Many things have happened that will lead up to the story I'm about to write down. Many things, indeed. I suppose my story began in a now destroyed land, which had several names. I think I'll always call it Tyran's Cove, simply because that was where the city was- right next to a massive cove named Tyran's Cove. Sure, I suppose they called it Odin for a long time, too. You can call it whatever you want. To me, Tyran's Cove is home.
I was never made by the loins of another. I don't have parents, or at least parents as you would imagine. I learned much about who I was later, but for your sake, I'll tell you now what had happened in the first five years of my life as I only know after thousands of years of searching for answers.
In Kisera, the realm which you're probably in, there was a city called Veyja, located on the peninsula on the far south-eastern part of the continent. This city was probably one of the most powerful in Kisera, next to Mystic and several other large towns. Veyja was constantly at war, though, with a nearby town called Pyrance. In order to obtain peace, the council of mages in Veyja eventually decided to concieve five great guardians which would hold the few passes of the rocky Veyja highlands which surrounded the peninsula.
Why five? Because there was once a great seer in Veyja, who undisputably could see into the future. And he said he had seen the five points of a star pointing individually to five different predators- the wolf, the bear, the spider, the eagle, and the tiger. The prophesy was taken very seriously, and soon it became realized that those were five symbols for a greater creature... either a new breed, or one hidden within the realm. And, impatiently, they decided to create the new breed.
So, near Tyran's Cove, eighteen mages began trying to combine creatures in unconventional alchemic spells. Their goal was to make five very intelligent shapeshifters with the ability to actually grow stronger depending on their weaknesses. For example, if one of these 'guardians' got burnt, the next time he touched fire, the flame would do less to him.
And eventually, they succeeded. They created me and my brethren, the 'Birvuo' as we called ourselves, and at the young age of two they began brutal training to hopefully hone our skills so that the war with the Pyrancians could end.
Understand I never knew any of this tale. I was a child, and my family when I had been born consisted only those four other boys. We didn't realize what was happening just yet. The training was mostly of schooling at two, but soon they began experiments to see what would make us stronger.
My earliest memory was in that horrid building, which we never left. One of the alchemists was speaking to another in a hushed voice. They thought I couldn't hear, but all five of us could.
"They need to be put under the flame. It'll be the quickest way," he was saying. "And the sooner we do it, the stronger they'll be when they finish growing."
The other argued, but soon lost the arguement. We were sitting there, staring at pages of letters and pretending to read while we were actually eavesdropping. The flame? What did this mean?
Imagine my confusion when the alchemist took our books out of the way, and then casted a spell upon all five of us, there in the center of the room. Fire lashed over our bodies completely, searing flesh and burning off hair.
That is my first clear memory.
--
Things begin to get very clear from there on. The four other Birvuo were just like me, and they hated the situation they were in. Each day was filled with brutal physical attacks and constant forced schooling. We came to know that this position we were in wasn't right, and by four years old we began to plot.
The Spider Birvuo was probably the best at this. He was a clever child, called Kyen, witty and quick on his feet. And he was frightened of the fire which they used to make our flesh stronger and our bodies better. He would refuse to do anything willingly for hours on end, only to get more brutally attacked with a physical spell.
I knew something was wrong the whole time. I knew that we weren't supposed to be locked inside of a building with eighteen determined and possibly mad spellcasters for four years. And soon I realized this key thing- we were a new race.
That was a valuable discovery. When I told the other four of my thought, we realized that indeed, they seemed to be training us with hesitation and often times error. Which lead to the conclusion that we could very well be stronger than them.
And we were. Physically we could almost bear any physical spell, except for ice (they never used it on us, and I'm assuming now it's because they wanted that one weapon if we should fight). We were very young, and seemed harmless, but what they had done to us had changed our bodies.
We couldn't do anything with this knowledge, except we tried to figure out what we were. We began to learn more eagerly, desperate for the information which would lead to our escape. But each day was the same, and it left us demoralized... each day, we would be burnt, lashed, even stabbed, and then we would lay in the bed and wait for the aches to dissappear. Our bodies healed rapidly, but the pain was still there. I am flesh, like you. Then we would read for hours, or practice mathmatics, or even learn simple spells.
