Reincarnated Into A Hell Hound - Chapter 114

That night I dreamed about us, about our past, about how we meet… it could be said that I remembered more than ‘dreamed’ about it, even more because when the next day came the images were still strong and vivid in my mind, making me think of all the things that happened until now, of how life… has a strange way of binding people together, of how destiny is full of ups and downs.

And as I stroked your hair and watched your sleeping face, bitter memories came back to me, as if to say goodbye, in a way to…to let it go, to leave the past where it belongs, far back.

It all began when I was still a little boy, so young and innocent that I didn’t realize how my actions would affect me in the future.

I lived in a small village with my father where we planted what we ate and hunted for fur and meat, a place where everybody knew each other by name.

And that’s not always a good thing.

We were foreigners, outsiders, or at least the villagers thought so just because we did not grow and lived our entire lives there like most, but came later one, me still a toddler on my father’s arms.

Beyond that I had unusual features: smooth white skin, blond-platinum wavy hair and purple big shiny eyes, I would hardly be left out on the neighbor’s talk, and words could turn even beauty into ugliness by the mere jealousy of the talker.

It didn’t help that my mother was nowhere to be found, and as a single child of an average looking father, many gossiped about my origins.

Hell, even my race was questioned by those with plain-looking children.

So even though many praised my good looks, others would sneer and question where my father could have taken me from; where is the mother? Does the sun never touch this child skin? So skinny, do you even feed that child of ours?

In a boring stale village, the neighbors would seek anything to distract themselves, and what better than to kick someone who is down and get your ego higher for not being the lowest for a change?

Overall, however, I had a good home, a good father. Even though some would talk behind our backs and we had to work hard to sustain ourselves, I can’t complain because the few happy memories with overflowing freeness that I had were from that time, images of an open field of grass around the village and small talks in our small shack at night, the face of a laughing man fading away as fleeing memories.

I remember a kind face, a gentle smile… indeed the best times.

Until, that is, the day that I turn out to be as exceptional as the gossips speculated.

It was the week that I found out about my powers in such a silly, such a naïve way… but only now I realize it, older, and I have always wondered if that day had never came, or rather, if this power had never surged, how my life would be so… so different.

As most little villages ours was surrounded by grasslands and forests, the perfect playground for any kid, and even if warned over and over about the dangers of these places… well, kids would be kids and one day even I ended up deep in the woods.

Funny… I don’t even remember how anymore… maybe playing tag? Or someone challenged me into going into the lake?

The point is, I was there, alone, admiring nature without a worry, walking as if in the middle of the town, when I found a wounded animal. It was a bird the size of a fat goose, but even though he was somewhat big in comparison with my child’s body it still wasn’t enough to raise my very low guard.

The rest was obvious… enchanted by such pitiful creature I approach without taking care, and with a strong wish to help it a warm feeling surges from inside and runs down my limbs into the tip of my fingers, making them shine towards the bird.

I reach out, my eyes full of shining stairs while I admired the fainted bird, a four-legged peac.o.c.k with long yellow-green-blue wings and a tail bigger than his whole body, the beauty tainted by a smeared of blood on its chest that shallowed the creature’s breath.

I watch in fascination as, when I reach to touch it, the light crisscrossed midair from my fingers like little snakes and started mending the wound from inside-out, healing it until the animal opens its eyes and tried to stand.

I was really happy, not only for helping the creature but from finding out such beautiful magic could be made from my hands; that’s right, the only thing I thought about it at the time it was how beautiful the lights were.

Silly me.

After I helped the creature out, however, it looked terrified at me, so up close to it, and fled in panic, scratching my arm accidently on the way as it flow away.

Holding my arm and feeling the blood flow out from the scratches I held my tears in, unable to avoid that my eyes misted, my head down as I walked back home, unaware of the light shining between my hand and my arm, curing it and leaving only a phantom pain in place.

I cried once I found my father in the kitchen, and even though I was not hurt anymore the blood was still there, and one thing lead to another, until he made me show this power to him.

He was fascinated too… But in a different way.

I don’t blame him anymore for having that line of thought, my resentment for how careless he had been, his acts leading to the life I lived afterward, for how it changed everything…

What could a poor father think when their child gained such powers? That it was something divide? A gift from heavens? A little pure creature? A monster?

Well, he thought all that… and he thought of how he could make a lot of money out of it.

The first thing we did was leaving that stinky village and its gossipers behind, going where the money flowed, the cities. He then would take me to the streets and open a wound on his hand to show off my powers then make me heal people after people on a small stall. Not long after we were in big cities, with fancy clothes and good rooms, always running out of money, always spending on expensive food and paying beer for his friends.

He was blinded by the luxury, by the money… and I quickly became the chicken of the golden eggs.

And of course, as such, I was fancied by others.

We were in a good inn the day that happened, one of the windows open to the plaza right at the center, it was a big room separated in the middle by a folding screen, two beds put in opposites sides, the big one having most of the space while mine stood almost hidden amongst the bags he had bought.

I had already fallen asleep after a hot bath when a sound wakes me and a strange smell hits my nose. When I open my eyes to the pitch-black room I can barely make out silhouettes of people in, and for a second I think that my eyes are tricking me for how silent and still their presence was, until I see one of them retreat with a sword to the side, the silver glinting, shining when the moonlight hit it, giving me a clear vision of the blood dripping slowly from the sharp edge.

My eyes widen with the view.

That’s when I take in air to scream but only felt pain, no sounding coming from my mouth as my vision blurred and I passed out.