Winds howled, a twist of the wings and the world blurred as the gentle touch of the heavens caressed the crimson scales of one that dominates, one that rules through fear and awe, one that—. The world shook and cracked, only to shatter unto countless pieces.

“Kain! Kain! Wake up” urged a wiry boy “Kain!”.

The red haired boy, not a ginger hew, true red. A dark crimson that reminds one of violence, of terror, of blood and chaos.

“Ugh, Andy… quiet down” mumbled the red haired boy.

“Don’t ‘quiet down’ me Kain. Ma’am Katelyn is doing the rounds today” relayed the short boy with fear apparent upon his countenance.

With new found haste the red haired boy scrambled. Coming off the thread bare cot, his height caused his left foot to skid across the wall of the cramped room. Splinters flew as Kain met the wall. Both children visibly paled as dread filled their faces.

“Andrew my good friend, the termites here are something fierce” stated Kain stoically.

Veins bulged on Andrew’s forehead, his friend had an uncanny gift in drawing the typically subdued boy’s ire.

“Kain, I believe that wood chip between your nail would please said termites immensely” retorted the boy.

The clearing of throat drew the two youths to the now open door of the clean, but bare room. In its arch stood Ettrepha herself, surely today they shall rejoin the cycle.

“The second bells have rung, Andrew to the kitchen, help the girls serve the meals” the wraith announced succinctly.

And with a twitch of the brow she gazed upon the red haired youth “Kain”, her eyes scanned the chipped wall “By Aslena” she signed “At the very least you will be the knights’ problem in three years. You will fit well with those brutes”. Regaining her demeanor the priestess uttered “To the stables, double duty”, the three stared at each other, the air thick with tension akin to duelists taking measure of one another “Now you rascals!” the wraith screeched.

“Yes Ma’am Katelyn” replied the youths straitening like boards.

The high priestess of Aslena walked away, leaving the two in the dim stillness as the old woman’s footsteps strayed afar. Suddenly the steps stopped, fearing the return of the wraith the youths broke into action cleaning their shared room before rushing to one another’s respective tasks.

With purpose Kain strode across the temple halls of the orphanage. Plain, that was the only way one could describe the low ceiling wooden hallways, plain but clean. Ha, a far cry from the vaulted marble halls of the knight wing and the exquisite and peaceful abodes of the high priestesses thought Kain. Passing by fellow orphans the red hair forged forward, the children shrinking in his wake. One would think I bite he chuckled, this achieved nothing but to make him more intimidating. How a ten year old could be intimidating was beyond Kain, ignoring the fact that few of his age was as tall and built as he, and even fewer could tackle a raged bull to the ground with ones bare hands at the tender age of eight.

Walking out of the squat building Kain squinted against the morning rays, the common grounds a sprawling court of greens with patches of colors. I see that the old gardener is as obsessive as ever, the perfectly trimmed grounds spread before him. To his left at the common’s edge was the lower temple, for the masses, for commoners. Before him, across the manicured grounds, lay the priestess halls. Enjoying the crisp morning air the morning dew did little to lift his mood, for he much preferred the soft caress of the noon sun. Of course the stable is attached to the orphanage Kain turned to his right, taking sight of the knight, high priestess, and the grand cathedral upon the elevated grounds into the distance. They so adore their stallions, but woe are they to smell their shit the youth sneered internally. Turning upon his heels the crimson child walked towards the stables. Placing a hand on the well-polished door the youth paused for a moment It still irks me that the stable is better housed than the orphan wing shaking such thoughts aside, Kain entered the stable.

The youth greeted the man before him “Greetings Master Grosslow”.

“Greetings, Lambert awaits you” said the hulk of a man whilst pointing his cane, returning his attention to the squire and runner about him in short order.

Pragmatic as ever. Kain made for Grosslow’s direction, meeting the stable hand in shortly thereafter “M’ning Lambert”.

“N’aw, be quite a bad one” replied the raven haired teen, a poignant chin towards an unmoving charger “Doran wants Socks here removed, figured you be the easiest way”.

