As humans slumbered in their beds, the Nightwalker prowled the nocturnal dark. Layers of steel covered his humanoid form as dagger claws protruded from his hands. And behind a mask concealing his face hid angelic and gentle features. No human could sense his presence. He remained invisible at all times and he found wayward demons worthy preys.
Cat-like he hunted; the malevolent energy lured him with a scent only he can pick up. And once he spotted the demonic entity, he pounced from behind to deliver a death swipe. Yet one night in his hunting ground in the human world, a shape perched itself in a clock tower above him.
That dark shape scanned the horizon, as if on the lookout for a night time treat. Neoma, as she called herself sniffed the midnight breeze with manic relish. She didn’t remember how she came into this world, but during her first awakening a girl mourned the death of her friend. And every day the same sorrow, anguish, guilt and regrets around her gave her unsurpassed strength.
Neoma caught glimpse of the old alleyway where she lived as a scared child. Now, her wings for arms took her to the sky as her feet boasted raptorial talons. And the recent feed of anguish gave her an unexplained urge for blood. Her claws screamed for human flesh and her fangs itched to tear limbs. Yes, she must kill to satisfy the savagery squinting inside her like a reptilian hatchling.
And she saw it.
From the shadows, a black dog sprang. It looked up at the clock tower where Neoma sat as if taunting her to chase it.
“It saw me,” she thought. And in a wing-beat she went airborne, diving towards the animal to investigate. The dog rushed forward at Neoma still on its tail.
And it disappeared.
Neoma scanned the vicinity in search of the animal before a familiar scent hits her nose. The scent brought back memories of her first awakening when she lived as a child searching for a place in the world. And with her nose in the lead, she sniffed her way to find the source. It leads to a house across the street with unlocked gates and opened doors. Neoma stepped in to investigate.
“I was expecting you tonight,” said the voice of a girl somewhere in the shadows.
“So you know I exist,” Neoma replied.
“Indeed, for I could feel you…”
“And you must know what I could do,” Neoma sneered, her claws outstretched. She touched a rose in a vase and it shriveled.
“You are frightening, but you can’t touch me.”
“What made you so sure?”
The owner of the voice stepped into the light. She got almond eyes and a heart-shaped face, the same as Neoma’s.
“YOU! ” Neoma growled.
“I’m you, and you are me…”
The girl flashed a red stone suspended in a chain. It sparked and visions flashed in the back of Neoma’s mind. She saw the girl sneaking into an old hilltop shrine, to swipe the red stone from the statue of a woman with a child. The vision faded and a different scene unfolded. This time the girl argued with her friend as she dangled the red stone from her wrist.
“I need this to pass the exam,” the girl nagged.
“But…”
“The stone will clear my mind of troubles and doubts; it will keep me focussed.”
“But stealing is stealing, grow up and return the stone!”
And the little argument sinks into a noisy word fight.
“FINE, I DON’T NEED YOU,” she screamed after the exchanges of hurtful words. And an out of control-vehicle crashes into the scene, hitting the girl’s friend and flinging her away. The view shifted again, from the sleepy suburbs to a bleak necropolis. The crosses, tombstones, and marble angels sent chills to Neoma’s spine. Not too far away from her, the girl knelt at the grave of her friend, guilt and regrets etched on her face.
Why did we fight,” she sobbed, “and the last thing you heard from me is a scream.”
And the stone in her hand glowed as if reacting to the anguish of its owner. The girl wept on, oblivious to the shape forming from the rays of the stone. The shape sharpened into an undeniable image of a girl Neoma knew too well.
“No,” she screamed, unable to watch her birth to the world. And everything faded back into the dark interior of the girl’s house. Neoma backed away a few steps from that girl who so resembled her. Her smile of self-forgiveness, acceptance, and atonement proved too painful to bear. So much so that Neoma stretches a claw to dispatch her.
“You will never harm her,” said a voice, coming from the black dog emerging behind the girl.
You planned this all along,” Neoma choked at the animal. When she refused to back away, a growl from the dog sent her flying across the room.
Neoma shriveled into ashes. The wind blew, disposing her remains and scattering it into the night sky.
“Thank you for tipping me about her,” said the girl to the black dog, now transformed back to the form of the Nightwalker, “when I sensed her presence, I began to re-examine my conscience. What will my friend say if she sees me like this? So I decided to face my demons and free myself.”
“Self-redemption proves to be a potent weapon Neoma,” the Nightwalker replied.
And you said you hunted demons…”
The reply came in the form of a vision where a man in the brink of death due to a demonic attack pleaded the red stone to send a savior. And from the rays of the stone the Nightwalker emerged.
Seconds later, the Nightwalker disappeared, leaving Neoma with the red stone she planned to return the next day.