The Voodoo Doll

Chapter XLVII: Curious

I had to see him with my own eyes.

The boy that  everyone seems to make a fuss about.

I'm amazed how Belleth just let me come with him to the boy's training sessions. He must trust me deeply.

What a fool.

Come to think of it, they're all fools. Letting a mere human do their dirty work for them is basically opening the door for betrayal. Both Belleth and Michael think they have got me on a leesh. Yet, the opposite is true.

I am a free spirit.

Lailah thought she had it all figured out. She was the Queen of angels, after all. She had no need for a human after giving birth to a holy child. She ditched me like the garbage she thought I was. She used me like human livestock, she disposed of me thinking I will never come back to her life.

Until I took her own son from her.

It was as easy as baking an apple pie. The guards still trusted me, the Oracles let me in with happy faces.

I took the baby, and I left.

Now, I have to see what became of the baby, not because Michael ordered me to, but because my curiosity got the better of me. Not because Belleth let me inside the fake house, but because I let myself, knowing I was a faithful servant of the demon King.

I am a free spirit, after all.

The first time I saw him, he was on his knees, his forehead touching the floor. His face was invisible to me, but his mere presence chilled me to the bone. He withered in pain, low wailing coming out of his lips.

The first day, I sat on a faraway chair, watching him as he stood up over and over again, his legs trembling, his lower lip bleeding, his eyes scarlet red, spitting out pure hatred.

He used himself as a target. He always held a small knife, inflicting wounds on his forearms, only for them to be projected on a human victim, chained to the adjacent wall, hollowed eyes and ragged clothes, bloodied limbs that have mixed with the dirt of the basement, looking like a doll that has been abandoned for ages.

His wounds would heal shortly after, and as three days went by, the boy stopped using himself as a voodoo doll, and started training with a sword instead. A pitch black sword, its hilt shining with lava, as though it was made from the deepest pits of Hell. He always fought with Belleth, and he always lost.

The black wings grew on the fifth day. Tiny feathers appeared on his naked back. I heard from Belleth that the tea his mother gave him was finally doing its job. On that same day, I decided to approach him. Alone in the dark basement, in the rare minutes of rest Belleth gave him, he looked like a wounded animal, caressing his aching arms, putting bandages on his injured legs.

"Hello" , I dared to say, leaning to the level of his colorless eyes.

"Aren't you the dog who hides in my master's shadow" , he spat. It wasn't really a question. It was a pure manifestation of words as sharp as his hellish sword. He looked up from his wounds only to glare at me, his eyes turning the color of his blood.

I put both palms up in surrender. "I'm not who you think I am, but you don't care about that, do you?"

"What do you want? I'm busy with my training. Leave me be" , he hissed, a grimace twisting his scarred lips.

"Who are you? Who are you, really, Noah Redwood?"

The question seemed to catch him off guard. His eyes widened, his grimace disappeared, his lips remained half open, watching me closely, waiting for me to say more. I didn't. I waited too.