My name was Olaf—or at least, that was how it used to be. For centuries, I was torn apart in the fires of the Eighth Gate. And now, by some twisted cosmic irony, the soul of a mass murderer resides in the fragile body of a eighteen -year-old boy named Andrei. My new father and grandfather were supposedly great heroes. What a hilarious tragedy.
Three months have passed since my arrival at Lord Albert's orphanage. I played my part perfectly. I learned their names, feigned innocence, and blended in. The other children dreamed of awakening their magic and becoming heroes. As for me, my only dream was to stay off heaven's radar so I wouldn't be sent back to Hell.
But my nights were far from peaceful. Every time I closed my eyes, a dark, suffocating presence would invade my mind, whispering in an ancient, booming language I couldn't understand. The immense pressure of that voice filled me with a primal dread. I didn't taste a single night free of terror until Sister Olit noticed my exhaustion and cast a gentle sleep spell on me.
The next morning, the day began like any other: feeding the animals, tending the crops, and sitting under the warm sunlight. I kept to myself, watching the others from a distance. I despised children, but the gentle breeze made the dull farm life almost bearable.
"Olo! Stop right there! Don't go near the bull!" Nash suddenly screamed.
I snapped out of my thoughts. Little Olo had wandered into the pasture, and the massive, ill-tempered bull was already stamping its hooves against the dirt, its dark eyes locked on the boy. Involuntarily, I ran toward the child.
"Nash, give me your red coat! Quickly!" I shouted as I sprinted toward the fence.
Without thinking, Nash took off his coat, and with a swift motion, used his magic to toss it through the air toward me. I caught the coat mid-air and vaulted over the wooden fence.
The bull lowered its horns and charged at Olo. I didn't have the strength to fight the beast, but I had the cunning harvested from a lifetime on the streets. I threw myself between Olo and the monster, tossing the bright red coat directly over the bull's head. The massive animal was blinded and disoriented, thrashing wildly. I shoved Olo to the ground, but a stray kick from the panicked beast caught my shoulder, sending me tumbling into the dirt.
The bull shook off the coat and turned its fury toward me. I braced for the blow, but it never came.
A blinding bolt of lightning struck from the clear sky, hitting the bull and bringing the colossal beast to its knees. I gasped for air and looked up to see Lord Albert, the master of the orphanage, standing with his hand outstretched, his eyes crackling with residual electricity.
"That was close," he muttered, stepping toward us. "Andrei! Are you hurt?"
At that moment, my fear began to fade. I was slightly hurt, but Albert extended his hand to help me up, saying, "Thank God you weren't harmed."
Later that evening, the dining hall was bustling with an unusual feast.
"Look! Rice and roasted meat!" Dave cheered joyfully.
"Yes," Sister Olit smiled warmly, placing her hand on my shoulder. "Because today, we have a real hero among us... Andrei."
"Me? A hero?" I asked, looking down at my plate. Inside, my stomach churned. Me. A butcher of a hundred children. A hero to them. The irony tasted like ash in my mouth.
"If not for your quick thinking, Olo would have been crushed," Olit insisted. The children added as they ate greedily, "You deserve the highest praise; we would have been too scared to face the bull."
"And what about me?" Lord Albert interrupted with a smirk as he entered the room. "If not for my lightning, you wouldn't be eating this well."
"Oh, please, Master Albert. Protecting us is your duty," Sister Olit joked, making the children laugh.
Albert laughed, pulling a small box from his coat. "Fair enough. But I do have a reward for our brave boy. Your favorite cake, Andrei."
"Thank you, Lord Albert," I said with a bright, grateful smile as I took a slice. It was overly sweet, to the point of nausea, but I ate it. I played the role of the hero.
Lying in bed that night, staring at the wooden ceiling, I whispered to myself, "What a strange feeling... playing the hero."
"Do you truly believe that, boy?" a voice boomed in the darkness of my room.
