Malice Pt 2 - Azadou

Sickened by the thought of infecting my senses by suffering through more human interactions, I transport myself back to my home – if one could call it that. I’ve never had a home, but I find the concept strange yet comforting. A dwelling of my own creation that separates me from all the earthly things I despise, while providing me with a sanctuary to do as I will, even rest should I find need of it.

I chose to take up residence in a place called Hoia-Baciu, a forest in a land called Romania. Gullible and paranoid humans seem to believe this dark forest is haunted, and I suppose now it is. When I erected this home for myself I realised this was the first thing I had ever created of my own volition. Yes, I created the eyti but there’s not a single eyti in existence that I ever made intentionally. This place, however, was. I saw it in my mind then made it happen and have come to treasure this place in the short time I’ve resided here. I even feel quite protective of it, another emotion I am unfamiliar with.

As I make my way up the darkened, grand staircase I halt in my tracks when the air shifts, and I’m suddenly made aware of a light, airy feeling bringing with it an uncomfortable warmth. A snarl rumbles in my throat as I form a ball of purple electricity in my palm. I turn with blinding speed, hurling it in the direction of my intruder, but they disappear, causing the ball to blast through the front door shattering it to smithereens. I fume furiously as the bitch who just caused me to damage my own home reappears, glancing over at the gaping hole in my front entryway.

“Dude is there something about ‘Goddess of Prophecy’ that you just don’t get?” she huffs, folding her arms over her chest, her liquid silver eyes daring to look upon me with frustration as her cascading green hair stands out against the dark interior of my home.

“Was worth a shot,” I saw with a macabre smile. “Now get out,” I order.

“Azadou I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to help you,” she says with a sweet voice that makes me sick to my stomach.

“Then you can help by leaving,” I snarl.

“Why haven’t you tried to see Orenda?” she asks, not remotely deterred.

My molars clench at the sound of that name, a name I have tried day and night to erase from my mind along with the face it is attached to.

“If you just gave her a chance, you might find your entire life could be different. Don’t you want to be happy?” she asks sympathetically.

“Happy?” I scoff. “Is that how you see this…manipulative tactic?”

“Manipulative? Is that what you think this is?” she quizzes with surprise.

“Yet another God casting their magic upon me against my will. How can I see it as anything but?” I retort.

“Zarseti would never do anything to hurt you. She went through hell in the hopes of helping you and everyone else. We’re not the enemy, Azadou, please believe that,” she pleads.

I chuckle darkly, “A few months as a Goddess and how quickly you have considered yourself one of them, but I wonder if they see it the same way.” I walk over and begin circling her, pushing past the discomfort of the almost blinding light that radiates off her. “You’re not truly one of them. You were human once, and in your mind, you will always be a human. You weren’t created the way they were. You haven’t lived as long as they have. Trust me, they aren’t as welcoming to Gods that aren’t just like them.”

“If you’re trying to scare me or put doubt in my mind, it’s not going to work. I survived far too many deadbeat ex-boyfriends who tried the same crap and if it didn’t work on me then, then I’m pretty sure you’re screwed,” she says with a smug smile.

“I’m just stating the facts, do with them what you will.

She sighs, “You were wronged and mistreated because of fear and misunderstanding, but they would all happily welcome you and give you the chance if you let them. I’m standing right here opening the door for you, and so is Zarseti by giving you this incredible gift,” she says gently.

“Hear me now Goddess of Light. For as long as I draw breath, I will never trust the words or actions of the Gods, not even newly formed Gods such as yourself. So, you can tell your precious Zarseti that I spit on her gift of an animai, and you can tell the others that the next God to darken my door will find their entrails used to decorate my front steps,” I say with a malevolent smile.

She straightens up, taking a slow breath while observing me carefully, “Even if that God were Jartre?”

I snort in amusement, “Especially him.”

“You remember that if you kill him, you die too, right?”

I lean forward until my lips are a breath away from her ear, “I’m counting on it,” I whisper.

Before she can utter a response, I wave my hand sending her back to wherever the hell she came from, my mood now greatly soured and my home…my sanctum sanctorum, now sullied by her unwelcome presence. With another wave of my hand, I restore the front door of my home and make my way upstairs.

With each step I take, I reflect on her words. She truly believes I’ve been granted a gift. Where is this supposed gift? Ripped into existence and forced to smell the rotting stench of malice blanketing the Earth, only to then be locked in a prison. Now I’m free, but the world I have returned to is a million times more repugnant than it ever was, and for this, I should be grateful Or is it this animai the meddling little goodie-two-shoes speaks of that should have me singing the praises of the Gods? Am I to thank yet another God for inflicting their magic upon me? One more torturesome than anything Fretez did. At least Fretez left me in a frozen state of blissful ignorance, but not Zarseti, no. Her magic plagues my mind with images of two bright, rainbow-coloured eyes that looked upon me as though they could see right into the depths of my blackened essram. Every night I see those eyes, and every night I curse their very existence and the Goddess who bound them to me.