"Dear child, would you like to be one of us? Or would you rather stay as the insignificant being you are now?" That was what I was asked of the first time I came to this wretched realm.
"She's small."
"Of course, she is, she's seven."
I sat on the ground, trembling. I could still vividly remember the fear I had, blood running cold. There were three dark figures in total. One especially stood out from the others— not by looks, but by the intimidating aura I felt from him.
"Ha—look at her, humans are so fragile." One of them scoffed.
That intimidating man then knelt down to me, revealing his features, definitely not a human— humans don't have horns and red eyes, after all. His cold menacing eyes stared at me like I was a worthless existence. He slit open his wrist with his sharp nails. The blood was not red. "That's enough. Drink." He said and shoved the wounded wrist to my lips, also holding my head in place with his other hand, letting the blood flow through the gaps. I drank it. The blood tasted horrible at first but gradually grew sweeter by the seconds. I drank like I was so thirsty.
"You're drinking too much for yourself." He said, but never pulled away his wrist. That was until I couldn't sip anymore blood as I felt burning. My flesh felt hot, I couldn't move a muscle. I fell, laid down to my side on the cold floor. He held my head and a small smile crept on his face. Like he was pleased.
"She'll just die if we leave her like this right?"
"How annoying. Should I get Ortiz here?"
"No, let her be," was the last thing I remember hearing before my consciousness faded away. And the next time I opened my eyes again was three weeks later.
YOU ARE READING
The Goddess Of Salvation
Fantasy"Then tell me, for who am I?" I said looking him straight in the eye for which I hope to show him no distressed in me. But perhaps that was what gave me away or was it my voice? "Pathetic. I thought Zokiel shaped you to be stronger than this. " He...
