Status: ongoing
Daemon Malign
Prologue Part 4
**Lupa**
Ireland, 1996
The wind flowed through the autumn leaves, sending a few crunching and tumbling down the hill. The sun was beginning to set, shedding a fiery light over the cemetery. A cloaked figure stood in front of one of the headstones, their hair as red as the fallen leaves.
The wind blew stronger, causing the cloak to shift back, revealing a rusty-brown tail. The setting sun twinkled in azure eyes that portrayed fierce rage and hate. The girl crouched down, brushing leaves from the headstone, revealing a name: Ian O’Callahan.
The girl straightened, brushing her long bangs out of her eyes. She couldn’t believe that after the year and a half that had passed, she would even care to find his tombstone. She looked at the year of death, somehow satisfied. 1994. Eleven years after her birth. Eight years after her hybredization. She had finally killed him.
She remembered everything she had been through. Her master’s face, line with stubble, had always seemed affixed with a stupid grin. She remembered everything he had made her do. “Lupa, draw me a bath… Lupa, get me some tea…” Lupa this, Lupa that—but what would get to her was when he called her ‘dog’. She found it absolutely degrading. Of course she was combined with a canine, but it had been a noble beast… an almost godly animal.
“Wolves are certainly a force to be reckoned with. Don’t you agree, ‘master’?” she muttered mockingly to the soil.
She remembered the day his life had ended as if it was yesterday.
Another seemingly mundane task proved to be her chance to destroy the man that had ruined her life. He had asked her to shave him, something his other servant, a swan hyebred, would normally do. Lupa had taken his best razor, carefully shaving him until his face was as smooth as marble.
As he had leaned forward to get up out of his chair, Lupa had lunged forward, pushing him back against it. The wolf within her told her exactly where to bite. She sunk her teeth into his neck, biting with all of her might. He had managed to push her off of him, but his neck was bleeding badly. Lupa grabbed the razor and plunged it through Ian’s chest.
He fell down, paralyzed in disbelief, as his life poured out of him onto the wooden floor. She fled his mansion, stealing food from the kitchen and clothing from his son’s room. So here she stood, still wearing his son’s clothes, before the grave of someone who considered her his pet.
“You’re a terrible man. I hope you went to hell. I suppose I’m no better than you. Hell, I’ve killed. But if I’m heading down with the devil, I’ll at least drag some bastards down with me.”
She spat on his grave as the leaves covered his name, then she turned to the left of the setting sun.
Ireland, 1996
The wind flowed through the autumn leaves, sending a few crunching and tumbling down the hill. The sun was beginning to set, shedding a fiery light over the cemetery. A cloaked figure stood in front of one of the headstones, their hair as red as the fallen leaves.
The wind blew stronger, causing the cloak to shift back, revealing a rusty-brown tail. The setting sun twinkled in azure eyes that portrayed fierce rage and hate. The girl crouched down, brushing leaves from the headstone, revealing a name: Ian O’Callahan.
The girl straightened, brushing her long bangs out of her eyes. She couldn’t believe that after the year and a half that had passed, she would even care to find his tombstone. She looked at the year of death, somehow satisfied. 1994. Eleven years after her birth. Eight years after her hybredization. She had finally killed him.
She remembered everything she had been through. Her master’s face, line with stubble, had always seemed affixed with a stupid grin. She remembered everything he had made her do. “Lupa, draw me a bath… Lupa, get me some tea…” Lupa this, Lupa that—but what would get to her was when he called her ‘dog’. She found it absolutely degrading. Of course she was combined with a canine, but it had been a noble beast… an almost godly animal.
“Wolves are certainly a force to be reckoned with. Don’t you agree, ‘master’?” she muttered mockingly to the soil.
She remembered the day his life had ended as if it was yesterday.
Another seemingly mundane task proved to be her chance to destroy the man that had ruined her life. He had asked her to shave him, something his other servant, a swan hyebred, would normally do. Lupa had taken his best razor, carefully shaving him until his face was as smooth as marble.
As he had leaned forward to get up out of his chair, Lupa had lunged forward, pushing him back against it. The wolf within her told her exactly where to bite. She sunk her teeth into his neck, biting with all of her might. He had managed to push her off of him, but his neck was bleeding badly. Lupa grabbed the razor and plunged it through Ian’s chest.
He fell down, paralyzed in disbelief, as his life poured out of him onto the wooden floor. She fled his mansion, stealing food from the kitchen and clothing from his son’s room. So here she stood, still wearing his son’s clothes, before the grave of someone who considered her his pet.
“You’re a terrible man. I hope you went to hell. I suppose I’m no better than you. Hell, I’ve killed. But if I’m heading down with the devil, I’ll at least drag some bastards down with me.”
She spat on his grave as the leaves covered his name, then she turned to the left of the setting sun.