And the Kyen would fight. Each day, he'd do something to lash against the alchemists. Usually he tried spells on them, and one time he actually succeeded. This was right before I was five years old, and we had been taught to shoot bolts of steel through the air with magnetics.
My brother had written the spell when the alchemist was looking down at a paper, and then casted it at him. The steel bolt flew directly into his eye, puncturing it and embedding itself in his head. He fell over immidiately. All five of us (as we were always together) leapt up in sudden excitement, adrenaline pulsing. But nearby, one of the mages struck us with lightning until we were screaming and writhing on the floor.
During this, I realized something. My arm was twisting at impossible angles, and growing fur. In fact, for a moment, it grew a claw. Even in the pain of the lightning, I learned then my nature.
Then they took the spider Birvuo and beat him to the brink of death for his action against the mage. They would have killed him if he weren't so valuable. And he didn't leave his bed for three days.
Three weeks later, I whispered to my brothers softly as we were studying books.
"Today we get free. But don't hesitate."
They all looked at me for a moment, then turned back to their books so they didn't draw suspicion. Hours passed as I tried to imagine what to do, and they kept tentatively asking me what the plan was.
"I don't know." I looked at him, then looked down to my book. There was a tiger on the page, drawn elegantly and snarling. Then I looked at Malos, the bear Birvuo, and tapped the picture.
"That's my plan."
--
The moment of my escape happened very quickly. It was several hours later, after the studying. We were told to put our books away and stand in the center of the room and get ready for the spell. Ahh, the old routine.
You see, eventually, they stopped trying to hide their torture. They ceased the trickery and simply told us to stand in the center of the room, where the spell would do the least damage to the study. And either we did, or we'd get beaten much worse.
We moved about clearing the books, very slowly because we were frightened as always of the pain they'd inflict. Kyen was obviously miserable, tears rolling silently down his face even as he moved the books to the shelf. He was frightened of the fire more than any of us, frightened so horribly that he would tremble as he braced himself.
"Alright. Good job," one of the mages was saying. His name was Deverance, and he was one of the head spellcasters in the operation. They began only using the skilled casters, because weaker spells had hardly any effect on us. "Now..."
He never finished the sentance. Kyen had bolted around him and through the other side of the room. Another mage was in there and leapt up to chase, but Kyen had reached the door and was fumbling with the lock. Another moment and he would have had it, another moment and Kyen would have been flying through the forest safe from any fire.
But that moment passed to fast. As he tried for the lock, a pillar of fire surrounded his form, and he fell on the ground screaming and curling into the fetal position. They must have been at it for only minutes, but it seemed hours later that they pulled his smoldering body off the floor and into his room.
Then the two mages came back, and Deverance took his position before us. We were frightened, but somehow empowered by Kyen's rebellion... what if we all made it to the door next time, and somehow we got that lock open. Sure, it was an enchanted door, but we didn't know it then and had our hopes.
Without warning, Deverance locked us within that same pillar of fire. Around me, gusts of searing hot wind flew upwards, tearing at my flesh, and soon it began to get way too hot. I looked down and watched as my hairs dried and began to burn. Soon, they were red embers, and then ash.
And the pain began. It began slowly, making us cry out, but it spread as it always did and cooked deeper and deeper, reaching further into us. As it happened, I kept thinking of Kyen, curled on the floor. They used the spell way to long on him. Poor Kyen, who wouldn't move for a day or two he was so badly burnt. The fire was getting warmer, but I was thinking of Kyen's rebellion. And as I felt the familiar painful sensation, I realized again my body was trying to change.
And for a moment, everything seemed so wrong, everything they were doing to us. This wasn't the way life was. In the real world, children didn't get tortured daily to become some strong weapon. It was unjust, and immoral, and everything should be different. A white rage filled my mind, a rage at the pure evil that surrounded us, and my body began to contort even more.
My three brothers, though in pain, were staring at me in horrified fascination. They didn't understand.
