Her voice, a melody in the light of the sun. Silas felt Sky’s hand in his, pulling him forward.

'Silas! Come on!' 

Laughter in an echo, floating away on the summer breeze. 

Fingers entwined, he saw her smile. Red hair lifting with her body’s turn. Green eyes of an emerald forest known only to him. He tried to keep up with her pace, pushing against the world of weight pulling him down.

Her hand slipped from his and in desperation, he tried to snatch it back but she became a ghost in his sight. The sky darkened to black and in that darkness, Silas watched helpless as Sky was sucked away from him. She screamed his name and the remnant of her voice lingered. 

'No,' Silas breathed. 'No, no, no, no, Sky!'

He grasped the black, pushing his hands through it as  he were swimming. Without a sense of direction, Silas shuffled forward in the way he thought Sky had gone. 

'Sky!' He heaved. His body was a lead weight against his will. He stumbled, hitting his knees against hard ground in a world that was an obscure black. 

He stopped.  

Clenching his fists, Silas howled into the dark but its sound died away and soon, his struggles quelled. His body rising and falling against the deep breaths he pulled into himself, he hung his head.

He began to remember. 

Everything.

Another deep breath. 

His body shuddering, his marked hand gripped his chest. If he wanted to save the light of his life, he would have to descend deeper into darkness. He would let it in, all to become something more. He would resist no longer.

'Make me yours and I will follow.' He breathed into the black.

My Silas,

The black spoke his name, the shadows surrounding him swirling. 

listen.

Silas' eyes remained closed and he listened. His mind calmed, and his body stilled. 

Hear it.

The shadows whispered nothings in his ear in passing. 

Feel it. 

The black flowed through his fingers.

Taste it. 

Into his mouth and nose, the darkness seeped. 

Touch it. 

Flowing across his skin like cold water, Silas shivered.

Obey it. The darkness calls to you. It is time to answer it.

It caressed his limbs. The shadow enticed Silas into the embrace it offered and he accepted its touch. 

 If you can pay the toll for your soul's passage, then without chains or the plague of corruption for your sins, you may have your desired place among the Fallen. There is no going back. You will either pass through the flames of what you may become, or die.  

Opening his gaze wide, the black pools of Silas' eyes began to change. They smoldered with a fire that revealed every mystery of the dark.

My Hellhound. Cerberus.

The black dissolved away. 

In his sights, he was standing within an inner city alley of that Other New York. Discarded boxes and garbage lined the narrow path between the damp brick walls. Ahead, Silas' wide sight zeroed in. 

Someone was walking away from him. 

The weight on his legs disappeared and without another thought, he followed behind the one ahead. His breathing deepened. Each lung full of air filling his senses. Honed in a way Silas had never felt before. It was as though he were waking after years of slumber. 

Half hunched, swaying as they walked and searched for balance, the figure was leaving a trail of blood in their wake ahead of him.

Not questioning why, Silas lowered his face to the ground, taking a deep inhale of the blood’s scent left amidst the smell of everything else. His ember eyes watched the swaying figure. Stepping closer, he was about to make his presence known when he stopped himself. Realizing the horrible truth of the one who was trying pitifully to walk away, Silas could only watch in disbelief at the sight.

His dying self.

The entire right side of his body was soaked with blood. Dripping from the torn fleshy stump that had once been his arm. The arm that had held Sky and the chains. Now there were no chains and there was no Sky. Faust had amputated their connection and stolen her in a perverted twist of fate.  

Silas was now, for some unknown reason, walking home towards the Temple Court. He was far from where he had been but something called him to keep walking. A slow march towards death. 

Suddenly the weak shuffling came to an end and collapsing under his own weight, Silas lay in a heap on the ground. Lucifer was right in knowing that he would certainly be dead within the hour. By his own strength, he could not rise. Heaving, a cold sweat dripped from his forehead. He was shivering and more tired than he had ever felt in his life. He drew air in gulps into his lungs, losing his grip on consciousness. The world was getting darker as his vision tunneled. 

"Yona!" His voice was breathless. Could she hear him if he spoke her name? He rolled slowly onto his side. His eyes closed, Silas listened to his own shallow breaths. The irony of it all made a pitiful laugh rise within him. It was weak and barely audible, but it resonated for it was the first time in that Other World that Silas had ever laughed. 

