Samael shut his eyes tight. He can't look at this. He has seen this scene hundreds and thousands of times.

  Enough! He pleaded for the nightmare to stop.

  "Look at me... Look at me! Samael" The woman pleaded, tears drenched her pale cheeks. "You have to run, okay? You run and don't look back. Promise me!"

  She clung tightly, unwilling to let go. But deep down, she knew of the sacrifice she needs to make. So she let go as she pushed the boy away.

  The kid stood there in hesitation as he looked at the woman.

  "GO!" The woman screamed as the boy flinched before slowly backing away.

  Unsure and afraid, the small child bolted away as the wind crashed on his face.

  He ran away without looking back. Ignoring the booming explosions and the blood curdling screams of those he loved, but when he thought escape was at his palm, a hand grabbed him and threw him back.

  "Let me go!" The boy roared.

  The men cloaked in white held him tight, their fingers digging deep in his skin as they unsheathed their blades. Their metal surface laced with gold releasing a sharp glimmer under the celestial light of the moon.

  The young boy screamed and begged for them to stop, but no one listened. The men loomed closer the woman, grabbing her face and catapulting her downward.

  Samael clenched his jaws, his fist turning into a ball. His hands pale white while his nails dug in his palm. Pin-drop silence shrouded everything. except for a single voice.

  "Survive, Samael. Survive!"

  Samael flinched as he jerked his head towards the source of the voice. He was confronted with a sight that bought a lone tear down his scarred cheeks.

  A mother protecting her son, encasing him in a hug, shielding him from the dangers that wish him harm.

  Her cheeks glimmered under the onslaught of tears, but she wore the most loving smile he had ever seen.

  "Survive," The woman whispered, before multiple blades impaled themselves behind her.

  Then...

  Then there was silence.

  How could he forget?

  Was he so busy running away from his fears that he forgot to look back at those he left behind?

  Was the fear of death so much that it blinded him to that which mattered the most?

  Like thunder, the sounds of chains snapping echoed in his ears, deafening him.

  A violent tsunami of energy slammed unto his body as his muscles tensed, veins etching lines in his skin, as his eyes jolted open. Hiding behind them a spark that illuminated his unyielding will.

  He was done running away. No more shall he fear.

  Because what more can he lose?

  Burning through his waning strength, he clenched his fist and delivered a plethora of attacks.

  He punched, clawed and pulled on the old man, enduring even if the pain was too much. What could a little more do?

  "HEY! ARGH! STOP!" The old mage brought his arm forth, acting as a makeshift shield.

  "YOU LITTLE SHIT!!" The old man spat in pure rage. He balled his fist and rammed it downwards, crashing against Samael's face, but his unrelenting fury has yet to subside. The old man continued pummeling the boy, until his blood painted the floor crimson.

  "You think you can defy me?! You think you're strong enough to win against me?! You little shit!" His face contorted, drowned in anger, he wrapped his bruised hands unto Samael's neck as he squeezed tight.

  Samael dug his nails onto the old mage's hands, his face flushed red as he hungered for air. He tried to pry it off him, but his strength was too little to make a change.

  His vision dimmed like the lights of a lamp slowly burning away, his strength gradually falling.

  Is this it...?

  The world around him swirled. Seeming like all of this is nothing but a nightmare.

  Was this the end?

  Was this really how it ends?

  Forgotten and killed like a dog?

  As Samael's consciousness faded, the rage in his heart remained burning bright.

  He couldn't accept it.

  He simply couldn't.

  NO! Samael's bloodshot eyes jolted open as he reached after the man.

  In a desperate attempt, Samael dragged the man closer, albeit slightly, it was enough.

  Without remorse or hesitation, he slammed his teeth shut forward, ripping through the old man's flesh as he tore off his nose.

  Blood sprinkled down Samael's face as the man released a thunderous scream.

  He held his face and rose to his knees, only to crash down with a heavy thud.

  A sharp ache pierced the man's neck as his body stiffened, cold sweat drenching his back as he grabbed his throat, only to notice shards of glass protruding from his flesh.

  His shaky eyes glanced at the battered boy, shards of glistening glass sat idle on his palm and the lingering scent of alcohol enveloped the room, barely shrouding the metallic stench of blood as the bottle he threw earlier now sit beside Samael.

  The old man gasped for air, but the puncture was too deep.

  Horrific gurgling sounds escaped his lips as he slowly drowned in his blood. Slowly filling his lungs like a flood.

  A shiver ran down the mage's spine as he desperately crawled away, his nails scraping the icy surface of the cell, leaving crimson claw marks on the floor.

  Bit by bit, the rusty metal door of the cell became wider and clearer. His lips quivered into a small smirk. His escape was inevitable!

  Then a hand clung to his leg.

