It was the winter of late November. Snow fell, coating the grounds with a heavy layer of deadly ice.

  It was on this day that a boy was born. Heir to the throne of the Deer family.

  His birth was prophesied years beforehand, claiming the birth of this boy, that his body, his innards would protect the world and bring peace to all.

  Though it didn’t take long for things to go south.

  The boy wasn’t even six when disaster struck. Fire ravaged his kingdom, burning down everything he knew and loved. Homes burned. People ran. They screamed. They died.

  Now, the child was stuck inside, trapped within a burning building. He was placed there by other children who were jealous of his title, of his soon to be gained power. They originally didn’t mean to cause harm, but now as the flames rose around him, the young boy cried and tugged against the restraints holding him captive.

  Then a man came in. He stared at the child, trapped, screaming, begging for help, but all he did was take a jewel, a jewel that lay on the boy’s neck, a sign of his family title. The older man tugged off the necklace, removing the jewel from its chains then tossing the rest of the metal away.

  Yet, he didn’t stop there. The man grinned slyly. With a snap of his fingers the flame rose.

  “I doubt you’ll live, but just in case...”

  His hand waved through the air. Gliding as a soft blue glow emitted from it. As the man turned around he tossed the blue light at the boy, then left the building.

  The child knew that death would come, he knew the danger placed on him. He struggled harder against the chains, just enough so that he could avoid the blue streak.

  Instead the glow bounced off a mirror behind him. It flickered around the room, bouncing about until it finally made its way back to him. He fell unconscious the moment it hit him.

  It was almost two hours later when he awoke. Placed by a campfire, wrapped in the soft fur of some skinned animal.

  He coughed up smoke, rubbing his ash coated skin.

  “It felt wrong to wash you up. Are you injured?”

  Soul stared at the dark skinned male. His father often told him to stay away from such poor people, but his mother always told him the opposite, to care for those who give care back.

  Through coughs, he said, “I… am well. Did you save me?”

  “No, I came back from hunting and found you here passed out beside an open can of beans.”

  If he didn’t save Soul, then who did?

  The boy found it painful to think, to remember what happened between then and now. Maybe it was better not to remember, but then it hit him. “They’re dead… all of them. Mom… Dad… no…”

  The older male frowned, he stroked at his bread for a moment before scooping up the small child. “Hey, I’ll take care of you for now. Until we reach the next city, I mean. Shouldn’t take long. Oh yeah, and I’m Francis.”

  And so, a week passed by and they walked to the next city. The two asked everyone for clues on if the child had any leftover family, but no one could answer. Instead, the two decided to stay together more permanently, traveling, hunting, and journeying together.

  The elf and human spent the next passing years together with the older man teaching the growing boy wrong from right.

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  “Happy birthday Kid.” The male choked up, lightly grasping at his lower jaw as he lowered a cake close to Soul.

  It made Soul frown, Mr. Francis had been a wonderful teacher, and an even better father. But he recently came down with a chronic illness, one without a cure.

  “Thank you, Sir.” The teen’s pointed eyes retracted softly. As he blew out the candle of the cake. “It should have been me.”

  “You? Oh Please, you have so much life left to live. It’s better for it to have hit me than you. I’m old.”

  “But you’ve done so much goe jm,od in this world.”

  “From what you are aware of. Everyone does bad things now and again- *cough*” Francis staggered forward. Legs throbbing. He soon hit the ground. Coughing up hoards of blood.

  Soul immediately came to his side. Eyes throbbing, tears running down. “DAD NO!”

  But Francis smiled, he laughed as blood escaped him. “Don’t cry young one. You have so much to live for….” An arm rose cupping the teens cheek, wiping the wet substance that fell. “I have a friend…he lives in the next town. About 5 miles north from us. He’ll care for you.”

  “No…”

  “You’re a good kid, Soul. Do right in the world. Make friends. You’ll need them.”

  “Please…”

  But that was the last thing said. Francis’ body went limp. The last bit of blood pooled below his lips. Forming a small puddle as Soul closed the male eyes.

  He wanted to cry, to scream but an inner voice told him otherwise. It told him to move on. But how could he? He could when the first person who cared for him was dead?

  The boy trembled, eyes shaking as he just stared at the blood that now caked his hands. The word “Blood-“ was the only thing to escape him before he blacked out.

  Again he awoke elsewhere. This time in a tavern. Sitting in a dark corner watching as life happens.

  To the right was a bar fight between an Ogre and centaur. On the left were two fairy’s making out, their wings flutter with a light dripping sparkle as they did so.

  At the bar itself was a younger male. Maybe around Soul’s age. He was currently talking to the bar keeper. A young woman who was telling him about something. Something to which angered him.

  “Excuse me! I can do this mission by myself! I don’t need others!”

  “I’m sorry sir, but legally I can’t give you the information unless you are a party of four or more.”

  “FINE!” The darker male snarled. He slammed his drink down on the counter causing its contents to spill. He began to stand on a chair. “WOULD ANYONE HERE LIKE TO JOIN ON MY MISSION TO THE KINGDOM OF DEATH? TO RECOVER A VAST AMOUNT OF TREASURY. SOME OF WHICH CAN EVEN REVIVE THE DEAD.”

  At first no one answered his called. But then everything went silent. Even the bar fight stopped. They all turned to one another then started to line up.

  “take me!”

  “All go!”

  “I can do it!”

  Each and everyone called out something different.

  “And why should I choose any of y’all to join my party?”

  It was at this moment when he heard his accent. A thick foreign one. Scottish? Russian? A mix of the two? Either way it captured Soul’s attention. But so did his words. “Revive the died?” He whispered to himself before standing and walking closer to the now growing crowd.

  “Prove yourself worthy to join me. The last three people still standing will join my cause.” The figure smirked cruelly as he sat down on counter, picking back up his drink as a horribly and gruesome battle started. He tossed over some gold coins to the bar keeper. “To pay for the damages.”

  A horrific laugh escaped his lips as he watched the battle. But then he eyes caught onto Soul’s. Eyeing him with a confused look. He looked amused. Amused that such a child, such a baby faced looking teen would show themselves up in a bar nonetheless joining the battle of dominance.

  Soul could see an attack coming towards the drinking teen. Yet without even looking at the flying sword the darker figure whipped out a sickle from is sheath and with a flick of his wrist the flying weapon was dismantled, cut into pieces. All without a glance away from his drink.

  Who is this guy

  Soul thought as he backed away. But he ended up bumping into a girl with a shield, covered in heavy amounts of blood. She gave him a confused look. “You’re adorable.” She laughed. Quickly covering the two of them with her shield as an attack came. “You should probably get out of here.”

  But he didn’t. He stayed. He needed that revival potion, vail. Whatever it was. He needed it.

  But the blood. God the blood was horrible. Soul could feel himself loosing consciousness. Black surrounded his vision. Yet it was only the moment when someone’s literally dead body fell on him when he passed out.