A Heart of Surrender
Sweat beaded his forehead, trickling down his face like spiders falling from above, suspended by silver threads as they glistened in the light. The small window that sat above the bed was uncovered by curtain or drape and sunlight shone through the glass unhindered. Waking slowly, Tor sat up, wincing in pain. His body was sore, unbearably so, and his head throbbed, slightly blurring his vision. His heart still raced in his chest as he recalled what he thought was a nightmare.

“The devil, I made a pact with the devil… I was in hell. I was in hell because I… was murdered.” He fumbled over his words, a characteristic foreign to the man he once was. Rising from the small bed he began to recall the events of his murder. A man owed him money; hence he kidnapped the man’s wife in order for the payment to be made. Pacing the length of the modest room, he replayed in his mind the events that occurred as a result of the woman’s escape from him. He could remember feeling such a heavy presence of anger and injustice as he murdered her husband in cold blood; the man was not even armed. Tor felt a sickening nausea in the pit of his stomach. Before, he was unaffected by murder and death. In the field of assassination, he was genius; it was his living. Now, he felt repulsed by the idea of taking a life and sending it to hell. He had been there. He suffered torture and anguish like no living man on earth had suffered and it somehow altered him in the process. How, he did not know, but the memory of the murders he committed still lingered in the room, suffocating him. He needed to get out; he needed air. Quickly dressing, he left the room. Entering the dim-lit hallway, he collided into someone.

“I apologize,” he stated as he turned the opposite way to leave, but something grabbed his arm. The man stood before him, dressed all in black. He was tall and had an aura about him that left Tor in unfathomable terror. He had no face.
“Love no one,” the man breathed, “and remember; your soul is mine.”
Stumbling backwards, Tor turned and ran out of the inn. Glancing behind he saw that the name of the place was Holst Inn. Never would he return there again.

Months later Tor found work as an assistant to the city barrister. He had always had a fascination for law, but he had only just recently begun to support the legitimate side of its principles, in light of his pervious line of work. He made good money and he no longer had the blood of innocents on his hands.
Tor knew he had to make a new life for himself, but unable to fall in love, he avoided the idea of marriage and a family altogether, living the life of an unmarried bachelor. This did nothing to keep young women away. He found that entertaining women could be done without falling in love. So as the number of his female company grew, the further his emotions and actions detached from one another. He knew that if he could get away with making love, without falling in love, he would never fall victim to the devil.
Tor’s success continued to grow. His financial achievement was rapidly increasing and he was never without company to warm his bed. At the week’s end Tor left the office late, per usual, and decided to have a drink at the local inn and possibly find a woman to satisfy him for the evening. Sauntering into the tavern, he noticed at once a young woman, petite, with fire red hair standing in the middle of the room. As he walked up to her she turned, facing him. The sight of her caused his breath to hitch in his throat. It was not that she was of particular beauty or pleasing to the eye, but she had a strong, sure look about her that immediately caught him off guard. Freckles large and small adorned her oval face and her blue-green eyes were sharp and calculating. As she stared at him, he felt as if he was stripped bare for all to see. Never before had he ever felt so vulnerable before a woman.
Rather than seek her out, he simply turned and ordered a drink for himself. He would let her come to him. There was something different about her, and he was curious of her interest in him.
Suddenly he felt a grip around his throat like at vice. At first he saw nothing, and then slowly a black figure appeared before him. The leather-gloved hands were colder than ice and a familiar sense of terror pressed down on Tor. Frantically he tried to pry the hold from around his throat but it was of no use. Gazing up at his assailant, he saw that he had no face. Tor’s eyes widened in recognition and he opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
“You have remained out of my grasp and on your own for some time now. I suggest you continue with that,” the dark figure tightened his grip on Tor’s throat as he spoke, “besides, love cannot save you now, nothing can. You are mine and always will be, remember that.” The vice around Tor’s throat slowly dissipated as the figure in black faded away. Breathing heavy, eyes wild, he clutched at his throat. Minutes later the red haired woman stood before him.
“My, my, it looks as if you just saw the devil himself,” she teased, “I thought to save you from asking and tell you my name is Anya.” She sat down beside Tor, looking at him, waiting for a response.
“Di-did you see the man… the man in black? “Tor grabbed at his throat, “The man that had me by throat?”
“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, but I think you’ve had just a little too much ale,” she winked at Tor before taking a mouthful from her own drink. Tor shook his head as if to free his vision of something and cleared his throat. Taking a drink of ale he smiled at Anya.
“I apologize; I was recalling an event that happened to me in the past. You see, I fought in the Prussian war and I am still trying to conquer horrors that remain in my mind from things that happened in the field. But enough of my stories, they are a bore. Tell me of you,” Tor smiled mischievously as he moved closer to Anya.
“I was here to visit my brother in Gerrios, the next town over. I am leaving for home soon.” At the mention of Gerrios, Tor’s heart leapt into his throat.
“Gerrios? The town with the age old castle near the top of the hill?” Tor suddenly longed to be by the warmth of his fireplace as he once had many years before.
“Yes, but it has not been inhabited for almost 100 years. It is so old and decrepit now,” she took another mouthful of ale. “It is getting late; I must return to the Inn I am staying at, it was a pleasure to meet you.”
“Why not join me for a coffee at my own home? I assure you, it will be much more delightful than spending the night alone at an Inn. I will take care of the expenses, no need to worry.” Tor rose to his feet as he spoke, offering his hand for Anya to take.
“Well, I don’t think I could refuse such a generous offer,” she said as she moved dangerously close to Tor.

