Miserable Creature

Chapter 3

My hands were stained with the traitor's blood, warm and sticky, staining my emaciated body before reaching the luxurious floor of the palace.

A strange feeling came over me, a terrifying mixture of unbridled ecstasy and rising panic, taking hold of me after I plunged the knife into the traitor's neck. I felt a strange ecstasy I had never felt before, mixed with a cold sense of revenge that extinguished the fire of my anger.

I fled the cursed house like a devil escaping from hell, not looking back, rushing madly through the narrow, winding alleys. I continued to run mindlessly through the dark, narrow alleys for a full half hour, my legs propelling me forward with a hysterical force I didn't know I possessed, while my mind struggled to comprehend what I had just done.

Perhaps it was the shock of killing someone for the first time in my life, or perhaps it was the strange rush that coursed through my veins.

Perhaps it was the horror of the act, or perhaps it was because luck, as usual, had left me once again to face my fate alone. I continued to wander around the area like a blind man, a vicious circle of despair leading me back to the same starting point!

You know what happened next. The police caught me easily. I didn't resist, exhausted from running, and perhaps from life itself.

I spent nine years in a gloomy cell in a juvenile detention center, nine more years of torment and loneliness, and an endless series of unfortunate events that ultimately led me to stand before this prosecutor. Until I stood before this strange creature who calls himself the "assistant of salvation"... What a ridiculous title!

The man who claimed to be my assistant of salvation looked at me with bright eyes that pierced the darkness around me, strange glances that carried a sparkle I did not understand, as if trying to understand my dark soul. He asked me in a hoarse voice with a tone of superiority as if he were talking to an insect:

"Are you sure you really want to die? Don't you aspire to eternal life and to stand at the top of the world with boundless magical power, you miserable creature?"

I looked at him with burning anger and shouted with all my might, my voice trembling with the rage and despair deep within me:

"This is none of your business, you conceited fart of light! Just let me die in peace, that's all I ask!"

He contemplated me for a moment, his searching eyes wandering around my pale face as if reading hidden lines in my torn book of life, or looking for an answer to a question he had not yet asked.

The pretender said he was the assistant of salvation as if an idea had settled in his mind, and a sign of hidden satisfaction spread across his lips:

"Interesting... Very interesting. Now I understand why Taracus is interested in you, little insect! Well, human, farewell... Until we meet again."

My limbs froze, and I felt a chill run through my bones as if death was touching me with its cold breath. I looked at the assistant of salvation standing in front of me like a silent statue, my shock preventing me from comprehending his cryptic words.

For a moment, a terrible silence hung over the place before I screamed in madness, every ounce of anger and despair evident in my words: "You despicable son of a bitch! I never want to see you again, let me die..."

But before I could finish my sentence, the assistant moved his hand with a quick, mysterious gesture, like a magician waving his wand in the air. He touched me deep inside.

Suddenly, my voice disappeared, as if something had strangled my throat. I felt my consciousness scatter and gradually fade away, like smoke rising in the wind, leaving behind a dark black void that swallowed everything.

That was the end, or so I thought...

******

Elsewhere, far away from my world that was fading away at that moment, in a time I could never have imagined.

Meanwhile, in a spacious bedroom inside a vast palace filled with the scent of jasmine and musk, a woman's cries mixed with hope and exhaustion rang out, intermittent sounds reflecting the agony of long labor, punctuated by anxious whispers from the maids around her, their faces pale with anticipation.

"Ah! He's coming..." Her words sounded like the end of a long-suffering and the beginning of a new life, a hope that had not been dampened by the wait.

Outside the room, Nabil, his features anxious, paced back and forth on a bright carpet embroidered with gold and silver threads, his heart beating wildly between hope and fear.

He clenched his fingers so tightly that they turned pale, expressing his pent-up tension and growing anticipation for the decisive moment. Anxiety appeared on his forehead, while his eyes were fixed on the tightly closed door.

"Do not worry, my lord! He has been blessed by heaven, so he will surely be born safely..." said a venerable priest dressed in a white robe as bright as the moonlight, holding a decorated wooden staff in his hands, spreading reassurance that calmed the troubled soul with his words imbued with the weight of faith.

"Wah!"

At that moment, a loud cry like a lion's roar came from the bedroom, its sound piercing the thick walls of the palace and freezing the nobleman in his tracks like an ancient tree with roots deep in the ground.

Time stood still for a moment before the nobleman rushed eagerly toward the door.

A few moments later, several maids and nurses came out with faces overflowing with joy and congratulations, wiping the sweat from their foreheads and relaying the happy news of the birth.

"He's born! He's born, my lord!" one of them shouted, her voice filled with joy, and another followed enthusiastically: "It's a boy, healthy and strong! He's blessed!"