The Chosen by Lee Borromeo

Chapter Three

Ranjee was taken aback by the sudden change. He stood there frozen, confused. It was Lance who attacked. Flame shot from his outstretched arm; not much, just enough to send a small fireball towards Patrick, or Salamangka, or whoever he was.

Patrick sidestepped, his cloak swirling around him like an inky blackness. The wind had picked up; it seemed to be that they were in a middle of a whirlwind, leaves flying around them. Daniel was now sitting up, just staring at the spectacle.

In his right hand, Patrick held a staff, wooden yet with silver filigrees all over it. He suddenly plunged it into the ground, and it stayed there, upright, like some ancient totem pole. He started to run towards Lance, holding something that shimmered in the moonlight.

The sword, Daniel thought.

One moment, Lance was standing; the next, he was kneeling, trying to hold his intestines in place as his abdomen was sliced open. He was screaming, calling to God and his parents.

Patrick was now at the opposite end of the tree-park, his sword now crimson, not silver.

Ranjee had been rooted on the spot until now. When he saw Lance go down, he burst into action, trying to run away.

<You're not the only one with friends. >

A tall teenager blocked Ranjee's path. He, too, was dressed in black: simple turtle neck sweater, black jeans and boots, with a long trench coat. He had a circular medallion around his neck and a large silver buckle for his belt. He simply stood there, taller than Ranjee, thin but somehow menacing.

Ranjee corkscrewed his face, sending a telekinetic punch towards the tall one. The guy didn't even budge.

"He's known as Blackshadow."

By this time, Ranjee couldn't speak. Blackshadow's whole right arm had gone through his chest, the sleeve of his coat dripping with Ranjee's blood, and pieces of his heart and lungs. He opened his hand, and clenched it again. He withdrew his arm, so fast that Ranjee was still standing, dead but not yet dead, making gurgling sounds as his lungs tried to work, as the remains of his heart tired to beat.
As Ranjee dropped to the ground, Blackshadow started murmuring. Daniel could hear parts of what he was saying.

Dominus Vobiscum. Daniel thought through a haze of pain. Last Rites.

Lance was still mewling in pain. He had not quite succeeded in keeping his insides together; they were partly on the ground, glistening like drowning fish.
Patrick walked towards him, as did Blackshadow.

Daniel could hear Lance sobbing. "Mommy... ang sakit... ayaw kong mamatay," he kept on repeating to himself.

Patrick spoke. "You and Ranjee have to die."

Lance started crying even louder, almost whining like a dog.

"Isn't the probability sealed with Ranjee dead," Blackshadow intoned the question as if they were talking about a class project.

"We have to be sure, David." Patrick knelt by Lance's side, and held his hand. His other hand swept through Lance's hair. "Shhhh. You will be in a better place. And so will the world be," Patrick whispered to the dying boy, his tone now tender, not at all the emotionless voice Daniel had heard before. Lance kept on crying for a few more minutes, and then fell silent, staring at the sliver moon. Patrick closed his eyes.

"No loose ends," Patrick sighed heavily, tired as no one Daniel ever heard one could be. Patrick stood up, and walked over to Ranjee's body. Electricity began to arc between his hands. Daniel smelled ozone, and his hair stood on end. Blackshadow backed off, giving Patrick enough room. There was a flash of light, and then there was nothing left of Ranjee, except a burnt spot on the ground; not even the leaves around him were singed. The wind died down. Patrick looked at Daniel.

"And now, for you."

Daniel was terrified. Oh, God, They're gonna kill me, too, he thought, but he was still in too much pain to even budge from his sitting position.

<We won't kill you. You have another road to follow. >

He felt Patrick's hand touch his face, and felt an incredibly soothing warmth. He felt his nose reset, the cartilage healing, his hurts disappearing.

<I hope you never hate us for it. You'll never live a normal life again. >

Daniel did the only thing he could do at that point; he blacked out.

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