  The old mage's eyes widened in horror. He glanced back and saw Samael's half dead body unrelentingly holding him back. He shook his foot, but to no avail.

  "N...No...!" The old mage retorted, his tone hoarse. He was so close. This can't be happening to him! He can't accept this!

  The old man grasped the boy's collar. His hand trembling and his complexion pale.

  Samael opened his eyes ever so slightly. Looking the man straight in the eyes. His reflection bouncing off the glassy pupils of the mage.

  "H-H-He..lp me..!" A hoarse voice came out.

  Then silence reigned once more.

  These were his last words before the light left his eyes. His body went limp and fell down with a soft thud. The old mage was dead. At the same time, Samael collapsed from exhaustion.

  It was over.

  Finally it was over.

  He could rest now.

  It didn't take long before the light of dawn peeked at the horizon. Its warm golden glow bathing the cell in its radiance. At the same time, signaling the start of a new day.

  Samael's eyes scrunched up, his face contorted under the throbbing pain of his head. As he opened his eyes, he was greeted with the familiar view of the ceiling, but he noticed something else. A sharp stench that assaulted his nose.

  "Huh...?" Samael muttered, his forehead creased as his eyes fixated on the source of the scent.

  There was a body—no, a corpse—laying motionless. Its rotting body stiff and pale, infested with maggots eating its flesh.

  The boy's eyes widened, and the memories of what transpired last night started to resurface.

  Samael felt his stomach churn. The realization that he killed a person has finally caught up to him. His whole body shook uncontrollably as he stumbled to get away from the corpse. His vision turned hazy, and he felt suffocated.

  Samael held his chest, his heart galloping wildly. He felt heavy, like something was pinning him down.

  I killed him. Like thunder in a stormy night, it dawned upon him as his body grew cold and stiff.

  His vision swirled as he felt his stomach turn. He wanted to vomit, but there was nothing to release.

  Samael shakily looked at the old man's dead body as he slowly used the walls for support, thoughts and emotions of guilt, shame and fear crashing against him without remorse.

  His captor was dead.

  He was free.

  Yet, he felt no relief or closure.

  Instead, he felt shame, guilt and fear for this act of killing. He took a life with his own hands.

  He killed.

  There was no other way to frame it. No other way to make it sound better.

  Was he a monster now? Was he like them now?

  Where would he go now? His home was gone and he knew no one. He was alone.

  Will they come for him again? Will this freedom be short-lived?

  Was he truly free?

  He did not know.

  He was a monster, Samael reminded himself. He tortured people. He killed for knowledge, for his own twisted desires. By stopping him, I saved others—hundreds more!

  Yet, does that truly justify the act of taking a life?

  He did not know.

  "Remember Samael, taking a life and fighting for one is different. And it will always remain that way. So fight for those that cannot fight for themselves. That is the virtue of a man."

  Did he truly kill to stop this evil or did he do it for himself only?

  He wanted to believe he did it for the greater good of many. That he followed his father's teachings.

  But did he truly?

  ***

  The lab wasn't too big or too clean. Stains of dried blood clung to the once pristine walls, along with the eerie silence that shrouded the place.

  There were a few rooms, and when Samael checked them, he gagged. Countless rotting corpses and skeletal remains hung on steel chains.

  Some were burned, while others were severed. Their faces were distorted in pain, showing signs of torture before death.

  The further he went, the more prevalent the acrid stench of rot and blood was. Each chamber held the same view. One In particular made the boy's stomach churn.

  A room in the furthest part of the lab had men, women and children stripped naked, as they hung on steel hooks embedded deep in their palms, their lower half mutilated into a mess and mixed with something he could not describe.

  Samael's face distorted. He felt an inconceivable amount of disgust. He couldn't imagine what could've happened here. The fact that they were still whole means they were recently killed too.

  "Monster..." Samael's hushed voice reverberated in the room, sending echoes in the desolate chamber.

  How could someone do this monstrosity?! That man—no, that monster!.

  He deserved it! Every moment of the agony he went through!

  Or so he thought. Yet, it did not change the numbing guilt he felt. It was supposed to make him feel better. It was supposed to change his thoughts!

  It did not.

  The weight of his actions beared down on him nonetheless. It was there, and it will remain to be there.

  These children suffered as he did. Yet, he was lucky to remain when they couldn't see the light again.

  Why him?

  Why them?

  What did they do to deserve this?

  How could such evil exist?

  He stepped away from the room as he wandered aimlessly. Lost and afraid. Hoping to escape this hell. In doing so, he stumbled upon a chamber, or to be precise, that deceased mage's personal abode.

  There were multiple apparatuses laying around, and organs were stuffed in liquid-filled jars. The stench here was the same as everywhere: unbearable.

  Samael hurriedly checked the room for anything he could use. He rummaged through the cabinets, under the bed, and through the clothes of the deceased mage. Afterwards, he gathered what he found.

