Chapter Three
 The Statement of Truth

For a moment hush was present, hush and the rushed breathing of the servant who was now struck into suppressed quietness, no doubtfully gagging on her own tongue which sprung forth such words.

"Demon…" she murmured once more, unable to string a sentence together.
"Yes." I replied feeling the confidence inside me soar. "You are correct. Demon, that is what they all say, that is what they all whisper." My voice never faulted, it was as cold as it had been when confronting Mortanius.

Out of slight humour for myself I added, "A Demonic child crafted by Mortanius himself." I found her fear most satisfying and was all too suddenly becoming drunk on the thoughts. The fact that for once I was not the one who was frightened, and that I had power over someone else.

A noise diverted my gaze to another position within the room. Silence was shattered again and now lay fragmented when one of the curtains was dragged off the wooden rail by what seemed like an invisible hand. The fabric was thrown to the floor in a rough and useless manner. The Wooden rail was the next to collapse, following the descent of the curtains and falling to the floor with a heavy clank as wood pole hit wooden surface.

Again, no sound. Silence had been fractured and was too far away to be of any comfort. Instead of the stillness of something ending this was but the silence of something just beginning. Above all it was very much the lull before the storm. A gesture that was a permanent marker, indeed the rising from ashes, chaos stirring, dormant powers awakening…

From the beginning of Their first statement other gestures followed swiftly. The curtain fabric torn, torn just like the fabric of this world. An unearthly feel descended upon the room, creeping in from places unimagined, light chased from the room as darkness called in an unearthly voice. From corners shadows loomed inwards and no longer did the sun shine through the windows. That smell of popery became lost when the smell of fear rose. Such a smell of prettiness, such sites of prettiness, were chocked from this room, any feeling of assurance was being strangled.

A vase of flowers upon the window ledge clattered to the floor. The flowers were shredded in apparent bloody pieces. And as everything happened the servant flinched in response, as each item was wrecked with such a ruthless manner and little regard for any other but myself. The bowl that had been filled with water from the jug was lifted from the ground and then dropped upon the floor, the liquefied element spreading and seeping throughout.

A feeling of power was rectified, the constant clatter about the room, the feel of an ethereal storm that was so suddenly created. More stuff to destroy, that utmost invisible hand ran along the surface of the desk, such a quick gesture to swipe things away.

And all through the chaos that was woven I was caught up in the delight of the response They were giving. The overall protection that I was receiving as things around me fell apart.

I was Drunk upon her fear, which I fed from like Vampires feed from blood. I imagined that I saw Them and the dances they wove. The way They reached out for her with Their misshapen claws, calling such things that only I could hear. And then she screamed.

When I heard her scream I was shook violently back into my senses and reality. Her scream, it broke out around us. Others would hear. But it was not that which had brought me out of the drunken state. It was the fact that I realised everything They did was done by Them, and I had no control.

Again she screamed and I became aware that there were people coming, running up the stairs, having no doubt heard the bells of chaos ringing, items being destroyed and then her screams.

In response to such the heavy bolt upon the door was turned. The bolt slid across quickly with the resonance of grinding metal. I had not locked such a contraption; it was instead Their own doing, their own gesture.

Heavy banging upon the door, some voices and then another voice breaking through the ruckus, asking and wanting to know what the hell was going on.

They saw that voice as an intrusion; it only annoyed Them more to which They demonstrated this by picking up the broken jug and throwing it across the room. It hit abruptly against the door with a heavy clatter. The servant flinched once more. Her screams had quieted down and now she just seemed to be in shock, stammering slightly. Her eyes blood shot, tear stained and glary, perhaps she thought this was nothing more then a surreal dream.

"I warned you." I stated starring at her and standing in a stance that was almost stone like, and then another sudden jolt on the door as those outside attempted to get in and I stepped away. From that moment I understood that I had better leave this place.

I quickly approached one of the windows and flung it open. My heart was beginning to race, my pulsation quelling in my own throat. Their anger, although done in a rage mirroring my own anxiety of the servant's discovery, put me in danger, danger from the men that were trying to enter the room.

I discovered something, with every palpitation of my anger so Their advancement continued and with every worry that I beheld so Their onslaught worsened. The sound of Their presence was almost becoming deafening.

There was a sudden gust of wind from outside as the latch opened and the window jutted open. I gazed downwards. Below the window was the roof of another building, not that much a drop but it was still enough to make me hesitate. My hands latched onto the window ledge and I pulled myself quickly up. For a moment I turned to see what melee was being acted out behind me.

