Knock knock knock.

Minagh heard the three firm knocks through the downpour assaulting his roof. He rolled onto his stomach, looking at the door with puffy red eyes.

“Hello?” he called.

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice called back. “I hate to be a bother but could you please open the door? I am not fond of rain or cold.”

Minagh slowly pushed himself to his feet, barely noticing the tiny shards of glass in his hands. He walked over to the door and grabbed the handle.

“Do you have a name, sir?” he said through the door.

“I do indeed,” the stranger said politely. “My name is Markotet. I hate to rush you, sir, but my time is limited.”

Minagh furrowed his brow. Who was this man, knocking on doors late at night in the middle of severe storms? Who was this man that had limited time when the entire county was likely asleep?

He needed to know. His hand twisted the handle and he pulled the door open.

Before Minagh was not a human. It was a short creature standing on knobbly knees, further propped up by a gnarled wooden cane. It’s skin was a mustard yellow adorned with fiery orange, glowing runes. It was the horns however that made Minagh’s skin crawl.

“Are you here for my wife’s soul?” Minagh asked quietly. Markotet smiled, his lips curling over pointed teeth.

“I am not, young man,” he said. “May I come in? I have something I wish to discuss with you. It concerns...”

Markotet’s eyes flickered to the side as he thought about how to word his request. “It concerns a matter of survival. For your entire race.”

Minagh sighed but stepped back, allowing the diminutive Markotet entrance into his home. The creature placed his cane in the umbrella stand by the front door and slowly walked towards the kitchen table, ignoring the shattered glass and wine-soaked floorboards.

“Could I trouble you for a cup of tea?” Markotet asked. “I rarely get the chance to leave my home and I do so love tea.”

“Look,” Minagh said, slamming the door. “I don’t know why you’re here but asking me for tea right now is extremely insensitive.”

Markotet frowned as he sat on a chair. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I forgot myself. I am sorry for your loss, Minagh.”

Minagh’s blood curdled in fear and suspicion. This creature that looked like a demon knew his name. He grabbed the beast’s cane and walked over to the table in a rage, slamming the piece of wood down in front of Markotet.

“How do you know my name?!” Minagh bellowed. “Why are you here?! Are you a demon?!”

Markotet closed his eyes, his hands resting on the table. His serenity gave Minagh pause, making him falter and pull the cane back.

“I know your name, Minagh, because I work for someone incredibly important. This world speaks of a Creator, a God, He who is called I Am. The truth is actually more complex and would take far too much time to explain fully. Know however that I have been sent here with an offer for you and you alone. To help.”

Minagh rested the cane on the table and strode to the other side, opposite Markotet. He sat down, sizing the small creature up.

“If you really work for a God, prove it,” Minagh said. “Because all I see is a demon.”

“You are correct,” Markotet said, crossing his fingers on the table. “I was once a demon but I am no longer. I was elevated, given purpose above my station, just as I offer to you now.”

Minagh grunted, leaning back in his chair. “I hate to question God but He’s got the wrong guy.”

“She,” Markotet corrected. “The Creator is a She. She is far more powerful than any God you are aware of.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Whatever,” Minagh said. “Still got the wrong guy. I farm potatoes and carrots. I live in the arse end of Ireland. I just... lost my wife. So unless you’re going to offer to bring her back, I ain’t interested.”

Markotet clicked his teeth. He tapped the table with a bony knuckle, deep thought written over his features.

“I can’t do that,” Markotet finally admitted. “Clementine is dead and her soul has passed. Even I can’t reverse the natural order of things. I can tell you however where she ended up.”

Minagh perked up. He could know where his wife went? At the same time, did he want to know? What if Clementine had been sent to Hell? The other thing was that he had just learned the understood principles of Gods were different from reality. Did that mean there was no Hell?

“Tell me,” Minagh said in a soft voice, leaning forward. “Where did she go?”

Markotet closed his eyes. The temperature in the room increased slowly as the creature’s aura burned like a fire. Minagh watched, ignoring the sweat dripping off his face, afraid to take his eyes off of Markotet.

The creature cleared his throat and the temperature dropped immediately back to the frigid cold the storm provided.

“Well?” Minagh demanded.

