She could see the Sun, naked in the clear blue sky. It rays should have reached her easily, but they did not. A darkness settled in as the odd child approached, as if the sky were suddenly overcast. Though it was not. This cloak of shadows grew deeper, as she drew nearer to his person, as she became enfolded in his presence. Something about him seemed to draw in the light. His deep black hair, like an inkwell, she imagined. She didn’t really know why she’d come to this conclusion, but it seemed somehow reasonable. Perhaps it had been the way it shined, as wet wet hair might shine beneath the moonlight. He was quite well formed, his features both striking and pleasing to the eye. She could only imagine that he had been born of the most beautiful of parents. She tried to imagine the father of such a child, but in truth she was probably only imaging what he might become in time. She could now see that anything she imagined about him must in fact be wrong. As she peered into his dark blue eyes, which seemed radiant even as the light around him was being consumed, she realized that he was truly something other than a child. Something ancient, she thought. “Tell me your name, little one…” she said, as the first words formed between them, an invitation to parley.

She was all of 19, and he seemed to her no more than 12 or 13 years old, at first glance. A mere boy in her eyes. But he could see that she was quickly redressing her first impressions, and was quite curious to find soil in which to plant new ones. ” I could tell you, but only if promised to never speak it in front of another,” he insisted.

Now she grew even more curious, more eager to reveal that which stood before her. “I can. I will be as a secret between us. Promise,” she replied.

“Then we must seal it with a compact. A contract which will bind the two of us together in blood. Unless you are afraid,” he explained in all seriousness. Knowing that she would not be. Her kind seldom were. He could see it in her eyes, which changed colors with her mood. Witches wore their eyes the way others changed clothes, sometimes this was seasonal and other times it was a direct reflection of their immediate circumstances. The truth of it was, that witches were humans who had a natural sense of the other, which made them uniquely capable of accepting the entirety of the world around them, to the point that they were often seduced by it. They could easily see what others could not, what they had convinced themselves not to see. These eyes he saw looking back at him with the hunger of curiosity, were a Witch-Mark. A sign that one had the potential to command change in the world around them, and in themselves, to adapt, and embrace the otherness of their reality.

“I’m not afraid,” she replied honestly.

He reached out his hand for hers, and as she received it, he moved towards her. before she could react, he had turned her hand bitten it. His teeth penetrated her flesh like fangs, his saliva mixing into her blood, her flood seeping from the wound. She winced, but did not cry out or drawback. “Your blood into my blood,” he said. “I am Adreil… Azir-Adreil, the Edge of Dusk.” Then he licked the wound, and began to clean the blood that had run over into his hand. He reminded her of a cat, cleaning itself after a kill. “I shall be with you now and always, as your companion. I hope that we become quite familiar with one another,” he suggested.

“You don’t imagine yourself too old for me,” she asked.

“”Then I shall wait for you to ripen, though I shall always be near, ever at your call. I shall keep your confidence and your company, and in time you may come to know me. In the mean time, let me assume a form with which you might take comfort. A raven, a wolf, or perhaps a cat. Would you prefer a cat?” He asked. She only nodded, and he became a beautiful black cat, every bit as lovely as he had been a boy.

“Then I shall call you Azreil,” she said quite pleased with the name, as he returned a nod of his own. She had taken to the ground, with her legs tucked to one side, as he made himself comfortable in her lap. Soon he’d closed his eyes and begun to purr. His soft fur shining, as it soaked up the light around them. The light which seemed it could no more escape him, than one might escape gravity. She wondered if demons could only take the form of creatures with black fur or feathers, or if it was simply their preference. their were so many things she wanted to ask him, but for now… this was enough.