  In total, he acquired: An old, dusty knife, a worn-down bag, some clothes, a few moldy pieces of bread, and a candle with a few unused matchsticks.

  Seeing the knife tightly grasped in his hand, Samael couldn't help but frown. By killing that man he had prevented more from suffering the same fate as he did. No— from suffering the same fate as they all did.

  If this was the only way to prevent more from dying such deaths, then was it truly wrong?

  Yet, if he killed more and more, then what made him different from them? Wouldn't that make him like them all the same?

  Samael gritted his teeth, his head galloping back and forth.

  Samael packed all the necessary items in the bag and greedily ate some of the bread he found. He didn't care whether they were moldy or not. As long as they can fill his stomach, he'll gladly eat them.

  Once he was finished. He took the bag and slung it on his shoulder before walking away. His footsteps echoing in the empty hall of the lab. Somehow, it made him feel melancholy.

  Do not be mistaken. He didn't feel any sentiment for the place.

  He did not feel guilt for killing the old man. He made hundreds if not thousands suffer horrible deaths. He deserved what he got and every fiber of it.

  Rather, he felt for the countless innocent lives lost for the sake of "greater knowledge."

  He didn't know what kind of research the man conducted or what results he sought, but was that really enough reason to treat human lives like toys? What was the point of gaining such knowledge when it came at such a hefty cost?

  The boy shook his head as he made his way to the exit. He shouldn't focus on such things for now. He should direct his energy towards leaving this place first.

  If I remember correctly...

  Samael looked around and saw a rusty iron door. He once saw this specific door when he was being led to the "Play room." He speculated that this door was probably the exit since it had multiple locks shutting it tight.

  He approached the door with steady steps and examined the heavy steel locks. Where could the keys be? Samael wondered as he scanned his surroundings.

  Could it be in the... play room?

  As far as Samael remembered. The old mage only entered his office, which the boy had already checked, and the playroom, in which he committed various atrocities.

  It can't be right...?

  No, denying it was futile. The old mage would have put the keys to one of his most endeared places.

  As much as possible, he wanted to avoid that specific place. The only thing he remembers when he goes there is the awful stench of blood and the countless screams of pain.

  He let out a deep breath and steeled himself. He has gone too far to give up now. He just needed to enter and leave as fast as possible.

  Unnerved, Samael made his way to a lone door in the corner of the building. Every step he took felt heavier than the last. When he touched the steel surface of the chamber, he felt the urge to pull back and just find another escape route. But this is the only way.

  He gritted his jaw and put his weight on his arms, ignoring the sharp aches pestering his body.

  A loud screeching reverberated in the hall, bouncing off the filthy walls of this damned lab. The heavy steel door slowly made way for him and the nauseous stench inside the room.

  His nose twitched and scrunched up. He let go of the door and held his mouth tight. What kind of mess could cause such smell?

  The room was dark, until the soft glow of the lamps invaded the interior. Setting light to the horrors that sat there, frozen in time.

  His eyes widened and his breath halted. He held his abdomen and vomitted on the floor. Tears streaming along the contents of his stomach.

  Bodies, specifically kids, were strapped on the ice-cold metal tables with their hands bound tight by leather belts, scraping their skin off, showing the muscles beneath. All while their upper body are wide open and held by steel clamps. Free for everyone to see. There were also organs hanging on steel hooks, infested with maggots and flies.

  On the side were countless grotesque monsters cut into pieces, some merged with the dead bodies.

  What form of monstrosity is this?

  Samael shakily wiped his mouth as he did his best to hold on to the remaining sanity he had left.

  Keys... Where are the keys?!

  He carefully looked around and saw something glimmer beside a small mountain of corpses. He didn't waste time and snatched it, without sparing even a glance, before running out of the room.

  Once he got out, Samael halted his steps and wiped the ice cold sweat off his forehead. His brain still couldn't process what it saw inside. Probably never will.

  He took a mouthful of air and went forward. The voice inside his head, louder than ever before.

  It wasn't long before the rusty iron door presented itself.

  He held the keys with his trembling hands, struggling to maintain them from shaking.

  One by one, he opened the locks. His anticipation was already reaching its peak. He had already forgotten the feeling of the grass under your feet and the warmth of the sun on your skin.

  First lock...

  CLICK!

  Second lock...

  CLICK!

  Beads of sweat fell down his forehead as the sound of metal clanging ran down the hall.

  Last lock...

  Samael firmly grasped the lock with his small, calloused hands, he plugged the rusty bronze key. With one swift twirl, he heard a click.

  CLICK!... THUD!

  Accompanied by a loud screeching. Like the rising sun watching above all, the light, slowly but surely shrouded the room. And the familiar scent of grass invaded his senses.

  He was finally free.