“I have good news,” Markotet said. “Your wife has been sent to Eden. That’s the good one.”

Minagh sighed in relief. His wife was in the good afterlife. All he needed to do was be good enough to be there with her.

Saying no to a God was probably a bad idea...

“What’s the deal?” Minagh said quickly, standing up and walking to the cabinet, pulling out Clementine’s tea chest. Markotet was taken aback by the sudden change in personality.

“Yes, um,” Markotet stuttered before composing himself. “Ahem. It’s simple. I want to give you power, Minagh. The power to protect Earth from what seeks to destroy it in the future.”

“Like what?” Minagh said, placing the kettle on the stove.

“Demons,” Markotet said. “Vampires, mages, monsters. I cannot tell you what you will face but I can give you the tools needed to fight them.”

“Why did She pick me?” Minagh asked, turning to face Markotet.

“Because you have nothing to lose,” Markotet said seriously. “Your wife is dead and there’s nothing left for you to fear. You would make the perfect paragon.”

Minagh’s mouth twitched in annoyance but he did see the argument. The only family he had left was his sister Niamh but he rarely spoke to her these days. He tried to think of what else could hold him back and his thoughts clouded. His hand rose to his forehead.

“In exchange for this power, Minagh, you are the last line of defense on Earth. You must seek to make yourself stronger by any means necessary. You must survive.”

The kettle whistled and Minagh turned his back to make the tea. He’d heard stories of great heroes from the books Clementine read, from the stories his father told. Heroes that stood to the darkness to protect loved ones or friends. Heroes that protected the world because it was the right thing to do. Minagh turned the stove off and placed the kettle on the cold hotplate before carrying Markotet’s tea to the table, placing it in front of him.

“What would I get? In terms of... power?”

“The connection to The Source will increase your strength and speed and give you the ability to draw from the powers of any past hero should you desire it. This connection has a drawback however.”

Markotet decided to show his point. “Do you have a biscuit?”

Minagh retrieved one from the pantry and placed it on the saucer by the tea. Markotet held the biscuit up. “Imagine this biscuit is you and the tea is The Source.” Markotet quickly tapped the edge of the surface of the tea with the biscuit and pulled it back. “See how the tea was absorbed but the structure of the biscuit remains mostly the same?”

Minagh had an idea where this was going but he allowed Markotet to continue.

“The more you use The Source to further your own power, the larger the price. More and more, the biscuit is replaced by tea until...” Markotet pushed the biscuit into the tea and the two of them watched it dissolve from the heated liquid.

“I give you this warning while also telling you to get stronger. Only use your connection sparingly, lest you lose yourself to it.”

Minagh nodded. He understood to a degree. He thought of it like getting drunk. Too much and he could kill himself.

“You said this was a deal,” Minagh said, his eyes still on the biscuit pieces floating in the tea. “What do I have to give you?”

Markotet nodded. “The price has already been taken care of. You agreed to it on the condition I wipe it from your memory.”

Minagh grimaced. Was that true? It must have been a steep price if he wanted to forget it entirely. What had he given up?

“So I already agreed. Why don’t I feel any different?”

Markotet laughed, sipping on his biscuit-flavoured tea. “Simply put, sir, your connection is there but you do not know how to access it yet. There is someone who can assist you with that but I fear my time is up.”

Markotet placed the teacup down carefully and stood. “I apologise I cannot help you on this journey except to point you in a direction. I suggest to you, Minagh, that you go to India. You will meet your first guide there.”

Minagh had never left Ireland and he was now being told to go to India?! Was his first guide a guru of some sort?

Markotet sighed happily, satisfied with the deal. His body started to fade, become more transparent as the moments passed. Minagh watched him fade, silently wondering if this had all been a dream

“Good luck to you, Minagh.”

The former demon disappeared, leaving only one confused and grieving human. Minagh stared at the spot Markotet had been standing. He reached his hand out and felt only warm air.

“India...” Minagh said to himself. He turned on his heel quickly and ran to his bedroom. He opened his trunk and pulled out his clothes, perfectly folded by his wife before she had died. He unceremoniously stuffed it all into his shoulder-strapped bag.

“How am I going to get to India?”