When she finally felt solid ground beneath her feet, she also heard wailing and moaning coming from the left. She looked there immediately. If this is called hell, surely none of you would want to go there. Darkness, lit every rare moment by dancing flames. She approached, seeing the outlines of a figure, but the boy covered her eyes.
"Don't you dare look there again.
" "Because? That idiot of yours will strip me of every last vestige of my miserable human feelings?" he yanked her and pushed her with all his might to the right. She fell onto something like hot gravel. He stomped on her with his very own hoof, and time seemed to stand still. She saw only hatred, heard only moans, and did she feel anything? She felt what had once made her scream after waking in the dark night.
"Don't speak like that, Lord, or I will be forced to deprive you of this existence too." This time he won, this time he frightened her. She had no intention of letting any insulting words cross her lips, nor did she intend to look to her left. He removed his hoof from her chest and turned his back. She looked at herself with disgust, stood up, and brushed the gravel off her.
"What's that?" She decided not to argue, not to offend, but to pretend nothing had happened.
"Human sins." The girl's behavior seemed to suit him, as he gently lifted the corners of his mouth. No, it wasn't a smile; it looked more like recognition.
"That's all?
" "They reach to the core of the earth, behind me."
"Phew! Who said I'd listen to you?! The threat in his eyes couldn't have been contained even by a hundred swords. He grabbed her delicate, graceful hand and pulled her to the right. She didn't resist, because after all, what would she do without his expertise? They entered a large chamber, everything gleaming with gold and general opulence. She looked down—the real red carpet she'd always dreamed of, opposite the real throne she'd dreamed of as a five-year-old. She recoiled immediately upon seeing the creature sitting on it. The realest scales, wings, hooves, the coldest gaze she'd ever seen, all drenched in black. All her confidence vanished in a second. All her enthusiasm vanished like untimely ice cream.
"Hello, Nadine," she stepped back even further. Her voice was worse than the entire world put together. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you if you can handle it, of course.
" "Can I handle it? Why?" she stammered.
"The task I assigned you, Nadine." The figure watched her curiously, as if she'd never seen such a frightened and innocent human. It certainly wasn't true, he had certainly made more people suffer than she could even imagine. "Would you kill your parents to stay?" She had expected cruelty from him, and she was right.
"Yes." There was nothing to ponder; even though they were parents, she only knew busy faces and expensive clothes. Besides, she no longer knew what guilt was, what love was. There was none of that here, and there never would be.
***
The snow was making its presence felt. Even though she loved winter with all her being, it was now depressing her. More and more doubts were forming in her head, yet she still walked confidently up the steps in front of her house, now their house. She called.
"Nadine! Where have you been, little girl? I was so worried about you!" A whole string of happiness could be heard in her mother's voice. The same was true in her father's, who a moment later rose up behind her shoulder. When they approached for a hug, she pushed them away with glassy eyes. Her eyes began to shed tears, while the bodies of the people she had been born from shed blood, her own blood, which she so craved. Which she drank so greedily later, not looking at the dead, terrified eyes. She sat down in the corner of the hallway and put a finger stained with blood to her mouth. What had she felt after the murder of her parents? Despite all her eagerness and greed, the encounter with blood had truly broken her heart. Sharp tears ripped through her eyes. The word "sorry" crashed against thoughts that were too cruel as it fell. The suffering, tinged with guilt and self-worthlessness, returned. Weeping, she lay on the ground, but to her great surprise, something prevented her from doing so. White wings, large and feathery. She ran to a large, gold-framed mirror and looked at herself. Black hair, porcelain skin, white, torn dress and wings—the entire image was stained with blood that flowed from her eyes. She hid her horrifying face in her bony hands and fell to her knees before her parents' bodies. Hugging and kissing them, she screamed. She screamed that she wanted to go back, that she'd rather pull a train of misfortune than be there and destroy the remains of herself she had, even in her imagination.
"Is that what you wanted?" a familiar voice sounded. With eyes still full of bloody tears, she looked at him. Every gesture she made contradicted him, every breath she cried out for help, but against all odds, she answered:
"Yes, exactly that.
I will rise up there;
Above life;
Above death;
I will conquer the fear of each day;
Dancing with angels;
I will escape from your lies;
From your cruelty;
I will not let my wings be torn apart anymore...
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