Omniscient

• Chelsea Finn, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2022

He glanced up at Damien, a concerned glint formed in his blissfully white eyes, returning his attention to the child, he placed a now empty bottle on the desk. Dipping his head downwards, he closed his eyes whilst the child curled a hand around his finger. The touch was, delicate and warm. He huffed softly as he settled in his chair, leaning back holding Trales close… He would grin at the child, his pointed teeth gleaming as he gave a small snort of laughter. Gently, he wrapped the child in the remains of the blanket, the same as the pennante he wore on his chest. He seemed startling content, no longer gazing at the ceiling or getting lost in his thoughts… Damien optimistically glanced between the child and Omniscient, before tenderly saying, “this will be good for you”. Omniscient studied the child once again, the slightest of smiles upon his lips. “Perhaps… No matter how time ages him, he will be extraordinary…” He reached over his desk, his chair gave a reluctant creak as he grasped a book proceeding to open it, its cover a simple grey, with a strange writing upon the spine. Clearing his voice, he kicked his feet up on the desk, beginning to read out loud to Trales. Idly grooming his antennae, he read, occasionally glancing at the baby for a reaction, but the child was fast asleep… He continued to read, although softer. “I wish Tactical could be here…” Trales yawned, and immediately he replied in an agreeing tone, “oh, yes...”. He seemed hardly uncomfortable in his gleaming armor, yet, he refused to move in case of waking the baby. Damien grew bored, as he usually did, repeatedly tapping the end of Omniscient desk with the tip of a pen. Omniscient shot a glare and a rumbling growl Damien’s way. Damien sighed, lowering himself to the ground. Omniscience's scowl faded as he returned his stare to Trales, his gaze softening as he closed the book. Damien peered up at Omniscient from the edge of the desk poking his tongue at him, before turning away, holding in the laugh lurking under his breath. Omniscient shook his head, though the motion lacked any heat of true disapproval. He stood slowly; the black mist that clung to his form intensified as it formed around his boots… Watching a crib rise from the plume of impenetrable darkness, carved from bone and stardust, he placed the baby within the crib. The silken blanket crept over the bars engraved with ancient tomes and lost words, Omniscient glanced at the crib then the child, “the scars you will have, will have quite the story…”