Chapter I - Apostasy
Michmethah sat on the cold floor of the barn. The sun began to set. Soon the he would be engulfed by the blackness of night. Michmethah sighed. He gently touched the sore, shallow cut on his throat. Why did he do that? Michmethah thought to himself. What on earth possessed him to do such a thing? He could have killed me... Michmethah moved his hand from his throat to his throbbing cheek. By now it had faded from it's angry red colour and was now bruised in mottled shades of black and blue. They tell stories.. Each time I'm punished, each scar left behind is a part of my history. It's who I am... Still, he insists on abusing me so unfairly, my actions surely don't deserve such treatment... He mused to himself. Michmethah was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of foot steps.
"I do hope your wounds heal quickly, Michmethah." the voice said from behind him.
"Thank you Malachi."
"How did you know it was I, without even turning around?" Malachi asked casually.
"The ambience of the room changes whenever you're in it." said Michmethah coldly. He turned around slowly to meet Malachi's stony stare. "Why do you abuse me so?"
"I abuse you so because you deserve it. You need to be reprimanded, you won't learn otherwise. Though I'm beginning to doubt that you will ever learn." Malachi sniggered. Michmethah hung his head, as if he was ashamed. "You need to be hurt, it is the only form of punishment that you understand. I abuse because I care about the future of the Children. Frankly, you do not matter. Just the Children..."
"Tell me, do you matter?" inquired Michmethah. Malachi remained silent for a moment.
"Of course I matter..."
"So you matter, but I do not matter? I'm to rule over the Children, and I do not matter? I'm your replacement! I'm your heir! You think that you are superior to me? I am to be your equal!" Michmethah screamed. Michmethah rose to his feet.
"You dare defy my rule? You step out of line far too often... Give me your arm." Malachi commanded. Malachi drew out his dagger. Michmethah glared at Malachi.
"No." Michmethah said roughly. "You do not own me anymore."
"You foolish little maggot!" Malachi lunged towards Michmethah. Michmethah merely stepped to the left, thus dodging his attack.
"Months of this torture, this criticism, the harsh punishments..." Malachi leapt towards Michmethah. "...all culminate to this point. The finale. Tell me, whatever shall I do when the great Malachi is dead? Will the children mourn? Taste the kiss of fate, you wretched worm!" Michmethah lowered his head and stepped menacingly towards Malachi.
"What do you mean, taste the kiss of fate?" Malachi asked, his voice quivering. Malachi began to back up, his entire body trembling with fear. "What do you mean?" Michmethah continued to advance on Malachi, walking through the eerie shadows caused by the setting sun. He reached for the scythe hanging on the wall to his left.
"Your bones shall build my throne..." Michmethah spat. "Onto your knees, Malachi." Malachi stood still in shock. "Onto your knees!" Michmethah cried. Malachi obliged and dropped down to his knees. Michmethah held the blade of the scythe to Malachi's throat. "Are you frightened, Malachi?" Michmethah smirked. He drew back the blade and struke Malachi's neck. Dark blood spattered onto the sallow straw. Malachi's lifeless body lay limp on the dirty floor, his head not far away. The blood continued to pool beneath him, coating the ground like a macabre carpet. Michmethah stepped over the corpse and headed toward the door. "The souls of your slain shall feed on your corpse."