Rays of sun pierced the thin layer of cloth in front of the window, waking Kronos from his deep slumber. He stretched out and rubbed his eyes to get rid of his sleepiness. White locks of hair obscured his vision but vanished as he shook his hair. It was just another morning, the child thought. He got up and spotted the drawing he made yesterday, memories slowly flowing back into his mind.
“Oliver!”, he dressed up faster than ever before and sprinted downstairs, almost tripping over his own feet. The table only had bread on it, meaning the others had already eaten. The boy barged into the kitchen where a nun was adding new wares to the inventory. “Is there any news about Oliver?” The nun, who was one of the few who showed him genuine kindness looked at him with guilt.
“If Oliver is what you call that bird than yes. I’m sorry Kronos, he was labeled as an evil spirit. Mother Gena found a source of divinity inside of the beasts body which wasn’t from the goddess Amanaro. She handed the bird to the other kids as she didn’t want to stain her hands. His soul has probably left this world. I’m sorry.”
“What?”, it was barely a whisper, build upon pure disbelieve. “No, no, no,” his voice was silent but kept on getting louder, “this can’t be true! You’re lying! I will not believe it until I see it with my own eyes.” The child ran off, deep down he knew the nun wouldn’t lie to him, not her.
At the oak tree which Kronos adored his sister was sitting at the bottom, leaning against the ancient plant. “Where is he! Where is Oliver, Rina?!” The girl looked at him in surprise, not having noticed him as he arrived. Her eyes had an extra layer than usual, as if they were watering. “Brutus… ended him, they dumped the corpse on the mountains. We went too far, sorry Kronos.” The words pierced his heart, not like an arrow shot by cupid but pierced by a dagger of sorrow.
He looked at down at his younger sister with the same disgust she had always given him after meeting the other kids. “You sicken me sister, your existence is making me want to poke my eyes out so that I wouldn’t have to stare at your pathetic figure”, after speaking he ran off towards the mountains. Rina tried to stop him but nothing would work, not now. “You can’t there’s a heavy blizz-!” the rest faded into the void as Kronos was already too far away to hear her.
He sprinted up the cliffs and pathways, something he had done hundreds if not thousands of times before throughout the years. He chased the footsteps Brutus had left behind which kept on getting harder because a new layer of snow had begun to cover up his traces. As he began to reach the end of the trail he found himself in a strong blizzard, millions of snowflakes cutting away at his heat. At last he saw red amongst the endless white, the end of the search, the start of mourning.
Stains of hot red liquid melted the thick layer of snow away while hundreds of white flakes dwindled in the heavy wind. It had begun with one droplet, rapidly increasing as if it called upon its kin, resulting in a flow of blood, tainting both soul and body. His hot hands had made the animal unfreeze and allowed it to bleed out at last. A snicker of sorrow was accompanied by tears. His hands were shaking as he held the beautiful bird’s corpse.
Death was a part of life’s cycle, and although he was young he knew that better than most people. It wasn’t pure death that brought him this pain, but the feeling that everything was his fault, that he was to blame. “Wh-why?”, it was a soft whisper, not audible to any other living organism inside of the blizzard.
The lifeless animal had the word “Monster” carved in it. A term used to taunt and haunt the boy who was kneeling in agony. His head bowed down as he put the bird down, tears showering upon the frozen corpse. Thoughts raced through every curve of his mind. All of them brought different emotions with them; sorrow, fear, hurt, pain, regret, determination, anger. How could they take away his only companion because they didn’t like him? Just because he was a bit different. This was all a plot of Brutus and mother Gena, he was sure of it.
The boy removed his worn-out shirt and wrapped the animal’s body inside of it. “You are more worthy of the heat than I am”, he whispered as he got up from his knees. “I’m sorry Oliver, as I saved you, brought false hope upon both of us, and then ended you.” There he stood, in the middle of a blizzard, a boy with white hair and snake-like blue eyes. He was shivering yes, but not from the extreme temperatures. Those emotions, conflicting one another like fire and ice were the true cause.
A grave had to be created, as a form of respect and comradeship. Death could either feel like a destruction of ones world, or a revelation that opens up hundreds of locked doors. The boy gathered all the stones he could find, ranging from pebbles to a black plate of obsidian. How peculiar that a boy felt more connected to a bird than he did to his brothers and sisters. He would never even think of giving those a funeral or the slightest form of respect, as they would do the same for him.
The stones covered his dear companion with the piece of obsidian at the base. Half an hour had already passed by since he had begun constructing the memoir. It was finally time to finish it. With a sharp stone in his blood-covered hand palms he began carving in the obsidian. “Here rests Oliver, may he spread his white wings amongst the angels and protect their souls as he did for mine. May his blood red eyes discover what is good and bad as we mortals are incapable of it.”
The young boy wore no shoes, his feet and hands covered in calluses from all of the labor he had done. He knelt down one last time and said his final goodbye before leaving. Small steps on the frozen mountain marked that he made his way back towards the town, the invisible path calling his name to guide him down. The distant lights of fire and happy houses left him in sadness again.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
It didn’t take long before that feeling of loss was transformed into vast hatred and anger. Memory of something he had written down last year while looking at his now fallen companion came into mind; “If you snap a wing, be prepared to be pierced by the beak that resents you. For it is only fair to be open to harm when committing it.”
