Frank Janson peered down at the now slumped over body in front of him and his partner Mark. Both men were sweating profusely as they attempted to lift the body up. Chloroform had knocked him out cold, but that didn’t make carrying the 6’4”, 240 lbs. young man any easier. The young man was named Matthius according to the information they were given. He smelled like a distillery mixed with the nauseating stench of vomit. His gray t-shirt was steeped in blood from the wound on his head. He looked rather pathetic in his plaid boxers covered in vomit. Frank felt sorry for him. Poor kid. He didn’t deserve this curse. I wish I didn’t have to draw you in further, kid; but I have no choice. You may be our only hope. 

They had been ordered to bring him to the Sanctum. Their order, known as the Vizacs, had a great interest in him; Frank and Mark were to bring him before their leader, Zachariah Treagar. Both, he and his partner, were the best the order had to offer. Frank grunted in frustration at the thought of this. He had been in the order his whole life, but it never failed that when an initiate or at least, hopeful initiate, needed a nudge into the right direction or to be rescued from themselves as so often was the case, he was always called. He wasn’t a young man anymore; his graying hair proved that. 

After the disaster in 2007 though, the order had suffered. Where once so many young men and women had the gift, those numbers had begun to dwindle. Their enemies, however, had grown in power and influence. Wherever they went, corrupted minds and devastation followed. The order utilized all their members to stop this infestation, but they were too weak to make a substantial impact. 

Desperation had settled into their organization like a parasite feeding off their insecurities and growing doubts of the validity of their once noble cause. Had their enemies finally won the war? Not if he had anything to do about it. He ran his hand across his unkempt silver-gray beard. It was time for the procedure. This kid's life depended on him remaining focused.

“Let's lay him on the bed here, Mark. We gotta stop the bleeding. “ Frank instructed.

“Sure thing, Frank.” Mark grunted.

They heaved the limp body onto the queen size bed staining the light blue sheets with crimson red blood. Sinking into the soft mattress, Frank sat down beside Matthius’s body. What a fucking mess. Sorry, kid. I guess, I'm gonna owe you some new sheets. Aww, what the hell. I guess I’m getting soft in my old age. 

Frank had the rarest gift of them all. He was what the order called an Iach or, in layman terms, a healer. He had no medical degree; however, his gift was something much more special. As he sat by the young man, he gingerly rolled him over to examine the head injury. 

“Shit, he did a number to himself. Hold him steady for me will you, Mark.” 

Mark reached over the young man’s body using one arm to keep him in place on his side. What happened next could not be explained by science or any theory developed by man. Frank’s hand began to radiate; a golden light emanating forth from them. Though he had witnessed this very sight, many times previously, Mark was enamored by it. Frank smirked, satisfied that his gift still impressed even his oldest of colleagues, but realizing that the young man didn't have much more time to spare, he once more focused his attention on the task before him. He gently positioned it upon the kid’s head. Matthius shuddered but remained dormant. His body illuminated as light coursed through it sealing, not only, the gaping wound in the scalp, but also, delving much deeper. 

Inhaling deeply, he felt a strain in his chest as his heart, once filled with light, was now overtaken by the darkness he had taken upon himself. That is what the gifts were. They were powerful, yes; they were incredibly powerful, but there was always a consequence that followed them. He was able to heal even the most detrimental of afflictions; however, each time he did so, he absorbed the darkness with that person.

This young man was overflowing with darkness to an extent that Frank had not seen for decades. Whatever demon had taken hold of this Matthius’ body was a goddamn nightmare. He sensed the power this demon had, but he didn’t know who it could be. Whoever was afflicting this kid, Frank knew that it was far from over. 

“Something sinister is at play here, Mark.” He said solemnly. “Whomever this kid has attached to his soul, it is more powerful than any demon we have faced in many, many years.”

“We have to tell the others. In the meantime, what are we going to tell this guy when he wakes up?” Mark inquired.

Frank could sense the weariness in his partner's voice. What were they going to do now? Matthius was out of imminent danger; nevertheless, when he awoke, they would have to supply him with the truth. Could he handle the truth? Did he already know the truth? Was that where the darkness came from? Had the demon been brazen enough to reveal himself to the kid? All these questions rushed through his head. 

“All we can do is tell him the truth. What happens from there will be up to him.” He answered. “If he doesn’t accept the truth, though, or he fights against it, heaven forbid what will happen then. “

“We have to believe he will accept the truth.” 

“Yes. That is, of course, all our wish, but I wonder, if this kid follows the path, what if it becomes too much for him. Every action has consequences and no matter how dire our situation is, we must be prepared for what will happen if he can’t handle his gift. The burden may be enough to break him.”

“Shit, I hadn’t necessarily thought of that before.” Mark said ashamed. 

“Don’t beat yourself up. In all our years of this damn war, we haven’t faced a situation like this. Our order is suffering. Things are falling through the cracks, and mistakes that were never made before. It’s because we are exhausted though.” Frank consoled. “Many of us are so oppressed by the many burdens we have taken on that we can barely function.” 

Mark knew that what Frank spoke of was an all too real reality. “We need a fucking miracle, huh, Frank?”

“Jesus Christ, himself, can’t save us from the hell that is coming, I fear.” Frank replied. “What I took from that kid has truly disturbed my soul. I believe that our past mistakes may be coming to bring a reckoning.”