Weeks had past, and every night Tor went to the tavern to seek out Anya. Every night she was there, waiting for him. Women flaunted themselves at Tor, looking for attention from him, but he found that he was no longer interested in what they offered. His mind was solely consumed by thoughts of Anya. He had never felt this way before, but it was not a feeling he wanted to be rid of. They way she smiled when she teased him, how she looked straight into his eyes as they talked, how soft she spoke into his ear after they had made love, how night after night she was always waiting for him, thoughts of her never left his mind.
Daylight shone through the thin curtain over the window. Tor awoke to the feel of something weighing down on the crook of his arm, a sensation he would never tire of. He watched as Anya’s eyes fluttered open in the sunlight and he planted a kiss on her nose. She smiled up at him.
“Let us go for a walk my love,” Tor murmured as he rose to dress.
The cool morning air caressed their faces, refreshing their senses as they walked hand in hand through the wood. Anya sighed in contentment as she leaned against Tor’s arm. Tor came to a sudden stop as he became overwhelmed with a strong feeling of dread. He knew he had to tell her, he could not keep lying to her, but he couldn’t stand to lose her either. Anya released her hold on his arm and turned to face him.
“Tor, what is the matter? Have I done something to offend you?” Anya felt in a panic, a quality strange to her normally composed manner. She did not know why, but she felt an underlying anxiety as she had never felt before, as if something much greater was about to occur. Tor breathed deep before looking Anya in the eye.

“I have something to confess to you,” unsure of how to continue, Tor just let his emotions take over, “I was once a very powerful man. But I did not earn my power through honour, by no means. I killed; I killed many people for money. I became so proficient with the art assassination that I myself began to orchestrate assassination of all manners. One man, Mathias, owed to me a debt. To pay this debt I… kidnapped his wife so that I could trap him. She eluded me and I went after the family. It became an obsession; it was all I could think about. I found them together in their home, happy. I was filled with such disdain that I killed him but I too was killed. I am not who you think I am. I never fought in the Prussian war. I was in hell. For almost one hundred years. That castle we spoke of before, that was once my home. I made a pact with the devil to live again. I gave him my soul Anya.” She took a small step back as Tor spoke, “but with you, I feel as if I’ve had my soul all along. I fear that something will happen to us, something horrible. You see, the devil forbid me to fall in love, but I have broken that vow. I have fallen in love with you Anya,” Tor turned away from Anya, unable to watch her reaction. He could hear Anya softly crying.
“Tor, I do not care for what you have done in the past. We are together now, and that is what we shall live for,” Ayna grabbed Tor’s arm to turn him around but a powerful force violently knocked them both to the ground.
“FOOL! I told you, love no one. You have broken our agreement, so now you will have to pay,” an immense, dark figure arose above them, its presence weighing down on them so heavily that they could not move. The figure in black grabbed Anya by the hair and pulled her up so that she was several feet off of the ground. Tears flooded down her face as she screamed in pain. Tor screamed for Anya’s innocence, but it went unheard.
“Now you will learn never to take my word lightly. It will be on your hands, the blood of your lover and your unborn child,” he seethed. Tor froze. Unborn child? Anya was with child? Tears fell freely from his eyes.
“No, please! Anything but that. She has done nothing wrong!” Tor pleaded.
“That is not my concern.” The devil laughed, “Does that sound familiar to you Tor?” He laughed again, the sound piercing through Tor’s body. As he spoke Tor withdrew a dagger from his belt.
“You can never have her. I give myself up for her freedom, doomed forever to your kingdom. Anya, live strong for me, my love,” Tor reached toward her as he spoke. He took the dagger to his heart before Anya could protest.
As suddenly as he appeared, the devil disappeared from the wood. Anya was left alone; sobs violently racked her small frame as she clung to Tor’s cold, lifeless body.