I froze. The blood in my veins turned to ice. "That voice... It's you. The one from my dreams."
The shadows in the corner of the room twisted and materialized into a massive, spectral sword, bound tightly by glowing, ethereal chains. The aura it exuded was so dark and overwhelming that my soul instinctively wanted to tear its way out of my body and flee.
"Do you feel fear?" the sword mocked, its voice echoing in my mind. "It is only natural. Humans always crave praise, blinding themselves with arrogance until they inevitably fall."
"What do you want?" I demanded, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
"To remind you of your truth," the entity hissed. "Do you think playing family in this fragile body changes you? I know the darkness you carry. I know the centuries you burned. You cannot escape your sins, Olaf."
My breath hitched. "How do you know that name?"
"I am bound to the soul that houses me. I told the previous owner of this body that his kindness would one day be replaced by an evil strong enough to bear me. Welcome to your true purpose."
"Forget it," I scoffed, regaining my composure. "I have no intention of wielding some cursed sword. I am living a quiet life. And I will never return to the flames."
"We shall see," the sword whispered, fading back into the shadows. "Wake up, little hero. Your peaceful life is already burning."
"Andrei! Wake up!"
My eyes snapped open. The ground was shaking. Explosions echoed from outside the orphanage.
Lord Albert's voice roared above the chaos. "Olit! Take the children to the woods! Run! I will hold it off!"
"Andrei, get up!" Sister Olit burst into the room, her face pale with terror. "We have to leave now!"
"What is happening?" Dave cried, rubbing his eyes.
"No time to explain! Move!" I shouted, dropping my childish act for a second.
We scrambled out the back gate. I glanced over my shoulder and saw it—a massive, terrifying monster tearing the orphanage apart. Lord Albert stood before it, his body crackling with intense lightning.
"Come and get me, you ugly bastard!" Albert roared.
The beast swung a boulder-sized fist. Albert vanished in a flash of light, reappearing above the creature and driving a devastating bolt of lightning straight through its skull. The monster exploded into ash and gore.
Albert landed heavily, panting. But before he could catch his breath, the sound of a slow, mocking applause cut through the smoke.
A tall man in an elegant suit stepped out of the shadows, smiling pleasantly. "Bravo, Lord Albert. You handled my pet quite well."
"Who are you?" Albert growled, lightning sparking from his fingers.
"Does it matter? The real question is: are you just a lowly caretaker, or are you the guardian of the great secret entrusted to you by the King?"
Albert didn't hesitate. He lunged at the man with blinding speed.
The stranger dodged the blow with zero effort. "Careful. You almost singed my coat," he sighed. "You are fast, old man. But shouldn't you be worried about the children? They are running straight into my trap."
"No!" Albert yelled, turning toward the woods. "Leave them! Your fight is with me!"
"My orders were to eliminate you and everyone connected to you," the man smiled coldly. He snapped his fingers, and from the ground beneath Albert, skeletal hands erupted, gripping his legs and pinning him to the earth.
Meanwhile, we were running blindly through the dark woods. My lungs burned, but Sister Olit held my hand in an iron grip, dragging me forward.
"Keep running, children! We're almost at the safe hut!" she panted, looking at us with a reassuring, brave smile. "Lord Albert will defeat the monster. Everything will be—"
Schlick.
The sound was sickeningly wet and abrupt.
The warm hand holding mine suddenly went limp. I stopped, confused. I looked up.
Sister Olit was still standing, but her head was gone.
For a terrifying, silent fraction of a second, her decapitated body simply swayed in the moonlight. Then, a fountain of blood erupted from her neck, splashing across my face and clothes as her body collapsed heavily onto the grass.
The children's screams died in their throats. From the pitch-black darkness of the trees, a massive, grotesque monster stepped out. Its enormous, blood-soaked claws gleamed in the moonlight as it casually crushed her severed head beneath its foot.
Hell hadn't stayed behind the Eighth Gate. It had followed me here.