Child of prophecy

23 | Emotions

IYAN

NINE YEARS AGO

I jump down from the tree, landing right in front of her. She cautiously inches back, and my eyes flicker down to her hands that are clenched into a fist, ready to attack anytime.

Most humans I meet always make the mistake of deeming me harmless. But she's alert. Her time here has probably taught her not to trust anyone.

"You're interesting," I declare with a sick smile. Her face morphs into a frown as she takes in my appearance. She towers over my twelve-year-old body, but size doesn't really matter.

"Look kid, I don't want to hurt you," she states, and I can't help the snicker that escapes my lips.

"My name is Iyan. Stop calling me that," I insist, and a look of shock passes over her face.

I don't wait for her to recover as I seize the opportunity and attack her. To my surprise, she swiftly avoids the swinging of my fists towards her face.

I'm worn out with all the fighting with Lucian, but I don't care. I just want to see how far this old human can last without breaking down.

"You're clearly not in your right mind, Iyan," she pants while trying to catch her breath.

There's a strange rush of adrenaline that pumps through my veins. The rush reminds me of times when I'd feel like I could do anything without caring about consequences. It was a temporal feeling of bliss I couldn't quite explain.

A feeling where I felt I could burn the world down.

She tries to run forward away to the vast illusion of a desert beyond us, but she's knocked back by an invisible wall.

I can feel her confusion as she repeatedly tries to push through. I patiently watch her with my hands curling round my dagger.

There's no escape out of here. I'm the only gateway.

When she realizes that her efforts are futile, she turns to face me with burning anger and determination in her violet orbs.

She's wearing that strange uniform those humans usually wear, I notice, but it's ripped at certain places not to mention the patches of dried blood and bruises at random spots on her bare skin.

"I guess I've been mistaking you as a victim for too long," she mutters with a sigh and fishes out a wooden staff from her back that she begins to spin and swirl around.

"I'm getting out of here to my daughter and grandchild. It doesn't matter what wickedness you all throw at me." She declares, and there's this glint in her eyes.

Resolve.

She's really set on leaving here. I find myself smiling at her foolishness.

No one gets past me. She's only alive because I'm enjoying this moment.

I blink when I notice her staff coming towards me. My mind doesn't process the speed at which she attacks me with. One moment she was standing across me and the next minute, her staff nearly sent me flying.

Nearly, because it stopped midair.

I furrow my brows in annoyance.