Chapter 19: Caesura

The melancholy of strings bled eeriness in the air as Caesura gently screeched her violin in a lullaby note, trying to hum with the whistling and blasting sounds of fireworks. She may have no tears to fall down her cheeks but this was the way she cried, as the memory of a young boy flashed over her head, named Amarok.

Why are they doing this to me? Amarok always asked himself at the age of seven, with a naked body full of bruises chained in the dark room.

I'm scared. I don't want to get hurt again.

The wooden door creaked open, revealing a bald man in a black robe wearing a cross necklace, hiding something in his back.

Amarok pushed himself on the corner of the walls as if he could be safe the more he pressed his body against the dead end.

"Please don't hurt me anymore!" he cried. "I'm going to be a good boy!"

The man slowly shook his head in disappointment. "No matter how you tried to be a good one, your blood remains evil and you should be punished by Jembahal." He then revealed a stingray's tail.

"Please! I didn't do anything! Why am I being punished?"

Then the man slowly walked as he answered his question. "Your existence is your sin. That dog ears of yours is the sign of your wicked blood. Blame your parents."

The skin of a seven-year-old boy was almost peeled off by the whips. The guards were almost deaf hearing his loudest screams that the pain had no comparison with. His wounds hadn't healed yet from yesterday's punishment, yet each of them was being ripped off again, blood streaming throughout his body, drowning the red tint. His head was no exemption. Some parts of his scalp can't grow hair anymore.

After an hour of suffering, his swollen body turned purple and his throat was also too painful even just to breathe. When the man left, the guard came to pour leftover food on the floor. "Eat some, dog."

Just as he was told, he jumped on the spoiled food and aggressively ate by his mouth like a dog.

At least it was done. He tried to be optimistic. Someone will save me tomorrow, like a hero in the book that Sister used to read me.

Weeks had passed, his brutal routine repeated and no one came to save him. If only he had no blood of a beast to heal physically, he would have died a long time ago. But those didn't involve healing the pain in his chest constantly asking why he was born evil. He kept repenting his sins to Jembahal and begged to turn him into a good person so a hero would come to save him. But it never happened.

A year had passed when his repentance turned into rage, realizing he wasn't the one who should be punished, but those people in the orphans. He broke free from the chains, assaulted every human being he knew, hilled a half of the population of the orphanage and exiled himself out to live in the streets.

Street dogs naturally followed him, and they're the only ones who made him feel warm–a family.

One day, he lost one of his family one by one. The only one who treated him as a family had to leave him alone. He thought it was a sad farewell, little did he know, it was a tragic one. Until he discovered a group of men butchering dogs, making fun of the body parts before cooking them for their snacks in their drink.

Rage devoured his emotion, and then he oathed–whoever dared to hurt or even raise a tone against his family would have their stomach ripped apart by his sharp teeth and strong jaw, and eyes gouged by his claws. Not only those men, but even youths, kids, who tried to bully a dog. And then the place had become a ghost town.

Many Civil Guards attempted to arrest him but ended up a stench of rotten corpse fiested by the flies, losing eyes and intestines, and other body parts were missing–eaten–just what he did tonight with the eleven-year-old girl who tried to harm Caesura scouting on the rooftop.

The white wolf picked the flute through its fangs, soaking it with saliva, and fetched it to Caesura while wagging its tail. He then changed his appearance into a young boy with a naked body, and scars hiding his white skin. Caesura accepted his offer,

"I did a good job, did I?" Amarok asked, smiling and seeking recognition.

Caesura smiled and patted his white hair as white as snow. She nodded.

His smile ripped in his ears. He couldn't control the lingering feeling in his chest that was about to explode in happiness every time Caesura approved his deeds. Amarok then jumped in excitement to express his feelings, even though his open empty stomach looked fragile to move.

"Yeheey! I'm a good boy! I'm not evil anymore! I saved Caesura! I saved good people!"

Caesura Mortuguese
The Pawn of Deaths
MVCabusas | The Invisible King