But I knew. My mind went blank and I knew the fury. I felt the rage enter me, and envelope me, and consume everything. I felt myself fly out of the fire and into one of the mages, I saw myself tear his throat open with my hands which were no longer hands, and I knew the fury.
Then, all I knew was the fury. It was everything.
--
I don't remember what happened next. My mind became null, and a white rage consumed me. But I can tell you what I saw afterwards.
The building was torn apart. Where we had been standing, the fire had apparently gotten out of control and caught with the ceiling and spread. Everywhere, small fires still burnt. There was gore in each corner of the room. One of the mages lay against the bookshelf where just earlier Kyen had placed his books. His entrails lay in his lap, and his eyes stared coldly at his liver. Another one had been beaten it seemed, his head caved in and oddly formed.
Three more mages in the bedrooms. One with a claw mark erasing what was his face, and another crumpled in the corner. The third was laying against the ground, his face mercifully hidden from view by the odd angle and his hair which covered it. But I remember it was dripping, and the sound of his blood falling from his dark, hidden face is one I'll never forget.
I did that.
There was another in the hallway. He was reaching for the window, but his spine had been severed and he lay facedown with his arm stretching for the light. And another in the next room. And another..
The body count totalled seventeen. One mage made it.
My brothers were nowhere to be found. Even Kyen was missing, and he couldn't have walked off.. not burnt as he was. I began to panic. I thought perhaps I had killed them too, in my rage, or worse that the absent mage had taken them and fled for another, more secure location.
I couldn't find any clues, any answers, and all I could hope was that they made it. And then I walked away from that dark place, and began my life.
--
That was the first time I had been outside for so long. I think I walked through the forest for a few days, probably going in circles, before I decided to follow a river downstream and see where it lead. Each night I'd curl up under the base of a tree and hope that I wasn't woken by some odd forest creature, and never did I find myself being dragged into a cave by some brutal monster.
I was certainly unkempt, though. I had been walking naked the entire time, because the fire had burnt up my clothes and I hadn't thought to get anymore before I left. I was a child, and you should understand at least that I had little modesty, especially surrounded by woodland creatures. But at night, the cold chilled me and made me curl up against myself. I had never experienced such bitter cold, and I remember each night falling asleep to the sound of my teeth striking eachother.
Finally after following the stream for a day, I saw the outline of a building on a hill. It was a dark structure, surrounded by dead trees even in the lively spring season. The gate was thin and iron, and rust had bored through the metal in places. In other spots, ivy had grown and then died, leaving skeletal fingers trailing along the lattices.
As I drew closer, I saw the building wasn't as abandoned as first glances would assume. People would walk up the stone walkway and into the structure, and from within I could hear the cheery sound of laughter and drinks being clinked together in cheers and goodwill. I hurried to get around the fence and to the gate, so I could make my way up the hill and into the structure. Someone there would help me, surely. They all sounded so nice.
I didn't notice the dead trees anymore. The fact that there was a massive grinning skull wrought into the gate didn't even slow my steps. And I never looked down to realize the white walkway I hurried up was really made of the tops of skulls, smoothed over with age and use. Why would I notice the graves surrounding the building? I had never seen another structure but the one I had just left, and the knowledge that those were markers for the dead never entered my youthful mind. No, I was dead set on entering that building, to join the merry crowd inside and eat and rest.
When I opened the door and looked around, everyone in the room turned their head to gaze at me. A child of only five years old, naked and unbelievably dirty. There was laughter and many random comments throughout the room, but my eyes saw only one thing.
There, across the room, was what I later learned to be a werewolf. He was massive, standing well over the rest of the patrons. In his right hand was a steel goblet with the letters "HG" woven in an intricate celtic knot. His fur was an identical shade of grey, with white streaks running through certain parts, and his eyes were massive and filled with vitality. He raised his goblet at me, laughing in what sounding like a snarl, and a few of the people near him raised their drinks as well in the merry manner.
Suddenly there was the smell of jasmine, and a women was wrapping me in a blanket and ushering me from the crowd. Her beautiful brown eyes stared at me as she kept asking me questions.
"Who's your mother? What's your name... and why are you here?" she was asking, crouched down to look me in the eye.
