0.11

For the past three months, I had been burdened with this nightmare of a child. He appears like a reaper when least expected, and disappears into thin air when I most require him. Yesterday, he had turned 11 years old, as decided by Jacob and the nightingale, so as to “mark” a date that child of unknown origins came to exist. He was stolen of his first kiss by the nightingale, and I had presented him with a few clothes that I had bought from Gargol's at a cheap price.

But even after all this time, the nightingales have not found a single clue about where the boy had come from. However, his bloodline has been identified. A descendant of the extinct white saber tooth tiger, according to Jacob, but I had thought him to be the descendant of a regular white cat from his ears and tail that had become fluffy this past month.

However, the signs from the boy this past month made me completely agree with Jacob on his hypothesis.

After being ordered to eat, the boy will continue devouring until nothing is left in front of him, where a regular kitten could never be able to achieve that kind of appetite. Furthermore, the imposing feeling he gives off even as he sulks with his hunched back, points to a higher position up the food-chain.

I even felt hints of an aura revolving around him at times, especially when he is ordered to go all out as he practices the sword with the nightingale.

“Margaret.” A warm wind falls upon my nape, and in my surprise, I jump from my chair and stare at the blindfolded white haired boy, his ears unceasingly twitching at all times.

“Prefection! Did you need something?”

“Did you need me?”

“Uhh...”

“I answered your call.”

Also, this boy seems to have some sort of hidden power that reads thoughts. Without mentioning his eyes, this boy is a monster amongst those of his own age. It would be scary to see what this boy could do if he was let loose amongst the other children.

I stiffen my expression and look around me, searching for the white fluffy tail that had already disappeared from right under my nose. It seemed like all it took was a blink to make him disappear. I sometimes fear that he would appear when I am within the bath, whilst doing certain things.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Even though I have already gotten the displeasure of washing the boy, and seeing all the marks he has endured upon his body. Even Jacob could not erase all the scars and chains the little tiger carried. However, I doubt the boy will ever be free and unbroken, he has not changed ever since the nightingale carried him in from Jacob.

I fear for the future of this boy, and letting the nightingale adopt the child has proved to have been a mistake that all the villagers agree upon. With her, he will just continue to deteriorate from the path of recovery, if there was ever a path to begin with.

…

“Faster.”

Thud

“More complex”

Thud

“Less power”

Thud

The boy flew back, carrying dust along with him. His grip indenting upon the wood of the sword, as he launches himself back to the whirlpool of chaos.

I had been right when saying the boy will never be free. His prodigious leaps and bounds with the sword only continue to chain him down to that of a killer, and it is all due to the plan of that devilish nightingale that continues to press the boy even harder, as he starts to show signs of greatness. I really wish the boy had no talent at all.

The boy stops in the middle of his charge and lifts his head in my direction, his blindfold slips and our eyes connect. The boy stands in front of me, traversing a distance of over 50 meters in a single instant.

“Do you require me?”

He asks, but his dead eyes stare into my very soul and I feel his probing at every corner. He already knows my answer and my thoughts, so why does he still ask?

A smirk creeps up the boys face, and I blanch in surprise as I blink, only to notice the boy is back on the practice grounds facing the nightingale.

Has my sight started to fail me?