I will admit I was reluctant to just suddenly 'leap' out the window. But then my mind was easily persuaded, for I would rather do that then be caught by them. And the persuasion of my mind was created by the images I recalled from times with father, what he had done when annoyed with me. No, I would rather jump and let fate take a hold then wait to face their wrath.

The servant was in position by the door. Meanwhile each thing collapsed within itself with such supernatural force that They could create.

For moments there seemed to be a struggle between her and Them as she attempted to open the door, her hands challenging to force the bolt back in hope that she could exit the nightmare that waltzed around her. And within my mind I could hear Their laughter of her desperate state, the way They drew pleasure from it like I had drew pleasure from her fear.

To see her like that ignited Their souls and with their joyous calls They attempted to take me with them, to wrap me deep within Their own power over someone else and the essence that They drew from it throughout.

I closed my eyes and savoured it all, breathing in deep of the quintessence They took from Their display of power. At such a time I could almost feel myself drift, like I was caught up within something, something… more. And oh how the feeling of being able to suddenly fade took place! The emotion within the room, the taste and smell of fear fuelled the notion of being able to and for a sudden moment I was nearly drowning within. It was like I was being pulled by Them, pulled to wherever They wished me to be drawn. And the feelings that I had felt, the anxiety was being lost in an overwhelming current that wished, that wanted to take a hold and all I had to do was to allow it to.

But an eruption of noise came through, and my connection was broken, broken by that sudden noise. Urgent were those outside, urgent to get into this room, and the door was taking all the punishment that they could deliverer in their attempt to enter.

My eyes shot open as the room materialised into sight once more. What a strange feeling that had been. For a moment I wondered to what could have happened. I had never experienced that before… never. I could have sworn that I saw Them, Them and the world They inhabited. But as the door threatened to break any given moment my restlessness for the situation came back and I was soon to forget such an experience.

Finally They grew board with the whole situation. They grew bored with toying with her, and I watched perched on the windows ledge as they swiped the servant aside. A careless gesture, one done with not much thought, and one that resulted in her hitting the wall with a sickening sound and then descending to the floor like some doll.

I watched with vivid fascination as she lay unmoving, a trickle of blood starting to make way down the side of her face, her eyes staring out blankly before they fluttered and closed. Then the final requiem as the objects that had taken flight by invisible grasps were dropped to the floor, a heavy sound followed as what was not broken before broke now.

My chest rose and fell with added anticipation. The dust of hush emerged from shattered moments; quietness stepped in to regain its place of dominance. I gripped on tightly to where it was I perched, apprehensive with what might happen now. I was not frightened, not of Them, not of those that had been my protectors. But I was frightened of those that were still trying to get in.

Men, three of them I suspected, trying to force open the door whilst another called the servants name. I glanced at the fallen body of the servant, she did not respond and I had not expected her to.

With the sound of grating metal the bolt on the door was pushed back and with added force three men, the ones that had banged on the door, stumbled into the room suddenly surprised by the fact that door was now open. 'They' were allowing them to enter, but I could not help but think at what cost.

Automatically the first place in the room they rushed to be was where the female servant lay. Still I knelt upon the ledge, holding on tightly and casting an image of someone who had just been caught breaking into a room and stunned with sudden speechlessness. Yet I was still gazing at them and still wondering what would happen.

Abruptly one of them came to sense my eyes upon their backs and he turned, returning my gaze with one of his own. Unconsciously and like some savage beast I felt a hiss escape my lips in some warning that if he dare come near…

My mind became an open fracture to past torment and hurt at the one that had always foreshadowed my life as a child, that one known as father. Perhaps the hiss was the disgust I felt for him which was then reflected upon any man that seemed 'hand fisted'.

The man stood up and I noticed that his hand was instinctively going to a dagger at his waste. I remember looking upon his dagger for a quick moment because it was beautiful in the simplest of ways. In my mind, as it froze over with the coldness of my attitude, I fancied having that dagger for myself, deciding that it would look far better within my grasps then in his.

A nightmarish image of me with the dagger and blood painting its delicate blade grew within my mind, and my confidence sprung from such a thing.

"Monstrous child." He denounced me with such a title that long ago I had already accepted.
"Stay back…" I warned, now beginning to rise, bending slightly with the way the roof curved, as a frown caressed his face. I was becoming aware of the change in myself, the way I had consumed my anxiety and was taking a grip of fear and dispelling it. After all had I not witnessed the damage They could do? And inside I acknowledged this and understood that while They were here I had absolutely nothing to fear of anyone.

"Careful, They watch you Sir." Again another warning. I did not really care that much for him, but I thought that I would warn him about the danger nonetheless, in hope that he would keep his distance from me and possibly so that he could grasp at the element of the power that shielded me. For that alone made me feel superior.