Kain massaged the bridge of his nose in exasperation “Firstly Lambert, the last time someone caught you addressing to Master Grosslow as such you received five lashes. And by the ten, who names a charger Socks”.

“Aye, and first time you did so the whip shredded straight across your back” reposted the lanky teen.

Got me there winced the youth. Kain looked upon the horse, a knotted rope winding the poor animal to allow for easy grip.

Kneeling next to the fallen charger the crimson child reached out, heaving the creature with ease.

“Stupid healer forgot to remove the arrow head” said Lambert as he guided the red haired youth “Died last night after a terrible fever, was moaning like a…”.

The duo halted as the stable master glared holes through the teen.

“Out back, empty cart” said the middle aged man, favoring his braided beard.

Laying the deceased horse into the cart, the youth shot at the teen “I swear, you’re out to have us swing”.

The two returned to the stable, going through the motions doing the mundane choirs. Thrice rang, the bells tolled. The stable hands adjourned, Kain persisted, serving his extra hour as punishment even through breaks.

Coming out the baths towards the dining hall the crimson youth met with another, as if the heavens ordained a doppelganger, a blonde doppelganger.

“You look worse for wares, Andy told me about the unfortunate morning. Grabbed some food for you” the blonde youth handed over a platter with a loaf of bread, some cheese and a few strips of smoked pork.

“Thanks Nichol” replied Kain accepting the proposed platter.

“Please, we look like siblings, might as well act the part”. The two conversed as the red haired boy ate.

Chewing upon the final morsel “So Nic, still going to buy Mely that dress” smirked Kain, evil dripping with every syllable “Should go jut the two of, she might be more appreciative”.

The blonde turned bright red, his fair complexion doing little to hide his embarrassment. At that moment Andrew and two girls approached the duo.

“Oh dear, are you well Nichol” graced the brunet girl, her voice soothing and serene to the soul.

The slightly shorter red hair, a mundane red, smiled matching the evil of her unnatural red haired compatriot “Yes Nic, is all well? Didn’t you want to buy something in the lower city. ‘It’s a surprise’, you said. I’m sure Melissa will love to see”.

Picking up where his partner in crime left off “Indeed Jannet, I am sure Mely will be most amazed. Oh, what is a maiden in glee to do” said Kain.

The blonde turned into a deeper shade of red, Melissa’s confused non-response doing little to salvage the cornered youth’s dignity. And so the group set forth, passing through the gates of the temple of Aslena which sat the edge of the noble districts.

The posse wandered through the streets, bordering with the nobles created a haven for freemen merchants aiming to lighten the purse of all from the more miser noblemen to the well fared of the commoners. A courier ran headlong into Kain Hectic. Bloody loud as well the boy gathered himself, catching the eye of the human wall. He visibly paled, draining blood making him appear as a corpse within bright finery, dominated by blue and green.

“I beg your pardon Master, I presume you search for the Masters Breentlot. They are likely within Knight Grounds sparing at this time” warmed Nichol.

The noble born found himself, straightening his doublet before responding to the much taller boy of similar age with renewed pomp and circumstance.

“Verily boy, I bid you thanks and good day” uttered the courier before prancing away.

Really, we look alike yet our treatment is like night and day thought the crimson youth.

“Talking of which, does Sagard still hold you in contempt Kain?” asked Jannet.

“That’s Master Breentlot, Jannet” said Andrew softly.

Andy, Andy, all these lessons in etiquette is getting to you.

“Bah, likely just jealously. He knows that you will manhandle him once you join the Order” said the blonde.

“Oho, and say, who do you plan to manhandle once you join the knights in a ten-day” grinned the crimson devil with a knowing look to the brunet.

The red haired second pounced, aiding the red demon in tormenting their prize. With renewed vigor the group weaved through the crowds of animated merchants and the populace, dodging stalls and rounding around shops and offices in their stroll to the lower city. Today was the third day, Aslena’s day, the day of light. It was the day of rest for all those who seek the warmth of her bosom.

