The night air was cold as Galahad slept in the narrow alleyway between two abandoned buildings.
The city had long since gone quiet, leaving only the distant sounds of taverns and the occasional clatter of carriage wheels passing along the main roads. A weak lantern hung near the end of the alley, casting just enough light to reveal the worn figure resting against the wall.
Galahad slept lightly.
Years of living on the streets had taught him that deep sleep was dangerous. His body reacted to the smallest sounds, ready to wake at the slightest sign of trouble.
So when soft footsteps entered the alley, his eyes slowly opened.
A figure stood at the far end of the alleyway.
The person wore a long black cloak that concealed their entire body, the hood casting a shadow over their face. Despite the darkness, Galahad could feel the figure watching him.
Slowly he sat up.
"You picked the wrong place," Galahad muttered, his voice rough from sleep. "I don't have anything worth stealing."
The cloaked figure did not move.
Instead, a calm voice answered him.
"I know."
The voice was strangely smooth, almost pleasant.
"I did not come to rob you."
Galahad frowned slightly.
"Then what do you want?"
The figure began walking forward.
Their footsteps echoed softly against the stone walls until they stopped a few feet away from him.
"I came to make you an offer."
Galahad let out a tired sigh.
"Look, if this is about joining some gang, I'm not interested."
The figure chuckled quietly.
"Oh, it is much more than that."
For a moment the alley grew completely silent.
Then the cloaked stranger spoke again.
"I know who you are, Galahad."
The words immediately sharpened Galahad's attention.
Few people in the city knew his name anymore.
"You are the child born to House Aldine," the figure continued calmly. "The boy abandoned by the gods themselves. The one born with a single arm and no divine blessing."
Galahad's eyes narrowed.
"You've done your research," he said coldly.
The figure tilted their head slightly.
"You were cast aside by your family, beaten by the guards of your own father, and left to survive in the streets like a stray animal."
Galahad remained silent.
Every word was true.
"Tell me," the stranger continued, "have you ever wondered why?"
Galahad slowly stood up.
"People like me don't get answers," he replied. "That's just how the world works."
The cloaked figure stepped closer.
"I could change that."
The words hung in the air between them.
"I can give you power," the stranger said quietly. "Power beyond anything the gods ever intended for you to have."
Galahad said nothing.
"With that power," the figure continued, "you could take revenge on those who ruined your life. The nobles who cast you aside. The guards who beat you. Even the gods who cursed you from the moment you were born."
The stranger's voice grew softer.
"I could give you wealth… influence… women… anything you desire."
The alley fell silent again.
For a moment Galahad simply stared at the cloaked figure.
Then he shook his head.
"No."
The stranger paused.
"No?" the figure repeated.
Galahad's voice was calm but firm.
"I've heard the rumors."
He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
"Dark cultists walking the streets at night, offering deals to desperate people. Promising power if they join their little rebellion against the gods."
The cloaked figure remained still.
Galahad gave a quiet snort.
"You think I'm stupid enough to fall for that?"
"You would refuse power?" the stranger asked.
"Yes."
The answer came immediately.
Galahad looked up at the night sky above the alley.
"Fighting the gods would be suicide," he said plainly. "Anyone who believes they can win that kind of fight is either insane or already dead."
The cloaked figure said nothing.
"And even if it wasn't suicide," Galahad continued, "I still wouldn't do it."
He looked back at the stranger.
"I've spent my whole life being used by people stronger than me. I'm not about to become some devil's pawn just because he promises me a better life."
The alley fell quiet.
For several seconds the cloaked figure simply stood there.
Then the stranger began to laugh.
It wasn't a cruel laugh.
If anything, it sounded… amused.
"Interesting," the figure said.
Galahad frowned.
"What's so funny?"
The stranger slowly turned away.
"Nothing," the figure replied. "I simply enjoy meeting people who surprise me."
The cloaked man took a few steps toward the end of the alley before stopping.
"Tell me, Galahad," the stranger said without turning around.
"If the gods themselves stood before you one day… would you still refuse them?"
Galahad didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
The answer was simple.
The cloaked figure laughed again.
"Then perhaps we will meet again someday."
And with that, the stranger disappeared into the darkness of the street.
Galahad watched the empty alley for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh.
"Cultists…"
He shook his head before sitting back down against the wall.
Within minutes, he had fallen asleep again.
He never realized that the figure who had spoken with him that night was not a cultist.
Nor did he realize that he had just rejected an offer from the Devil himself.