The Fallen Angel And The Demon In Green

Chapter 1: The Forsaken

Obviously she wanted to keep pretending she was not on the verge of passing out.

I went to her side to help her sit, as I saw her struggling with the task. She seemed quite out of it, despite engaging in conversation as usual. The bags under her yellowish eyes, even though she had been asleep for the past 48 hours, were dark and present, and, as I approached, I could see that the plumage shaping her body lacked its usual shine. The royal blue of her physique, usually decorated with whitish freckles, had turned into a pale reminiscence of what it was.

"Are you sure you are okay? You look like shit."

"How nice of you." said Saphir between her teeth, as she got out of bed, using my hand for support. "I'm fine, darling. I just caught a virus, that's all."

"You can't help anyone if you are sick, birdy."

She dismissed my words with a waving hand and went to her desk. "Everything here is a mess! Have you been moving my stuff again?"

And with that, she began frantically reorganising her medical equipment on the table. She's the only one handling the jars and vials on the desk. I would rather die than play with her things: the memory of a concoction that got out of control and nearly poisoned half the ward assaults every time I walk past the damn desk. Still, her things never seem to be where she leaves them the day before, or so she says. I'd like to confirm her claim, but, to me, her things always seem to be organised according to chaos. Despite the hundreds of times we had the same conversation, she is convinced that I play with the stuff when she sleeps.

A chuckle escaped my lips as I rolled my eyes and left her at it; I could swear she's delusional sometimes.

The boss' right hand, a thug we like to call Weird Eyes, assigned Saphir as the on-site doctor due to her years as a royal army nurse in her home country. Her title grants some benefits, such as not living in one of the common cages, cramped with other slaves. Our prison cell is spacious and furnished with a desk, a pile of books on medicine, and two iron beds. In addition, she was given permission to have all those strange vials and herbs with her. It has been like this since I was given the bed next to hers, and I never really asked how she has so much freedom in here, but I don't want to push her either. We all have done horrible things in this place. Or maybe she has just been rewarded for her job and good behaviour. Her day-to-day duties are mainly to care for those who fall ill, both slaves and guards on the premises, and she has always lived up to their expectations.

I, on the other hand, spend my days as the personal secretary of the boss of the place, Mr Djaevel. I still have no idea why a slave was entrusted with such a responsibility, but my job is to relay the boss's wishes to his lackeys. The job allows me to roam almost every floor of the tower, supervised by a guard, of course. I have learned all the corridors, nooks and crannies of the place, hoping that the information will be valuable if I ever manage to escape. Of course, I have thought a thousand times about how I could take advantage of my position, but something tells me that Saphir might suffer the consequences if I take action. It is no coincidence that I have been put in the cell with her. And I have seen it fist-hand: Djaevel likes mind games, especially when it comes to playing with the suffering of others. He probably wants me to try something of the sort.

As I was lost in thought, footsteps approached down the corridor, I noticed, not because I heard them, but because Saphir's keen hearing made her quickly turn her head towards the sea stone bars, giving me the alert.

"Good morning, Mr." Saphir greeted.

"Lazy little bitch, you gotta report to work," Weird Eyes yelled at my direction.

"It wouldn't kill you to be nicer, you know," Saphir spat, taking offense. She is always well-mannered, no matter with whom she is talking. I kind of admire her for that, though I could never be respectful to such an idiot. Ironically, that's probably one of the reasons why I'm here, I noted, internally rolling my eyes to myself.