HYBRID

CHAPTER 14- Memories

The vast tundra stretched into the distance.

Sunlight reflected off the frozen crystals coating the ground, giving them an other worldly glow.

It should have been beautiful, this frozen gift of nature.

To Sergail, it was disgusting.

The entire environment was as cold as the temperature.
The entire snow coated area was depressing - a cold empty landscape devoid of any life, memories or events.

It simply stretched into nothing. A barren place impossible of holding anything but emptiness.
It was a mirror image of him though.

He looked down at his half- gloved hands.

Sergail had nothing.
He could feel nothing.
And he almost knew nothing.

Growing up and knowing almost nothing about his past, other than loneliness and segregation.

Sergail was the name he chose for himself. His birth was Davol.
He was a devil.
An abomination. A hybrid.

He shouldn't have been born.

His guardian ignored or scorned him, if he had to acknowledge his presence.
Sergail wanted to run away. What was the point of living in a place where he didn't exist, where he had to fend for himself anyways?

The Fates taught him a cold lesson that day by making his life even more cruel.

His guardian was killed by rouges. They took over his lodging and he ran.

If they caught him, they'd have slaughtered him as well.

He was nineteen now and that was seven years ago. He survived.

Ever since, he'd been on his own. At least with his guardian, he'd had shelter.

Why did the Moon Goddess hate him?

Stop being so pessimistic , his wolf tried to console him You're alive aren't you?

I'm grateful for living and breathing, that feeling of freedom, Sergail replied.
I just wish my existence, it wasn't so miserable.

Growls resounded behind him, as werewolves exited from the trees behind him.

Werewolves exited circling him.

Sergail jumped down unto the frozen tundra.

At least, it would no longer be boring and plain but stained with the crimson of blood. He wasn't going to loose.

The white canvas turned into an abstract art of twisted red splashes and chunks.

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Kyle pulled Jake up gently into a sitting position.

Jake was sweating and his breathing was heavy.

The older male sighed, whipping out the vial given to him by the Seer.

Ever since then, Jake had been unconscious the entire day.

The boy moaned and shifted in his sleep.

Kyle placed the vial to his lips and tilted his head back, draining the liquid down his throat.

He changed his brother's sweaty clothes and with a glance back, left, leaving him to rest.

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