In his hallucinations, he felt a breath close to his ear before a sharp exhale near his cheek. Weak, he tried to wave it away, but it persisted before a deep bark cut the empty air of the alley. 

Death was a dog and it was coming to take him? The world faded in and out. 

Footsteps neared and as unconsciousness tried to take him, Yona's voice was there, 

"Silas," It would be the voice to keep him awake. Like a spell that kept him at the surface of a dream. "Silas, can you hear me?" 

He could hear her loud and clear but no longer could he open his eyes. Like a stone, he couldn't move. 

Yona...

He felt numb.

"Silas," Her voice faded, his mind dipping back into the still nothingness but returning moments later. "you're dying." 

He tried to shake his head against her statement. But he made little to no movement at all. 

You will become something... more.

From the obscurity there were hands. Lifting him, Silas was carried away. He was taken somewhere but no longer could he see. He clung to consciousness, trapped within the broken thing that was his body. 

Undressed of his bloodied clothes, he was prepped for what was to come. His lifeless body was cleaned, Yona’s voice returned. 

"Congratulations on your promotion," He heard her say. The secretary looked upon the Collector’s bare chest covered in blood and scars. "Your new Contract is ready for your review and signature." 

All you have to do is sign.

A bladed pen fell into his grip, slicing the skin as it had at the first signing. Silas could not write but he tried. Blood stained the page. His hand jerked as he made the feeble attempt at an x. Unable to do more, the pen fell from his fingers, but the deed had been done. 

First silence, then fire, replacing the numbness in the bloodied stump where his arm had been. Something pressed against the wound and a bolt of electricity shot through him. 

Silas' eyes flew open. Eyes that were no longer the eyes of black. They were Dæmon. Glowing coals of chatoyancy, glinting with the fires of Hell. 

Hell's medical coverage were field doctors that set up wherever they could. Silas was prepped for surgery in what was obviously not a hospital. It was a butchery. In that room where flesh was sliced from bone, what remained of his tattered clothing was removed. He was strapped down onto a steel table, a length of wood placed between his clenched teeth.

In the world of the Other's, there was no sedation.

Another arm was surgically attached in the place of what he’d lost. Bone and tendon were being stapled and sutured onto the bloody remains of the stump protruding from Silas' shoulder. It was a thing from Hell being joined to him. Black talons and obsidian scales covered the limb's length right to where, near the shoulder, there was pale skin again. The shadows that had stained him had receded. Bone was stapled to bone and burning string sewn into muscle. On that border between human and Dæmon, glowing hot metal staples were punched into the white and black to keep the new appendage attached. 

Silas' muffled screams shook the room. Fighting against what bound him, the ones who were operating did not stop. His body twitched and his mind dragged into delirium. It was a mad experiment and Silas was the guinea pig. 

This was his promotion. 

A new kind of Soul Collector. 

Within moments of being attached, the arms' black seeped into the white of Silas' shoulder. Accepting its host, the Dæmon arm was now to become as much a part of Silas as Sky had been. It would be the new way he collected. 

Sky...

No one understood why everything was for her. 

When it was over, the world stilled and fell into silence. Silas was unstrapped and left as he was and Hell's doctors disappeared into the night. Lifeless, yet with a wide and unblinking gaze of glowing embers, Silas stared at the ceiling.  

Something in him had changed. The Contract no longer mattered. How could it? He made his choice and there was no going back to what he had been. 

Before long, the silence was interrupted with Miss Yona's red gaze looming into his field of view. 

"Nice eye color." She remarked on the change of Silas' new Dæmonic eye color. When he didn't move, Yona only grinned further, waving her hand in his face. "Hello? Are you dead? Did they kill you?"  

When her voice registered in his thoughts, Silas turned his head to her. His marked hand unscathed reached over his bare chest to the new arm that had been attached. He touched scales of smooth black glass. His new arm lifted by his mind's command to reach back to human touch. Human was a relative term as he was human no longer. He was something else. Something that bridged that divide between human and Dæmon. An adopted child of Lucifer's. Something that bent the rules. Claws of sharp talons replaced each finger, while wisps of black shadow rose from the limb itself. It's darkness, a devourer of the light. 

Silas sat up, machine-like and rigid, his wide eyes on Hell's secretary. Looking slowly from her to the arm of darkness, Silas calmly flexed his elbow and the taloned fingers on his new hand.

