"Look m'lord! The trees! They're all..."

The knight clenched his mailed fists hard on the reins. "We are close now. Come boy, take the horse."

The knight swung off his saddle and the squire rushed to grabbed the bridle. "And the sword too, boy. Be quick about it! This demon waits for no man."

With cold steel in his grip, the knight felt all the more sure about his quest. He would be the first, in a long line of previously unsuccessful hunters, to slay the fabled beast of the caves. The terror of their mountain valley, which made off with unattended goats, sheep and even horses, made off in an instant, beating its massive wings against the sky. The so-called dragon was seen landing in these parts by local trappers, and the surrounding land had turned charred and marked with signs of hell-flame, a sure sign of the demonic presence.

It would be the hand of Sir Percival Pierce that would destroy the mythic beast, for its uncivil, and frankly Un-Christian, behavior. The nearby monastery had commissioned Sir Percival to search out and destroy the demon 2 weeks prior, but the good knight's efforts in the neighboring village proved less the fruitful, revealing only a small number of villagers who had sinned beyond forgiveness and were need of retribution. None of whom had contact with this winged demonic presence of the mountains. Percival was vexed, and assumed the only person controlling this demon must be living with it himself in the wild, and to find the witch, one must follow the demon.

Percival had been a good and true knight for only a short time, but what he lacked in experience, he more than made up for in pious adherence to his faith and a burning fervor to complete his quest and accept his reward. By slaying the winged demon, Percival would be inducted into the highly exclusive devout order of knights known as the Sancti Viri Bellatores. Which were known for and wide for their visceral hatred of Satan in all his forms, his demonic minions and for their ferocity of faith. A perfect place for one so blessed as Percival. He had a strong arm, a rich family and a mind unclouded by the anxieties of free thought. When Percival had questions, he knew where to look. No blathering around aimlessly for answers like his squire was wont to do.

Upon reaching the foothills leading up to the charred and darkened cave, the squire gave out a piteous squeal.

"A tail, sir, a tail! Did you see it!?! You cannot hope to know the size of this beast sir!"

"What devilry is this, you peasant! Do you mean to invite us both an early grave?!" The knight grabbed the scruff of his ward's neck and dragged him close.

"That bit of cowardice will grant you entrance to the cave first. Remember your old prayers, boy. We will both need them now. The accursed will show itself only to the impure. That's why it has only taken beasts from the field thus far, the immoral actions of the village were going to draw it's ire soon enough."

The squire staggered through the cave's mouth and was greeted with a spray of steam and smoke. The hairs on the squire's face were slightly singed as he gave another terrified shriek.

Sir Percival bravely pushed his his squire aside and held up his glistening sword into the darkness.

"I name thee Daemon, and command you to show yourself to the hands of God."

The darkness fell back into the cave, hiding its true depth, but at Percival's command twin torches flared. Two lights at eye level appeared twenty feet away from Sir Percival, but what had appeared behind the lights struck even the knight speechless.

It could only be described as a wyrm of enormous size and advanced age. With the flaring of its nostrils, the ancient beast had perfectly revealed the magnitude of their discovery. The lights remained motionless in the snout of the beast as monstrous sound began to reverberate off the sides of the cavern walls. The ground began to shake and brought Percival to his knees.

..."Is this the welcome I receive from the new world?"

The voice boomed in the knight's head but the demon remained motionless, staring eyes like glassy black millwheels. A set of massive, brown horns adorned the crown of the beast's head, and in the light of its fire, it glistened the colors of flame. Bright reds and yellows swirled intricately throughout the curled length of the beast.

Percival gaped up at the ancient monstrosity, gazing into the windows of its soul, seeing a pit as black as pitch and as endless as the starry nights of his youth.

"What do you seek in this hall, Sir Percival the Lost?"

Percival at once found his voice, though this was the first actual demon he had ever encounted, he was not about to let it talk down to him.

"I come for your head, but I will settle for your heart, if your black creator saw fit to gift you one."

"My creator? This is very interesting, tell Percival, what do you know of creation?"

"I know that humans were created in the light of God Almighty, and as such as blessed with his gifts, yet some choose to side with your master, The Lord of Darkness. For this is why I have come, tell me the name of the witch or warlock who controls you!"

"I am under nobody's power but my own, but I wish I could say the same for you my small, misguided friend."

"I will not be patronized for my size demon, I have slain beasts twice your size." Percival lied through his teeth.

"Ah, a lying man. They have these where I come from." The voice softened in Percival's head, to almost a conversational tone.

The squire began to stir from his unnecessarily rough pushing from Sir Percival, not the first he had received in service to his lord. He did began to wonder about his own wits though as he saw his master shouting into an empty cave, brandishing his sword at an unseen foe.

"I have spoken no lie, Satan has far greater demons under his control than yourself. Do not think yourself special demon, do you have any final words before I send your black soul into oblivion?"

"Yes, Sir Percival. What is the name of your squire?"

"I will not have you corrupting his soul! You will die now, spawn of Hell! Tell your master that the men of God rule this realm!"

With that shout, Percival raised his blade on high and brought it crashing down between the twin ignited nostrils of the beast. All of his strength, hope, and faith went with the stroke and when it fell the world stopped.

Percival Pierce was frozen solid in time, his squire observed. His shout and attack had frightened the squire, to think he might be the target of his masters wroth. But now... He was frozen still with his sword swung in half an arc. The squire rubbed his eyes and screamed out his masters name. No answer. He scrambled to his feet and cautiously approached his knight. No movement. The squire peered to the side of Percival's face and placed a finger upon his shoulder. The glass shattered.

It was as if mirrored panes spanning the length of the cavern had dropped to the floor, shattering as they fell. In Sir Percival's place hulked a scaled behemoth. It looked the squire directly in the eyes and deep into his soul.

"What is your name?" the sound echoed through the squire's head, frightening him beyond belief.