He reached that same entrance, with the same demons inside, who would all speak the same words. Enough was enough, everything that begins has to end, just like how those demons haunted him. If they were open to kill his kin, they should be ready to kill. The door of the orphanage creaked open, yet no sound came from inside. Unbalanced steps towards the kitchen marked the boy’s presence. When he arrived no one was present, as he had wanted it to be.
A shelf was pulled open by his slender pale hands, all kinds of tableware inside. There it was, that gleaming iron knife which was sharpened every day to cut parts of cooked animals. His fingers twisted around the cold hilt, determination burning in his frozen eyes. There he went, walking towards mother Gena’s room. He knew exactly how late it was, she was praying, just like all the other nuns. The second floor, fourth room on the left.
His hands were still red with his friend’s blood and his feet were still naked, walking on the stone cold floor. A gentle knock. Something that wasn’t allowed in the hour of prayers. Another knock. If this was any other day mother Gena would have punished the one doing it that very evening. A final knock. Still no word from the delicate nun who didn’t stop praying.
At last the door swung open, there were no locks in this orphanage. There she was, kneeling down on a little carpet with runes written on it. Not even a glance was gifted to the white-haired boy. “I gave you a chance mother Gena. A chance to repent for the sins you had committed the last few years by making the other kids hate me. I know you are the cause of that hatred, telling them tales of demons which I resemble, and how they should die. I really thought about forgiving you, if only you had left Oliver out of this. How do the people in the north like us say it? An eye for a pair of ‘em, a tooth for a hand of teeth?”
Only when she heard his voice did she look around, knowing why this very child came here. Quite a horrifying vision it must have been. That very child she had claimed to be a demon, standing in front of her with a knife and blood-covered hands. Her voice was shaky with great shock and slight fear in her tone. “Dear… Kronos… We can talk about this you know?”Every word that left her lips only fueled Kronos’ determination, removing even the microscopic pieces of guilt he had.
“Mother Gena, you took everything away from me. My hope, my friend, he was a part of me. There is no talking to be done between us.” Her eyes radiated panic, she could only try to justify her actions. “That bird was evil, it had evil energy! I-I’ll get you a new one, way more beautiful and kind! Just put the knife down dear, we should never harm family.”
His eyes were big, his glance emotionless, the words had made things worse, there was no replacing to be done. “I’ll tell the other children the same words mother. They’ll get a new mother. You should’ve just put the knife down, after all, we should never harm family. I bet they’ll resent me, won’t they? I guess it is only fair to share, right mother? Just like you told us how your goddess teaches to share. I’ll share my feelings with the other kids, the feeling of grief. I’ll also share the damage you brought to Oliver with you, isn’t that how it is supposed to be mother?” he almost spitted out the last word. Disgust and hatred making his body move.
The child stepped forward, looking down on the nun who was kneeling. He grabbed her hair and twisted her head, making her neck open. “I want to thank you for taking care of sister unlike what you did for me, yet I already hated you as you put her up against me. You went too far, action causes reaction. May you rot in hell Gena.” With that, a scream of fear was audible in the entire building, yet the nuns couldn’t stop praying, not yet. The knife pierced both her windpipe and vital blood vessels.
Kronos retrieved the knife and removed her cloth to unveil her back. He then began carving a text in the dead nun’s skin, just like how Brutus had done into the corpse of Oliver. Blood spurted out of her neck and back, yet the text remained clearly readable. The child got up and moved on to his next target, Brutus.
Third floor, first room on the right, the room where the 3 male children slept. This time the boy didn’t bother to knock, he just barged inside. All of them were still acting like such kids, that scream Kronos’ previous target had made had scared them so much they were hiding bind a closet. “Aron, John, get out, unless you want to be killed like mother Gena. I have business with Brutus.”
Two heads popped up from behind the closet, pure fear present on their face. As fast as light they sprinted behind Kronos and left the room. The boy closed the door and sat down on a bed that used to be his. “There are three ways we can do this Brutus. You can stay hiding and I’ll kill you when I even spot a single strand of your fucking hair. You can also come out and put up a fight, resulting in torture before death. Or, you come out right now and I let you walk off with some wounds.”
A few seconds of silence passed by before Brutus’ head appeared as well. There were tears in his eyes as he walked towards his hunter. “Sit down”, the boy with white hair said. Brutus did as he said, shaking in fear as he looked at Kronos’ bloody hands and that stained knife. “Some might say you just did what mother Gena told you to, but we both know that’s a lie. That word was carved in Oliver by you, and I bet you enjoyed every second of it. So tell me, will it be your hand or eye?”
Brutus looked at him with tears rolling down his cheeks. “M-my eye.” Kronos nodded. “I see you still want to become a warrior, but how can I let someone without any morals become a knight? That wouldn’t be right… Oh, I know,” a twisted smile spread his lips, “I’ll just have to take your hand anyway.” Brutus tried to protest but his fear silenced him. A cold hand grabbed Brutus’ forearm as he closed his eyes, almost peeing his pants. When the sharp metal began cutting he screamed with everything inside of him.
A minute later Kronos got up while Brutus was lying on the ground passed out from the pain. The child was panting, but there wasn’t any regret, just a sense of peace. So this is what revenge is, it feels great. The boy walked back to his own room and laid down on his bed. A few more minutes until all of the nuns would stop praying, he was curious to see their reactions.
It didn’t take long before mother Gena’s corpse was found. The words carved in her flesh leaving rumors throughout the entire village, and later the entire province. “If your god is real, she’ll have to beg me for forgiveness.”