It took place at night under the darkness of a new moon. Dinner had been eaten hours prior, and with school the next day, an early night was much needed. The creaking of the black-pointed metal gate into the front garden was soft. A clear path led to the front door. First, a jiggle of the knob. Then a scratching of the lock's inner bolts. "Hurry up. And be quieter, the whole city can hear you." Three cloaked in black individuals, all crouched one behind the other. With the last being the lookout, turned away from the door. "Move out the way." The middle man, seeming to be the leader of this group, moved to take point, closing his eyes, whispering upwards. "God of laughter and fun, grant me the strength to crush my foes and carry out your plans." Like softened butter, the leader took hold of the knob, gripping and crushing it. Having broken the lock, the three pushed forward into the dimly lit house.
From the foyer inwards, only single stick candles guided the way. "You know what to do, so let's get it done." At first glance, they played it like thieves. Grabbing random items that had a semblance of value, but that wasn't their mission. "Ok. That's enough." The leader whispered to the two, "Stage two is a go." Leaving their partially filled woolen sacks by the entrance, the men began to make their way upstairs. Peaking into rooms. Swiftly gliding down halls. "Found them!" One of the men shouted, mouth barely opening enough for it to be considered loud. The leader looked at the two and repeated the plan. "Remember, take the older one, and kill the brother. And make sure the older one sees."
"It went off without a single hitch." There were no tears on the writer's face, only a look of sadness. All that Giel could manage was a simple "oh." This is the type of person The Child god is. A god that causes pain and suffering purely for its own amusement.
Mikha'ell tried to fight back that night, but in his eyes, that just made it worse. With a single scream, he awoke Lumen. And I guess as a kid who only played mediators, he had a different perception of life.
Mikha'el wiggled and writhed, trying to escape two of the masked men's grasp as they held him up. The third, having approached the scared little boy, whispered to his ear, "Shush now…" As if to act comforting, the man slid onto the side of the bed, reaching his arm around Lumen in a malevolent way. "Now..now don't cry. We are here to bring you a gift." Reaching into his satchel, the man pulled out a rusted crescent-curved knife. Edges notched, for the only purpose of causing pain. "A knife?" Lumen's voice quaked.
Mikha'el's tears felt warm to the touch. It played in slow motion. The rusted knife crossed Lumen's face, scoring his cheek. Lumen tried to cry out, but once again was shushed. "Please, Lumen, you have to be quiet, unless you want to share your gift with your brother too." The man continued in slow, deliberate efforts, slicing open the little boy's skin. "See the gift— your gift isn't a knife. It's something much better. You, my special boy, will be a sacrifice. One that will please—" A creak of the hallway's wooden floor board interrupted the man, leaving an abrupt silence in its wake. "Mo—"
Quickly, with no hesitation, the blade crossed Lumen's throat. Blood sprayed from his throat, just in time for the room's door to push open. "Lumen! Mikha'el!" The two parents cried out in synchronization. "Fuck Stel, do it!" one of the ones holding Mikha'el back said. The words spun from his mouth like a smooth liqueur, as he dropped Mikha'el to the floor. "Fallen shadows, and a mystic absence. God of trickery, remove our presence in the quickest of fashion." The man called Stel said, locking eyes with his fellow compatriots. As if a void was placed in Mikha'el's room, a vacuum sucked the men inwards, wrapping the air and shadows around them.