Demon or not, it didn't matter, suffering was everywhere he looked.

Christians. They’re determined to rid the land of any who worship the Horned One. Murdering all the druids, burning the temples, sometimes whole villages, and knocking over the standing stones.” The Lady’s face hardened. “This god of peace and love certainly likes to bathe the land in blood.

But Peter had seen too much, knew too well that men-kind didn't need an excuse to be cruel and murder one another.

Peter stood, cleared his throat, and began to hum softly, then sing, slowly building up the song as his voice cleared. He found the old tune, the song of the Sunbird. And as he sung, as his rich voice echoed off the tall cliffs, the birds and the faeries lent him their voice and soon the tune drifted throughtout the garden.

What will happen, will happen.

Demon or not, it didn't matter, suffering was everywhere he looked.

And Peter laughed, and when he did, all the Devils grinned, because Peter's laugh was a most contagious thing.