Exiting the bustle of the markets, the group walked amidst the tasteful tiled roofs of the freemen. The houses and establishments becoming barer and more packed as they neared the lower city. Pausing to aid a toppled cart, the youths crossed the threshold to the lower city, skewered grilled meat in hand. We should stay out of the back alleys here, I doubt even I can endure a cudgel to the cranium. So they walked and laughed, jovial as only those unscathed by the tribulations of life could afford. Well past noon the little posse arrived upon the steps of a quaint double story establishment. Must be the seamstress Nic was on about. A young woman greeted the youths, her dull yellow one piece dress played by the midafternoon breeze, and bade them enter. Upon arriving unto a modest waiting room, as evident by the padded chairs and the clients’ strewn about awaiting attending. Melissa’s brow frowned in confusion over the realization of where they found themselves. However before she could gather her wits, the blonde youth that had managed to make himself scarce bounded down the stairs in short order, item in hand. The elegant gown swayed serenely within the blonde’s grasp, softly he held the garment, caring for the frilly laces expertly lain about.

“Mely, you mentioned that you wanted a new dress for the festivals. I—” the blonde youth was cut short as the brunet’s soft lips found his, a single tear streaming from joy. They gazed unto one another, lost within the cosmos that were their eyes. Slowly the young couple to be turned pink, then a bright red as they took in the spectators “Mel...” the young woman bolted out the abode before the boy could finish his utterance.

Silence clawed upon the room, determine to prize it unto its clasped appendages.

“Nic your wits about you!” shouted Kain “this is no place for a lone flustered girl to wander alone. No offence intended my ladies”

The young red hair hastened after his chastened friend, the other trio shortly behind with Jannet pulling at the blank faced blonde.

The bells tolled, then another, and by the third consequent tolling the youths collapse by the mouth of the umpteenth alleyway. This was the latest venue their frantic search had led them, another lead that vanished into thin air. Three hours they searched the streets. Three hours they harried passersby. Three hours they skulked the dark alleys and its denizens that glared upon them like fresh meat cast unto rabid dogs. Whatever vestige of hope they dared to hold onto slipping through their fingers as an apparition of Saresis himself. None of the four met eyes, afraid that such an act shall confirm the worst that they all thought but denied fervently. Just as the abyss slithered unto the defeated youths’ psyche, out the umbral depth of the alley shot a wailing banshee. The youths beamed, it would appear as if Aslena smiled upon them this day. The brunet charged the red hair, both girls falling to the ground as Melissa bawled her eyes out. And as if by a cruel twist of fate, they emerged from the dark, seven hell spawns, squashing the newfound joy to nothingness.

Walking out the alley the apparent leader of the hell spawns uttered “Well, well. By Ithraelle’s bountiful tits what do we have here” the six sneakered “Grab the three, kill those two” he pointed at Kain and the blonde youth.

“Don’t harm the girls, they’re likes are worth a small ransom unspoiled” some of the six grunted in annoyance “Have at it with the boy if you must, necromancers will still pay a heavy sac for a tortured soul” one of the six, with a wicked scar across the left cheek licked at his lips upon hearing so.

Ruffians? No, too well armed and dressed for common thugs. Nichol drew his long knife, the well-oiled blade barely making a sound as the tip clipped the wooden lip of the scabbard. The crimson youth steadied his footing, lowering himself for better stability. Stepping towards the blonde, the scarred man drew his arming sword and buckler, Haven’t seen that before spied the crimson youth. Turning towards his own quarry, Kain observed as a lean man stepped forward drawing his rapier and falling into a well-practiced form as he drew near. You too young to be carrying steel. Grow some hair first, the youth reminiscent the words of the old sword master. The cries of steel heralded the clash between the blonde and the kidnapper to be, Kain did not falter. The crimson youth eyed the warrior closely as the offender circled slowly around him, the sturdy solid blade of the rapier hungering for blood. Then akin to a patient viper the warrior pounced upon the youth, posture perfect, aim true. Alas to the youth he appeared sluggish. The bloodlust guided the crimson boy, he ducked low, stepping under and into the chest check. Half an inch from the nape of is his neck, Kain could almost feel the cold touch of the tapered blade. Untrained and driven by pure instinct, the youth struck at the warrior’s sternum open palmed. With a crack the rapier wielder shot into the alley, the raw wet slaps and snaps letting all know of the man’s faith, cloaked as he was by the alley’s thick shadows. All looked upon the crimson boy, never one to let a slip up go answered, the blonde’s blade found his aggressors jugular.

