Novels2Search
The Daemon's Apostle
Chapter 1: Forsaken Memories

Chapter 1: Forsaken Memories

Chapter 1: Forsaken Memories

"I never wanted you."

The chilling voice reverberated through the darkness, encircling a small girl who sat rocking back and forth. Helplessness consumed her, and her eyes, hollow and swollen from streaming tears, met the never-ending void.

"Should that revelation surprise you?"

The voice took on a lighter tone, failing to conceal a hint of a smile as its words pierced the child. She glanced upward, her brows furrowing as she bit her lip hard, blood droplets trickling down onto her knees.

"Why did you abandon me?" she finally spoke, her voice trembling. "Why did you leave me?"

Silence.

"Mother... why won't you answer me?" The little girl's cry resounded once more, desperate for a response that could rescue her from the abyss of darkness.

But the only reply she received was the chilling void of silence.

Any flicker of hope faded from the girl's eyes, replaced by a resigned smile. Holding her knees close to her heart, she closed her eyes in acceptance.

The darkness inched closer, its ethereal tendrils gently caressing the girl. From behind her, a pair of deep amethyst eyes glowed.

"You were destined to be alone," it whispered. A set of claws emerged, guiding themselves to the girl's neck, leaving faint red indents as they tightened their grip.

Struggling for breath, the girl choked out a plea.

"Please... no..."

She pushed herself away from the claws, desperately attempting to crawl away, but the darkness clung to her like a suffocating shroud.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Please... someone, help..."

"PLEASE!"

. . .

"ASTRAEA!"

A mature woman's voice rang throughout the farmhouse, jolting the horses from their peaceful grazing. They raised their heads, curious about the sudden disturbance.

"Astraea... WAKE UP!"

"What... ugh!" The girl cried out, finally snapping awake.

She rose from amidst the jumbled piles of hay in the storage, meeting the stern gaze of a woman's face—Aunt Helen.

They couldn’t look more different. Astraea’s pale, almost golden white hair contrasted greatly with Aunt Helen’s salt and pepper gray, her large, crimson eyes meeting Aunt Helen’s black hardened pupils.

"Aunt Helen, what brings you here?" she asked softly, her mind still clouded by the remnants of the dream.

"It's half past nine! Why haven't you started loading the carts?" Aunt Helen bellowed. Her face flushed with increasing anger, and flecks of spittle escaped her mouth, landing on Astraea's face.

Among her few relatives, Astraea had no shortage of unpleasant encounters. However, Aunt Helen stood out as one of the worst. If bitterness had a physical form, it would be Aunt Helen. She seemed to harbor a deep-seated hatred for the world, and above all, for Astraea's existence. Every opportunity to work Astraea to the bone was seized, accompanied by a barrage of insults along the way.

"Yes, Aunt, I apologize," Astraea replied, resisting the urge to wipe her face clean. "I'll start right away."

With an exasperated huff, Aunt Helen departed, leaving Astraea a moment to collect herself. She surveyed her surroundings, grounding herself in reality. The scent of earth permeated the air, and the worn-out roof creaked, threatening to collapse at any moment. To an outsider, it might have seemed like a dilapidated structure, but to Astraea, it was the only home she had ever known.

"It's okay, little ones," Astraea murmured gently to the horses. As if in response, they emitted soft neighs from the adjacent room. She folded her blanket neatly and let out a sigh, tenderly touching her neck to check for any injuries.

The nightmare still lingered in her mind. It had been a while since she dreamt of her childhood self.

"ASTRAEA!" Aunt Helen's voice echoed once more, prompting the horses to neigh in uneasiness.

"I'm coming, Aunt!" Astraea cast one last glance behind her before rushing out the door. A foreboding presence tugged at her senses, but she dismissed it, unaware of the profound impact it would later have.