The Persecuted

Chapter 2

There were three things Adan was good at.

Surviving was one of them.

His life had been nothing but survival. He had barely escaped his mothers womb before his father carried him off to the woods for the wolves to eat. The local priest had demanded it and his father being the devout man he was did as told. He'd carried him off to the woods and left him on a small clearing.

He had not even looked back when he'd walked away.

Adan had survived it. None in the village had thought crazy Adele would be wandering around there. She'd heard his cries and taken him in as her own son.

It was the memories of her rambling that finally made Adan snap awake.

His head throbbed. That was the first thing he realized. The second was all the other spots of pain around his body. There'd be bruises for certain, maybe some broken bones.

I'm alive.

Pain always had a way of confirming that to you. There'd be no pain once you died. The Church might have you believing otherwise, but Adan didn't give much value to what the priests taught. They were wrong about him so it stood to reason they would be wrong about other things as well.

Opening his eyes he realized he wasn't where he expected to be. Washed up on the shores of the river was where he expected to be, but instead he found himself in a dimly lit room where the fireplace provided both warmth and light. He laid in bed, under layers of blankets and with a soft pillow under his head. A table sat not far from the fireplace and a window next to it let in some light from behind the shutters. His clothes hung on a string tied to a support pillar and a hook in the wall, by the fire. A door was not far from the window.

Adan tried to sit up, but the effort sent a jolt of pain through his body that made him yelp. He lurched down into the bed, breathing heavily, grimacing with eyes closed.

He heard the door open. Footsteps went to where the fireplace was. Chunks of wood clattered as they were piled into their storage place.

What to do? If they wanted me dead I'd be dead. No reason to think they're out to harm me.

Adan started to open his eyes.

Everyone is always out to hurt me.

That single though made him close his eyes again.

“You awake boy?” The voice was that of an old man. Footsteps came closer. Adan felt the blanket lifted. Fingers grabbed the skin of his arm and twisted.

He had no choice.

With a yelp his eyes opened and stared up at the dark bearded man. He was younger than his voice would have had you thinking. His black hair hung on both sides of his face, desperately begging for a good wash. The beard covered much of his face, but you could tell his nose had been broken at some point and he hadn't had anyone to set it properly. Brown eyes stared down at him.

“So, you're a World Destroyer?”

Adan didn't reply. There was no use denying it. He'd seen his eyes.

The man smiled briefly. “Nothing to say to the man who saved your life?”

That's right. He saved me despite knowing who I am. If he wanted me dead he'd have let the river do its job.

“Thanks.” It was said in a low tone while looking down. He'd grown accustomed to not looking at people directly. It was a condition pounded in by survival instincts.

The man grunted and walked away. “My name is Gan. This is my cabin. You're welcome to stay here until you get yourself healed up.”

Adan looked up. Gan was by the fireplace, ladling soup from a black iron pot that hung over it. “Why?”