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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1249633-Chapter-Three--Story-One-Jade-Sagas
by Emanon
Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Gothic · #1249633
chapter three of story one in the Jade Sagas
I knew as I stared into his eyes that he had killed dozens of demons in his time and yet I felt no sense of threat. His stare was intense but no hatred lingered within. My confusion was met fully by a sense of intrigue. If he had cut down countless other creatures of sinister design such as my self without a single thought. Why did he not stare at me with hatred boiling within, brows furrowed a look of contempt draped about his face? He stared a moment longer then, his lips parted and he spoke but a single word--my name rose from his lips low and soft--uttered like a curse upon my existence. I nodded admittedly taken aback that he knew of me. Silence hung heavy in the air--not a word was spoken as he stared at me--his eyes completely focused on my person--as if scrutinizing every ashen inch of me. After the sense of awe and confusion wore away I instinctively grew more cautious more wary of his intentions. "What do you want?" I said expecting him to answer with a clumsy attempt to stake me with some wooden fallacy that wouldn't even make my knees buckle. Still he said nothing, only standing there, then he spoke all at once his voice still the same low and indifferent tone as before. He spoke to me as if speaking to any person you meet on the street corner and engage in idle chatter with and I must admit it baffled me. I could hear his heart beating steadily it neither raced nor did his pulse quicken. No worry plagued the inferior creature that stood before me, no sweat stained his flesh and no trembles shook his body. He was wholly at ease as if speaking with an acquaintance. The only sign of him being alert and ready if I should attempt an attack was his posture, the readiness of his body and position of his feet--he was positioned to easily dodge an attack with the greatest of agility. His shoulders were slightly tensed, he seemed fully aware of the damage I was capable of, yet for some reason even I cannot fathom. The rage that forever churned and blistered within me was quelled. My rage ceased and I had no desire to inflict pain upon him. Perhaps it was only my wanton curiosity of why he did not fear me? I do not know, but now looking back I wished I had not been so subdued by his nonchalance and had slain him where he stood. Preventing this injustice that has been performed upon me. If I had not been taken hold by intrigue and wonderment of him--had not been so foolish and had unleashed my rage upon him as I did countless others then I would of been spared the intruding essence that lies within me--latched to my being never to leave. Draining my strength and filling my void chest with disgusting feelings I should never have. Remorse and regret and the lives I cut short replayed in my head over and over, the memories of my bloody past that haunt me even at this very moment. A blur of faces, screams, pleads for mercy, broken, bloody, bodies strewn about, tattered remains--all my victims torn apart have been sewn back together in one horrible neverending repetiton of sordid imagery that tug at mind and my newly formed emotions. I feel their pain which I had never felt before, their screams echo through my mind--dripping with unrepenting sorrow and guilt. I feel guilt--a sense of hatred directed towards myself and my bloody actions of my past. Truly there is no more horrible a punishment then their faces forever replaying in my subconscious accompanied by a chorus of screams that shatter my will and force upon me alien emotions that a demon should never feel. And it is all his doing. He did not kill me--made no move to destroy me when we first met. He wanted to poison me and leave me undoubtly emerged in a flurry of suffering--plagued by something I cannot relieve myself of nor can I destroy. Forever to be reminded of my sins and forever to endure the guilt that builds within the thousands of images that flash within my head. He did not wish to destroy me in one foul swoop--he wanted to rot me from the inside and then inevitably he knew to escape such anguish and torture. I would destroy myself.
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