Suddenly I had to answer these questions. Mother? Name? What should I say?! I just stared at her, and then began to bawl uncontrollably. She wrapped her arms around me and held me, and for the first time in my life I felt the comfort of safety.
Finally, wiping my eyes and sniffling obnoxiously, I began to reply. "I don't... I don't have a mom."
"Ohh? Who takes care of you, child?" she asked, suddenly concerned. Her voice had an odd accent in it, and even then I noted it's unique sound. Exotic, a word I learned later, would be perfect for the situation.
"No one.. they're dead." I shook my head. "They're all dead. I didn't mean to." And then, without warning, I began to sob again. I was crying for my lost brothers, and for that face that I couldn't see, the one which dripped from some mangled mess the shadows hid.
For the first time in my life, I cried for the dead.
--
I became an adopted son in that building. The woman who had helped me called herself Nineveh, and eventually told me that she would take care of me. Her husband, oddly enough, was the massive werewolf. He went by a much simpler name then my 'mother', and called himself 'Steelwolf'.
Over time, the rest of the familia became known to me. They called themselves the House of Grim, an order of necromancers and fierce warriors which were led by a rough man named simply 'Grim' and his wife. Of all the people there, Grim liked me the least, and I remember him giving me cruel looks constantly.
I told Nineveh that my name was 'cat', instinctively. I suppose it's because I hated anything which reminded me of that dark building, and my name there... 'Denryu'. So I became known as 'Kat', or sometimes even the dark cat. I grew very interested in the arts of the undead and the magics those around me casted constantly, and lusted for the knowledge in every pore of that building.
Those were quite possibly the happiest moments of my life. For once, I had a family, with a mother and a father, and I became a son. From that moment on, my first five years became nothing more then a myth, and I never told anyone much of it. Except that I didn't mean for it to happen, and that I had to find the others. 'Others?' people would ask, but I'd never really answer. No, there was never an answer, for I was to caught up in the joy my family brought. My father and I became very close, and each day he'd run around the house with me on his back, laughing in his primal way as I giggled merrily. My mother would always watch on, smiling, before giving her husband a tender hug and kissing me on the forehead.
Yes, I experienced love in that year, and as the year passed, they even planned a birthday for me. I never told them when I was born because I never really knew, but they guessed and celebrated my fifth year despite.
"You're growing up fast, little guy," my father said to me on that day, grinning. "My father gave me a gift when I celebrated my fifth birthday, and I'm passing it on to you." Though I didn't know it, this was the first and last birthday gift of my life.
He handed me a blue sword, it's edge suprisingly sharp, and then took me aside to speak in a hushed tone.
"This shortsword was forged by my fathers father, who is a god among wolves. Fenris made this blade so that it would never grow dull, and in all your years it will never need to be sharpened. Take care of it, and never lose it." Then he patted me on the back and I ran off, excited to play with the new toy.
I've never lost that beloved blade, and in fact I use it to this day. It's never once grown dull, and I'd daresay it's gotten sharper in it's four thousand years in my possession.
Three weeks after my celebrated birthday, I visited the bar for the first time. A child in a bar? You might be wondering how that's even possible. But it wasn't uncommon, and my father brought me with the rest of the familia to experience for the first time the true pinnacle of all gossip and intruigue. People crowded the small room, which was said to be the most prestigious pub in the entire town. Indeed, kings and queens visited it regularily, their crests well shined and several powerful creatures accompanying them.
I was fascinated. The sounds of drunken fights and deep debates rang in my ears like an orchestra. The smell of burning tobacco and cooking food mingled in my nose pleasantly. And the people came to me in waves, talking and pinching my cheeks and chatting with my parents about how cute I looked.
I got my first look outside of the House of Grim, and realized that there was more than the dark world of that guild. And I met the first children my age, a lovely girl named Blue who actually never wore that color. I became fascinated with these children and planned on leaving the House unattended soon.
I returned there only days later to find several of the children I had met before. One was named Rose, and I fell into a maddening crush with her after only just meeting her. She was in another family, called the Night Lords, and around her neck was a lovely pendant with the traditional 'nL' woven in the chain.
