Morago
Morago paused from the long run at the crest of a small rise. Nearly spent, the body the demon inhabited raised its head above the tall grass and looked toward the valley. The animal panted and coughed, in need of water and rest. Still a day’s run from its destination, the sight and scent of the human settlement hung foul in the air and burned the animal’s nose. His whiskered maw curled in disgust as the coyote turned and slunk away, parallel to the town at the base of the mountains. Soon, they would arrive at the second location burned into Morago’s consciousness at the moment of the twyning.
Wise enough to know its present form could not move unnoticed in the city, the animal perked its ears and moved south toward a rocky outcrop. Nose to the ground, the scents were alive and led Morago to a nest of rattlers. The warning rattle sent the demons tittering in Morago’s mind.
Yes.
Another step forward and searing pain rocked the coyote as envenomed fangs sunk deep into its snout. With a yelp, the coyote fell, and a diamondback slithered away from its den with new purpose.
In the deep summer grass, near the edge of the road, the snake coiled.
Wait.
This far from the human settlement, traffic appeared sporadic.
Patience.
Morago required a particular type of vessel. A lone traveler, in good physical condition, would be the choice. Patience, a necessity.
A wheeled conveyance passed his hiding spot. A family. Then another wagon, this one populated by a group of women. The snake’s tail rattled in frustration. Any human will do. Morago silenced his demonic horde with a hiss. He refused to ride, unnoticed, behind the eyes of these mewling creatures. Not this time. Only a specific type of body would be acceptable.
A young male with an older female approached his hiding spot. A chorus went up from the demon horde. Take them now. But Morago chose to wait. A better choice approached.
A lone man on a horse, head down, almost asleep in the saddle. With no more than a thought, Morago jumped from the snake to the man. The man's head came up violently, knocking the hat from his head.
One of Morago’s demons took control of the animal, and their pace quickened.
Traffic increased as they drew closer to town. They had been about to pass the wagon ahead when the woman's bitter hatred brushed against Morago’s mind. Once she caught the demon’s attention, the resentful loathing that radiated from her aura filled his blackened soul with glee. Morago slowed his pace and remained behind the wagon. He absorbed her rancor with each breath, her venom titillated his soul. Morago followed the woman into town. When the wagon stopped, Morago halted across the road from the woman and observed her with baleful eyes.
The young man unloaded the trunks and helped the woman from the vehicle. As soon as she stood on the boardwalk, the man climbed back into his seat and shook the reins.
The hate-filled female glared from the walkway at the man in the retreating wagon. Disgust, malignant with vindictive thoughts, and self-absorption flowed from her self-righteous rage.
Morago’s soul inhaled deeply and reveled in her hatred. She was ripe with loathing, through and through—like old wood filled with worm, rank and ready to burst wide with rot.
A man at the boarding house opened the door and spoke to her. Immediately, her countenance changed. She became a poor old woman, betrayed by those she’d spent her life serving. Abandoned by the ones she trusted the most. Pitifully, she begged for a room.
Morago snickered and noted the house she entered. After she went inside, the horse and rider moved ahead with one mind, ever forward, toward the beacon.
Two wagons ahead of Morago, the young man who had helped the bitter woman caught his attention. The lad had only thoughts of a wife and young daughter who waited for his safe return. When the wagon stopped beside a livery, Morago and the horse turned right, off the diagonal and onto a residential street. The beacon lay just up ahead.
The horde gibbered in Morago’s mind, filled with excitement as they moved closer to the landmark. The child would not be there, of course. Too much time had passed since the twyning. But the search must begin somewhere, and the beacon where the prophecy freed him might offer a clue.
Horse and man stopped in the road before a house with a large 'H' on the door. The man’s bloodshot gaze rose to the second-floor window. The pair sat motionless for quite some time.
With a thought from the master, the horse moved toward the house, along the narrow side, and into the back yard. No longer did he feel a stranger’s eyes upon him.
Morago turned to contemplate the empty building while his horde chattered maniacally inside his head.
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