“Hold men” the leader retained his iron grip “Must be Alteration, I don’t think one dressed so… simply can afford to maintain the state for long” his words calming the remaining four. “A swing of the draught, we’ll wait him out” the blonde’s very existence phasing out of mind.

The five men reached for their flasks, a keen eye on the red haired youth. Moments later, their muscled tensed and bulged, dark lines snaking around flesh and eyes a solid white only broken by pulsating veins. The empowered men stalked the youth with weapons drawn, intelligence visible with every step.

The bastard could have done me the decency of leaving his sword before taking flight just as Kain finished the thought, the blonde youth charged an offender, only to receive the butt of a poleaxe by an unnaturally fast opponent. Breaking the swinging arm of the youth, Nichol was sent spinning yards away as the pole caught the offending arm squarely, barely clipping his chin. Nichol sprawled unconscious across the cobblestones.

A red mist of unbound fury filled Kain, his pupils narrowing to golden slits, edged in red. The golden eyed youth kicked off the ground, cracking the cobblestones as he launched onto a charge. Matching the youth’s speed two warriors skidded unnaturally along the ground, stopping shoulders to shoulder, rapiers meeting the crimson youth in a synchronized lunge. In rage, the mad boy reached to grab naked steel. And as if twisting to his will his nails darkened, growing into claws. Dark red scales blossomed, lining Kain’s hands before thinning to none existence above the wrist. The swords shuddered, however both wielders and weapons stood fast. Snaking from the youth’s left struck a poleaxe, the third man joining the fray. The pole’s tip seeking the golden eyed boy’s armpit, only to meet the youth’s left hand, in all its twisted glory. The sudden stop knocked the air out of the thrusting foe.

Gleaning the machinations of the boy, the leader sprang into motion, for the first time doubting his current course of action. The man watched as the boy pulled his subordinates in, they toppled towards the youth, unable to cope with the sudden shift in force. Before they could adjust their footing, the boy stepped forwards spinning but the once, curving right to left. Disemboweling the trio. As the dying warriors clutched at their abdomen, the leader was upon the youth, catching the boy unawares as the crimson dervish completed his twirl.

Ignoring the longsword through his right kidney Kain leapt unto the taller man. Evening glare dancing unto the elongated canines and sharpened teeth, the boy mauled the man to death.

Becoming incontinent, the final aggressor took in what had transpired before him in but an instant. And in a spark of ingenuity dropped his bow and arrow, scrambling for the warm embrace of the alley’s shadows.

A mighty guttural roar resounded, announcing ones dominance upon the world. Hushed voices echoed about. Whether the taste of iron upon his palate, or the three odd feet of steel jutting through him, the red haired boy returned to his senses.

Taking stock about Kain noticed the mob. Uncaring for the blood and viscera painting him as a herald of death, the ever more crimson youth sought for his friends. A few nervous moments later, the blood caked boy laid eyes upon his quarry. The young terror made for his comrades, relief washing over him as Nichol had awaken, the blonde favoring his wounds. In sync as if upon the strings of a puppeteer, the four youths locked eyes with the golden eyed boy. Their countenance tensed, inlaid with a heavy dose of fear. Ah, forgot that I was…Am, skewered by a sword thought Kain, happy that his comrades worried about him so. Struggling against the urge to lay down and welcome the soft embrace of a deep slumber the youth took another step, the cacophony of shouts nothing but a gentle buzz. A sudden searing pain in his chest ripped the blood soaked boy out the induced stupor in a most violent manner.

