To lay eyes upon Kaylan is to glimpse the very robes of death. Enwrapped in his black wings he appears a fallen angel of the nine hells. As you stare, his head emerges above the shadow of feathers, his deep green eyes glowing, melting, boring into you. With a flick, his wings fly out revealing his dark armor and gruesome looking morning star. You flee that which promises your end.

You run past alleyways and crowded places. Quick glimpses offer nothing to your senses. Darting down one particular alley an arrow strikes your leg. Tumbling to the ground, you look back in time to see a dark winged figure float to the ground with long large talons. The figure draws back his wings and flicks them forward, spattering you with gel like liquid. Agony courses through your veins. Fear takes your feet to flight, but a rush of wind behind you serves as the harbinger of your end. You look up from the ground, unsure of how you got there.

A piercing pain in your back reminds of the shredded flesh on your back from a razor edged shield. A dark tan arm reaches out from the cover of wings and picks you up to meet the gaze of those emerald eyes. “Tell all you meet that it was I who struck you down from the living perch to the filth in which you will soon preside.” The smooth melodic voice leaves you stunned. But a cool feeling on your back snaps you into consciousness. An empty vial clangs to the ground. A drop falls forth spilling to the pavement which instantly corrodes away.

Your fate is known to you, but the cool feeling continues as you slip into blackness. The last sight imprinted on your soul is that of a sickle crossed with a hammer dangling from a silver chain.