Instead of the exciting pub, I left the House of Grim more frequently to visit with Rose and the other nL. Their clan was even more friendly to me, and though my alliances never wavered from my parents, I felt more at home around them. Often I'd climb up to the rafters and lay there with an arm dangling, staring down at the room and joking with people underneath me. It was easier to be a child without Grim's cold and dark stare, dissapproving of my every move.
And, unlike the confines of the House of Grim, in the lovely haven the Night Lords had made, I found I had fallen in love with Rose.
I remember her so clearly. Crystal Rose was her proper name, I suppose, because her mother had a similar name like Amethyst. Ohh I can't even remember. But Rose... I remember her so well.
God damn I'm a monster.
--
Rose and I became the best of friends. Even at my young age, I was attracted to her and the innocence she bore. Yes, innocence. I was never an innocent child, probably because of those things which I had been taught in my first four years of life. She was young as I never would be, and always so generous and friendly. We would run around together everywhere, becoming seperated only at night time when we had to retire to our seperate families for sleep.
We fell into love, but it's different then what you'd expect. We were children, and our form of love was expressed through our friendship and not our intimacy. We were inseperable, and every one of the nL thought that we'd grow up to get married. Even I thought that, back in those lovely days when the grass was so beautifully green to my eyes.
But horrible events began to happen. Rose's mother was killed by an enemy of the nL, and Rose herself had to return to her homeworld in order to escape the potential death. I remember that day.
I was within the Haven, watching as I often did from the rafters. There was a great deal of commotion, and the leader of the nL, Lilith, was in a heated arguement with another clan member about Rose's mother and the man who killed her. It was determined the man would have a kill on sight on his head, which meant the entire clan was required to look for him, and if he were found he'd be killed.
Rose entered the room, tears streaming down her youthful face. I climbed down from my spot in the rafters and went to her to comfort her, but she kept sobbing loudly and talking about her mother.
Then she led me to her mothers grave, which was buried with the rest of the nL deceased in a massive graveyard nearby the Haven. The soil was fresh, and the headstone declared "Here Lies Amethyst Rose Amulet, Beloved Mother And Friend". Rose was bawling again, touching the engraved letters with her fingers as tears streamed down her face.
Finally she looked at me. "Kat," she said in a somber voice, sniffling a bit as she did. "I have to go back home."
"Home? Where?" I asked, lifting my brows. I didn't know she meant to leave indefinately. "Why do you have to leave?"
"That man that killed my mother... he'll probably try to kill me too," she replied, looking at me closely. "I have to go away with Drak`en and the others."
When she left, I didn't see her again for thousands of years. I didn't know it then that she wouldn't be returning, and when she left I figured she'd be back in a few days or at most a week. Yet the man who had killed her mother was still at large, and threatened the lives of several more nL in the next few months.
I realized eventually my error, and that Rose would never be coming back. And while I missed her greatly, I realized I had to move on with my life.
--
I stopped visiting the nL so much, and became a regular at the pub even at my youthful age. I made many friends there, such as Leon and Blue, and even made a clan to mimick all those older people around me. I didn't know it, but I was a born leader, and it was beginning to show even in those moments. My little clan of children grew rather strong, perhaps having six or seven members which were really just children from other clans. I bonded with my friends, and once more fell for a girl.
Blue, my fellow clansmate, became my new best friend. Perhaps she was there to replace Rose, but I never loved her like I loved Rose. And one day, Blue underwent a very powerful (and suprisingly common) spell which would age her to her prime adulthood. I had fallen for her, and so in my crush I chased after the concept and had myself aged by a skilled mage.
I wish I hadn't. I skipped many years of my childhood, and became an adult that day. The way I thought changed drastically, and all the knowledge I had gained in my youth made much more sense in a much crueler and less appealing way. The grass didn't look as green, so to speak.
Blue, the one who I had followed, had already ran off and found a boyfriend. Indeed, she was engaged to be married, which I discovered only after taking such a rash action to be with her.
I never missed her, though. I never missed her at all. I still missed Rose, and my now lost youth.
--