“I said hold!” bellowed an older man clad in hauberk, topped with city guard livery.

Kain looked upon the quarrel poking out, tiny streams of blood mixing with the gore coating him. The bolt barely found an inch of purchase before being constricted by the unnatural flesh of the youth. What am I, a pincushion smirked the boy. The act unnerving the middle age man, captain apparent of the dozen or so guards.

The mob started to stir, “Clear out the citizen” preempted the captain “Now!” said the man grabbing a subordinate by the shoulder.

What the hells— a primal tingle urged the boy to move. Kain twisted, more throwing himself to the ground than dodging. Before the boy even hit the ground, nary a foot away, where he stood but moments before lay a heavy ballista bolt. Ears still wringing from the thunderous strike of the siege weapon the red haired boy made out filigree patterns upon the projectile through the clouds of dust. Before the boy could react, the bolt lit up, and a ten foot wide pillar of fire engulfed him. Tearing hundreds of feet to the heavens. The melting sword pulled on Kain’s wound, dragging and aggravating the bleeding. Raging about the inferno soothed the youth’s brow, cradling the boy like a mother’s sweet embrace.

Swaying about the soot covered youth waddled within the molten street. The carbonized residue upon him offering scant little modesty as the flames subdued, the arcane energies spent. By the ten, they want me dead. Glancing at his friends Kain saw that the guards were tending to them. Aiding the injured away from threat. From a fiend. From him. I have to run, get away and hide the youth resolved himself, his abdomen still gored but barely bleeding now. I’ve got to wait this out the boy studied the demonic claws topping his digits whatever ‘this’ is.

The ash covered boy wanted nothing more than to crawl within a silent crevice at the world’s edge and sob. Treated as a repulsive scourge to be purged nearly broke the young boy. But something within him bit back, as if the very notion was its antithesis. Whatever this facet was, it refused to buckle to the world, for the world would bend before it.

Kain trotted through the circle of solidifying cobblestone, breaking into a harried sprint as claws tasted solid ground. For it seemed the youth’s transformation was deeper entrenched than he himself had realized. A spear whizzed by, aim pathetically off. It mattered not, for the impromptu javelin announced the Knight Order, the reverberations of the pure bred chargers unmistakable. The irony of such a fate not lost upon the exhibitionist youth.

A cacophony of horns and hooves, akin to a fox hunt. If the fox stood at five feet tall and tore through solid stone as it rounded corners. Kain zigged and zagged at every turn, with all the grace of a stampeding bull. Alas at every instant the youth was met with another retinue of riders, as if the Knights were precognizant. Daring a backward glance the crimson boy spied a peculiar full plate knight. The warrior a stark black amongst the white and silver about him. A golden aura juxtaposed the dark knight. Aslena preserve me. That’s a Justicar of Cipheutt shuddered the youth, never in his short lived life did Kain ever harbor the slightest sliver of desire to meet one of their ilk.

Breaking into an open square Kain eyed a narrow crevice. They can’t possibly follow me through there. As the thought came to him, all about blurred. The crimson youth struggled to hold his ground, feeling as if Ettrepha herself pulled at him, calling him to her depths.

An otherworldly presence pressed against the youth, the square about the boy sinking a yard into the earth, succumbing to the arcane forces. Hacking up blood every fiber of muscle strained as Kain fought the losing battle for the mere right to stand. The stab wound about his mid-section bleeding anew.

The Knights circled their prize, careful not to step within the wrathful circle. Patiently they waited.

Within the perverse silence, only broken by a charger’s occasional petulant snort and the grinding of his own teeth, Kain made out the chanting of the Justicar. Seconds turned to minutes and the boy felt his strength about to fail. Fear finally overwhelming pride the red haired boy pleaded internally, begged almost. Just as the youth was about to collapse into a sad, pathetic depraved bundle the ground beneath him shifted. A pillar of earth shot from underneath the boy, propelling him towards the crevice.

The hunters watched dumbly as their quarry flew above head, carving walls upon the ungraceful entry of the crevice.

