It was a simple exorcism. If there is such thing. Demon inside child, get demon from inside child. Unsurprising and undemanding work. Usually demons that possess children are the lowest of the low. As far as possessions go, taking a child is the very literal bottom of evil. Children are simply easy prey. The ethereal is still bonding with the corporeal and the soul still has a long way to go until it finds definitive grip to its biological dwelling. Until the bonding is final, the physical body knows no real master and the flesh obeys to the spirit that exerts the strongest hold over synapses and muscles. If we strip the body from the alchemy of life it is just another machine. It makes no difference that it’s built from living tissue. At the end of the day it will always respond better to the most experienced and capable operator. Sadly, demons are always much more experienced than freshly incarnated young souls.
Yes, the child died.
It wasn’t my fault, I know it. I truly know it, but that’s not how I feel it. It’s pointless now to say I should’ve immediately recognized the signs the instant I laid eyes on the child. The signs of inevitable failure. The signs of doomed effort. The signs of a tainted soul.
There weren’t two conflicting souls inside that small body, battling for control. The child was not possessed; it was born a demon.
It rarely happens.
It should never happen.
I did what I must every time the prospects of favorable odds are thwarted.
No demon can be allowed to be born anew into this world, washed of sins.
Not while I’m one of the gatekeepers.
It wasn’t a child, but a machine made broken.
It had to be unmade.
It fell upon me the burden of unmaking it.
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