|| ACT 2 || 𝐕𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲 (𝐧.) 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲
MICHAEL POV
"You've abandoned me..." My breath was ragged. My vision blurred. And my mind serves only as a constant reminder of my inability to fulfill my role as the son of Satan. My knees rubbed the dead grass I was sitting on. My gaze fixed on the same old tree for the last few minutes...hours...days, perhaps. With no response from my creator.
"And left me to die...why am I surprised." My hands clawed the ground beneath me. With every breath, I took my mind fogged even further. I continued to disregard my body's signals that it needed to be nourished. I loathed the mortal habits I still had to follow in order to strengthen myself.
"How peculiar. I've never seen one of your kind so up close before," The first voice I've heard within days of being here made me react quickly. I looked up, searching around me for any signs of life.
"Who the fuck is there?" The sound of a tree beside me rustled. The figure made itself known. A man who wasn't a man. Two large ram horns adorned his head, the same dark rustic hue as his hair. He wore nothing but a simple shall and an impish smile as he finally caught my eyes.
He came closer. And I staggered back.
"Calm down Beastie, your venomous tongue won't do you any good." He moved away from the shadows and stood before me.
"How?..." I couldn't comprehend the absurdity of what my mind had conjured. To fall sick to the despicable extremes of hallucinations. Still, even though I pressed my eyes shut together to regain back my consciousness, he still stood there, scowling at me.
"You really are a sight for sore eyes, even when you do look like horse shit." He laughed as he walked around me.
"This can't be real. You can't be real. It's a trick." His movements stopped, standing in front of me once more.
"No food, no water, for what...four days? I don't blame you for believing you're hallucinating, but believe me Beastie, I'm as real as they come." My face hardened at his words. It had been days that had passed since I first arrived in this deserted space of land. Days spent humiliatingly begging for some instruction.
"Who are you? Who sent you here?"
"The name is Sandros, Messenger of the dark lord himself, Lucifer. Whom you may know as-"
"My father..." My potent blood flew through me rapidly as realization hit me.
"Yes, that's right. But before I can continue, I need to see that mark of yours Beastie," He cocked his head to the side as he waited. A deep annoyance stirred within me at his demand. I complied as I kept my eyes trained on him, lifting my hair at my neck to reveal myself.
"Glorious." I grew tired as his eyes examined my neck. I moved swiftly as I caught a grip on his neck with my hand, squeezing hard.
"Now tell me what you want, messenger." I spat as his hands clawed at mine to break free from my grasp.
"I need to be able to breathe to do so-" I enjoyed his state of delirium before I pushed him away from me. He coughed violently as he struggled to regain his breath.
"I believe the reason you've been standing out in this pentagram shouting at the sky for days is that you've been trying to contact him, am I wrong?" He looked at me with his eyes raised while I swam in my humiliation.
"No. You aren't." He grinned as he pulled a pocketknife out of the air. He grimaced as the blade cut his palm. A liquid darker than blood poured out of the wound, I looked up at him in question as the blood dripped to the ground.
The floor beneath us began to shake. A deep rumbling sound echoed across the land. A crack made itself present in the ground which grew and opened a massive black hole. His hand nudged my arm as his head pointed down.
"Then your prayers have been answered. Let us go."
