The church's teachings had been engraved into her head: " Honor thy father and mother. Honor thy brothers and sisters. Honor the dead and honored. Protect the poor. Serve the needy. And serve yourself. Do no wrong." It was a constant refrain, something she'd memorized and recited as a girl until she couldn't, her throat constricting upon itself until her pastor ran a hand along her throat, insisting she continue in the Lord's name.
The pastor would stand behind the altar, speaking of the the children born with sin etched into their very being; those children born with the words of the Fallen etched into their hearts. Those children whom wielded the power of the dark, whose souls had to be taken to kuve under the light of the heavens in order to avoid the wrath of God Himself.
When the Pastor uttered these words, not once did he name them. These beings of pure filth were not worthy of dripping off his tongue. He only spoke of their deeds—their atrocities, even—not their names or faces, only the sins that they carried within them alike that of venom.
These teaching had permeated the souls of all those who heard this semon; even the very core of her being for almost 15 years since birth. It was ingrained deep, ingrained so deeply into her that it might as well have been engraved on her very bones, carved in the lines around her eyes and lips. The scripture she repeated every morning, day after day, year after year; the prayers she whispered each night.
It was during the miday prayer, with her forehead pressed against the ground, her coal-like hair casting shadows on her fac, that it happened. "O, Lord," She whispered, eyes pressed shut, "I plead once more for salvation, I have lived a life in your embrace."
But nothing came. There was no response, save for the sound of her own breathing, and the faint hum that emanated from the world outside. A sound that she could barely detect when it was loudest and then became faint again, and again, like the wind whistling through the pines outside of the open window.
She sighed, lifting her head slightly, enough to ease her forehead of the pressure. "I thank you, Lord, for your warmth and protection." She said, and she lifted her head up slowly, gasping at the scene before her.
A figure, dressed in dark robes, stood before her with an ornate staff in one hand and a large book in the other, staring at her blankly from the corner of its eye. "Self-proclaimed children of god never fail to amuse me," He hummed, voice dripping in mirth.
He had not given her a chance to react, reaching her still form in three long strides. His foot connected first with her left shoulder, hard enough to knock her to the floor, and his palm landed squarely upon her forehead with enough force that it felt as though his knuckles should have broken her skull.
His thumb was pressing on top of her right brow, where her brain ought to have been. The pressure had been excruciating. "The lord has abandoned you child," He whispered, pressing deeper, ignoring her spluttering cries.
"But there shall be no fear, the Fallen have taken interest in you," He continued, removing his hand and running his fingers across the tender skin in a way alike that of a father. A gloved hand caressed her cheek, rubbing small circles into her flesh. He frowned slightly, "You will find yourself cursing me out every day of you life, and for that: I am sorry."
He knelt down onto his knees, tilting his head slightly as the girl tumbled into his embrace, chest heaving with every breath. Her hands clawed at the fabric of his jacket, desperate for purchase. She felt herself slipping, falling.
"Your blood with be shed. You shall live in dedication to my existence, my precious child.—"
"But do not fear, for you are a child of the Lord." The man laughed slightly, a sound so melodious like the choir of the church.
"Now then," he started, placing a hand over her fluttering eyes, "Let us pray, my child."
——————
She awoke to a calloused hand pressing against her forehead, in the motion of checking for a fever. Opening her eyes to see a man staring down at; his green eyes narrowed slightly.
She sat up instantly, pulling away from his touch. She didn't look at him properly, just stared down at the floor as he continued to check her body for any signs of illness.
Finally, he straightened back up, his posture relaxed, "Well, you seem unwell today." He said