"Silas," Yona said, bringing his round eyed attention back to her. "I know this is a lot to take in at once but I think you can appreciate how limited we are on time. As you must give me a moment to explain as much as I can, there is someone here that has been waiting to meet you. Without his help, we never would have found you as fast as we did."

Silas' stared at her, watching as she stepped to the side, her arm extending in introduction to the one the Collector hadn't noticed sitting like a statue behind her. An obedient shadow, waiting his turn. With ears sharpened and perked, an enormous black Great Dane sat. It's gaze matching Silas' own.

"I'm sure that he needs no introduction, considering. So as Lucifer promised, as part of your promotion, you've been granted Dæmon ranks despite being human born. This I'm sure is great and all, but knowing you, I'm certain the most important thing you were waiting for is your soul to be returned."

Returned a hellhound. 

The entire situation had never happened before. The world would find out soon enough and it was for certain Heaven would be vocal in its objections to such a blasphemous contract that went far beyond anything the Devil had ever attempted. 

Silas slid from the table towards the dog, its black coat glossy and smooth. With a sense of regal obedience, it remained watchful of the approaching Collector. Kept as a part of a very private collection, Silas' soul had been well taken care of in Lucifer's possession. Returned, disciplined and trained, Silas was in awe of what he'd become. 

Coming to a slow kneel before the animal, Silas reached out. His marked hand moved to the dog's muscular neck and shoulder, gliding over the creature's slick coat as it huffed in acknowledgement. Something stirred within Silas. 

Through their eyes, a conversation. 

"You can name him whatever you like if you are into doing that sort of thing. Lucifer called him Cerberus. Silas is fine, I suppose, but it may get confusing if we start calling you both by that name." Yona said, watching the Soul Collector bond with the dog.

Cerberus. The name suited it well.

While preoccupied in his reunion and imprinting, Yona extended to him a large white paper gift bag she had been holding out of sight.

"This is for you," 

Opening the bag for him, she lifted out a new suit and its accessories. 

"Your clothes were a mess. They couldn't even be cleaned. If you're going to be Dæmon, then you'd better start dressing like it. Never a blemish or stain, ok? I had my tailor take a look at your size. These should be more than adequate." 

Designer shirt and tie, vest, pants, jacket and shoes. They were all new, and they were all for him. 

"You're welcome," She mused in thought while looking at what the doctors had done. The new arm not feeling any different in place than his arm before, Silas stood slowly from the Hellhound and changed. "Now, for your briefing."

Yona never wasted time in getting down to business. 

"Every Other of this city saw the epic light show from across the river. They know something is coming. Something that is supposed to change everything. Rumors of Faust's return are rampant and when they see Sky with him, everyone will think you are dead. I am sure that was Faust's plan from the minute he met her. You, in theory, let go, so you are no longer the one in control of her. He is. The good news being he cannot use the chains as you did. They are non-recoverable at this point."

Yona shook her head, looking at Cerberus who was waiting patiently as the Silas dressed. The massive creature stood at the ready, and its height made it a giant among canine kind. 

"You weren't supposed to get your arm torn off, Silas." She scolded. "Are you aware of what is about to happen? Faust is about to shake this world with Sky at his side. You have to stop him before he starts pushing limits and breaking more laws. Because he will. And he'll be laughing the entire way. So, yeah, you need to stop him. Now. I mean like, right now. I don't even want to think of the paperwork that's coming."

Dressed, Silas was around Yona to the exit, Cerberus at his side. The arm of black glass was alive with shadow, lifting in visible wafts like smoke from his new limb.

"Silas! Wait," Yona called out after the Collector and hound from the doorway of the butcher's abattoir used as a mock operating room. Both stopped at her call. "I don't know how extreme the measures will be that you will have to take. I don't even know where he will appear next. All I know is that the window to help Sky is growing smaller with every passing second and you have to get to her before she is forced to sow the seeds this world's destruction."

Looking to Yona, the Collector adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. The black shadow of the new appendage began to seep through the arm of his jacket, devouring the fabric.

"I will find Faust,"  Silas said calmly, resting a hand on the head of the waiting Cerberus. He knew exactly where he needed to go next. "I will find him and rip the beating heart from his chest."