"You can do nothing to me child." Those words, full of spite, and gently I smiled at him.
"Why?" A question asked, my voice striking bitter ice in the room, an unnatural tone for such a child. "Who protects you Sir?"

Behind him the other men were tending to the woman. One man lifted her up and quickly exited giving me a weary look; the other one then joined his companion who now faced me. I scoffed, what was this? Who were they; some holy images come to exorcise me, to purify this child? I narrowed my eyes and embraced my guardians.

With the wind from outside against me I took another gaze at the man. Behind him broken pieces of pottery lay on the floor, dangerous in all intent, shaped like long glacial daggers. I favoured the thoughts of seeing them begin to move, as it was these two men began to approach me. Confidence shown through their eyes and I, I was fooling them.

Within my mind I was propelling and warping their minds… 'Just a child, a harmless child, but a child that is spawn to something more powerful then you will ever know.' And in their confidence they forgot or simply did not believe that I had watchers and that They were watching them, and those delightful shards of pottery were beginning to take life… Quivering on the ground slightly as if responding to the gift of life.

I knew what I had to do. I was being instructed to leave the room and my only way of escape was this open window.

"They love your soul Sir." Another smile. His face clouded over with complexity of my words, and I could see what thoughts progressed through his mind, that I was apparently mad.

"They see your life ebb its way through you…" I took not much notice of his companion, for he was not much of a threat, just a bystander. "And They want it."

No notion of understanding what so ever, but I found the situation of his perplexity amusing to see at the very least, and with that I took my leave.

The outside opened out to me, my hands slipped from the ledge and I dropped to the roof below. I was gone before they even realised, for they had not expected for a child such as myself to just suddenly jump.

On impact I was winded briefly. A groan escaped me as I landed in a crouched position before sliding sideward with the slope of the roof. With gritted teeth my hands worked at taking a grip of something to stop me from falling anymore. But I continued to slide until it was I dug my feet into the surface of the roof and pulled myself up carefully into standing.

Within my body I was throbbing. My knees vaguely hurt from the small drop, but hurting even more were the bruises that showed of my fall the night before. It did not matter though, and I was able to push such thoughts of aching aside and continue in haste with my aim of escape.

A noise from within that room, and as I was abiding my escape I took one last look at the window. I already understood what had happened; shards of icicle thin draw upon blood from within…

The child inside of me was exhausted but my body was responding to the natural reaction of fleeing. And before long I was slipping and sliding in my overall effort of prolongation in escape before finally reaching the ground.

I coughed and regained breath upon my knees, shivering more from coldness then fright, sudden coldness of the rawness of bitter hatred consequential to others. Nevertheless, I was soon to get up once more and to continue hurrying onwards, heading away from the Tavern lest be caught by any that might suddenly attempt to head off my escape. If they caught me I feared for them…

With no idea where I was going I set myself forwards, stumbling every now and then over jutted cobblestones, at one point a sellers wares and occasionally people who's path I drifted into in a somewhat delusional state. But none could care about this child, and I cared little about them. I am not sure what I would have done if someone had stopped my running and asked if I was all right. Perhaps such is best left untold.

Exhaustion wanted to take a grip of my body and was already plaguing my limbs, but the overall pace of escape was so natural that I allowed myself to just run, or stumble and occasionally crawl so that I could once again haul myself back upon those feet that wanted nothing more but to carry on running.

The scene of back there was something that ran simultaneously throughout my mind as I ran onwards, of what had happened, of what I had done and of what I had supposedly controlled. Reality was cold but then it always has been. It was like someone had thrown a pale of cold water upon my skin, and now all that faced me was the aftermath.

"Fear, nothing to fear, Azimuth." In incoherent words I muttered to myself in the most pathetic snivel of a vexation coming from emotion that I was not sure how to handle. All that back there, it was something new, an experience that I had never witnessed before. All that, the way They had claimed siege upon the room.

With another jab of reality I stopped running and instead walked on in some limping fashion, dazed and unable to care of my surroundings. My emotion was quick to be locked away, emotion made me weak. In such circumstances I was to remain strong or regret it. To this gesture of banishing emotion I had no feelings, the feeling had disappeared with my anxiety and yet I suddenly became aware of feeling something… Something sharp, and I felt the glass on my face, those tears… Not my tears surely, for Azimuth never cried, not this child, never…

But they were mine, and they did hurt, and as I cried I put my hands to my face to wipe them away. Those that were normal cried tears of bitterness, whilst the other one, the one that she, the servant had discovered, the third eye, cried tears of blood, and it was that one that caused the pain.

