What Have I Done?

(Warning, violence.)

Naraal fell to his knees, his head bowed, a tear sliding down his cheek. What had he become? 

He had gone along with Azrazor because he knew him to be his rightful King, the best for Umbar and it's people. He knew Azrazor was the one he had hoped for all his life.

But Azrazor said Lord Sauron demanded sacrifice. And so he had stood beside him at that barren alter of grey stone, as he slew man after man of the prisoners. 

And then the test. Would he pledge himself to Sauron? Now his people had long served the Dark Lord, it was nothing new nor strange. But it WAS  personal. He, pledged to Sauron forever?

And there was another issue. What if Sauron asked him to slay Azrazor? Unlikely as it seemed, that Lord was capricious. One could never be certain what he would demand.

"I serve Azrazor first," he had said. And the sky rent with lightning. Azrazor had spoken for him, spoken with Sauron himself. "A test," he had announced.

Azrazor placed the knife of sacrifice in his hand, then dragged forward a young girl, no more than eight years of age. 

"Offer her to Sauron," he had ordered.

Naraal looked at her face. She was pale, her eyes shadowed, but she was a child...a young and lively child under normal circumstances. 

"Cut out her heart," Azrazor ordered.

He hesitated, but only for an instant. She was dead anyway. There was no escape. The least he could do for her was give her a swift , clean end.

He ran the blade across her throat, severing the artery. She was unconscious before he cut out her heart.

"Now eat it," ordered Azrazor.

And he did.

And now, when he was finally alone in the wilds for a short time, he was on his knees sobbing, and vomiting. 

He had not signed up to murder children. But it was too late now, he thought. He had damned himself. There was no turning back.