Dragging himself off the grime sleeked ground, the youth slithered deeper, without a second thought as to his timely rescue. Edging deeper the shouts and screaming grew dimmer as the straight crevice split into a maze. Muck and goo sloshed sickly in unfortunate places as the less red haired youth pressed on. I should hedge my bets in the slums solved the light headed youth. Pus now bubbled about his wounds, the mindless roaming to reach the dilapidated areas leaving the boy searching for hours. The sun had long since set as the youth refused to leave the safety of the narrow maze prematurely.

Crumbling buildings, tiny shacks, smell of piss and shit. Seems like I made it signed Kain as he gingerly snaked his way, avoiding any human contact through the slums within a forgotten corner hugging the massive hundred feet outer wall.

After much skulking about, the sneak caught a caved-in brick abode in his periphery. Cautiously the youth turned rogue surveyed over the still high remains of the walls, confirming that it was void of life. The persistent chill and mosquito infested pools were poor hosts. This will have to do though Kain as he slid down as silently as his battered body allowed. Finding a relatively dry corner the boy sat down, curling unto a fetal position in a futile attempt to fight the cold. Exhausted, the boy cast aside all stray though opting to simply idle and possible regain a tithe of his sapped health.

Frigid moments later, as slumber encroached upon the youth barks broke the umbral cloak. Kain jumped to his feet, cramped muscles objecting. Sodding blood hounds almost screamed the filth caked youth. Coercing the feeling back into the traitorous limbs, Kain made to scramble away. Along with a useless tingle of danger in his subconscious the youth became weightless. Then, along with the splendid abode, the boy was brutally tossed. Like a doll with cut strings the raw concussive wave saw the boy bouncing along the dirt ground. Ploughing the earth the boy ricochet through the haphazard abodes of the slums, dislocating his right shoulder and twisting the elbow before being arrested by one of the few standing buildings in a most dramatic fashion. The structure collapsed upon the tortured youth in a great cloud of dust, debris, and pieces of the doomed residents.

And so, the mighty sorcerers announced their eminence.

Beneath the rubble, flirting with Ettrepha, the once crimson youth convulsed. Consciousness fading. Grasping the loosened rein, primal instinct engulfed the shattered boy. Muscles rippled, pulled, tore, remade anew. Bones creaked, twisted, and broke in places.

The hunt approached the shattered pile, heavy Knights protective of their robed charges as sorcerer staves crackled with arcane brilliance upon every step.

A trio broke from the throng, the sorceress behind her two Knight guards. The vanguard made for the rubble. Without preamble a shadow burst from within the wreckage, knocking the warriors aside and making away with the sorceress a dozen yards away.

There it stood, on all three, favoring its right foreleg. Wings hugged the crimson serpent. The young dragon glared defiantly upon its aggressors. Sorceress head tightly clamped within its jaws. Cruelly twisted, the corpse hung, limp and lifeless. Loosening the razor lined maw, the contorted woman fell from the seven feet tall predator. Akin to the gong of a fighting pit, the discarded sorceress sparked the assemble mass to violence.

Quarrels and arrows twanged. Lightning streaked. Arcane bolts volleyed. The crimson worm swerved, unfurled wings making for mighty strides. An occasional projectile found its mark. Undeterred, the dragon forged on. In a dozen heartbeats the outer walls came within Kain’s sight. With a heroic, wing assisted bound, the young dragon arched through the air. Claws finding the top, steadying himself, Kain made for the final leap. Then he shot forth, under no power of his own.

Splinters and moist dirt rained down as the dragon found himself in a small crater. Craning its head the lucid youth laid slit eyes upon his escape aid. A massive steel javelin lodged above the youth’s hips, goring the serpent. Spine shattered. And so, paralyzed waist down. A limp arm, arcane scars, and peppered with arrows and bolts. Run…run. Must escape. Keep moving… The youth clawed, dragging the ravaged lump of flesh. As Kain made deeper within the woods, what little left of the crimson youth’s psyche scattered to the winds.