Ah yes, the demonic mark, the one element that set me apart from them, that and my understanding of other dimensions. I contemplated this as in some unoccupied alleyway. I sat with knees drawn up close to my chest, my mind within some disjointed daydream of nothingness.

I thought once more of Them and of what had happened back there, the discovery, her fear, my annoyance, Their anger and those that wished to get into the room. The consequences of such actions left me with uncertainty.

My tears ended and smudged blood from such emotion lay cold against my burning skin. But no one saw it. I had picked a spot where no one came for there was no light here; the buildings that fortified such an alleyway blocked it out, but I did not care for it. The sunlight had been no comfort to me, and light itself was not meant for creatures such as I.

Creeping in came a breeze, catching my garments and gracing the hairs upon my skin. More forlorn looking now was I then I had ever been…

It was a shock when I found something cold resting in my hands. Shocking was the icy bite compared to the sudden contrast of the fever which had took a hold upon my own membrane of flesh.

My eyes had been closed, I had released the hold upon the flame that burned inside and it was now dimming, no longer shining within my eyes. Extinguish the glow… and I did. I could feel my body sway with the wavier of the breeze as it picked up through this damned place. Underneath me the stone of the alleyway was cold but nothing colder compared to what seemed to have been rested in my hands.

With my eyes still closed I suddenly realised that my hands had been lifted from where I had rested them, lifted and opened gently, and not by myself either. And now something heavy lay within them, heavy and with an icy bite. So bitter was it that it seemed to emit a glow of such.

'Look Azimuth, look…'
But I did not wish to open my eyes. To open them was to sentence myself to seeing the world around me, and in doing that I was acknowledging the moments which had just been displayed before.

"Azimuth…"
The child opened her eyes when she heard her name spoken through the vocals of a mortal tone. Feminine it sounded but she paid little heed. No, little attention was paid on the surrounds for I was too caught up in my own fascination…

Within my hands lay the element of what radiated the coldness upon my skin, a dagger…

They brought me a dagger as a gift, and not just any dagger. As I turned it within my hands and studied its simple yet beautiful decoration a chill descended upon my spine. It had been his dagger, the Mortal man who had called me 'Monstrous Child', and I found myself smiling.

On the very tip of the blade was the essence of blood, beautiful upon the silver it did look and already I understood what had happened. Yet even more so I found myself questioning what had been…

Why had They not done that when he had lashed out at mother and me? Why had I only heard Their screams of anguish and yet They had never come to wreak havoc, not like They had back there?

I considered all aspects, every angle of the situation that I un-wove in my own sorrow crafted from deep contemplation, whilst throughout I continued to stare at Their gift for me, this dagger.

Finally I settled upon a solution that might settle my mind and my question towards Them. In consequence I thought that perhaps it was I who had empowered Them. Perhaps that had been my doing, and in reality my anger had been channelled through Them. For it was only now that I was becoming aware of the emotion such as anger, and it was only now that it was showing.

When father's own anger was ripe I would retreat into my mind and the worlds that lingered there, thus I ignored everything going on around me, for my soul was locked deep inside my body. I understood that there was one thing he could never harm, and that was my being, my essence and my soul.

So They had come because I had willed them to? And what had been that willing, what had been the offer? No doubts They did what they did out of protection for me, but I was certain that there was more. Once more I looked at the blood upon the blade of the dagger.

"Azimuth…" Again that voice caught up in my thoughts, ensnared deep within them and I had paid little heed to where that voice came from. Tightly I gripped my gift and then I looked up.

At the entrance of the alleyway stood a figure, a figure that suggested whoever they were, they were no taller then myself, either a small woman or a child. A girl… but the question that rose was, were they a threat to me?

Maybe not… or yet maybe not what I could see. As another silhouette appeared next to them I was soon to find my voice. "Keep away, you know not what you do if you are to come a step closer." A warning sent forth, but the smaller figure took no heed.

Curiously as they stepped forwards I felt the atmosphere tense, as if They got ready to respond. All for good reason as well, for as I took them in I came to realize that one, the taller figure, was carrying a weapon, a malicious looking one at that.

I am not sure whether I looked timidly at this weapon or whether the girl felt the atmosphere tense, but she did feel something of that I am certain. Perhaps it was the currents within the fabric of this world and she felt balance be disrupted for a moment. Whatever it was she responded and wanted to make sure that the atmosphere lulled itself into a relaxed one as quickly as possible.

She frowned and she spoke with a voice that was as mystic as it was firm. "Malek, sheath that weapon of yours, she is of no threat to us."