His name was Shatter, not the word, his name was the sound of glass shattering.

His first waking moments as a babe were in the arms of grave hag, she held him close in her arms swaddling him in the tattered rags of the corpses from the graves around her. She captured possums and fed him their milk. She (like all of her kind) was voiceless. Only the rasping of her breathing made sound, a crooning song for the babe.

By the time he could crawl he had learned the ancient language of the dead, the primordial communication of desiccation. From the smallest maggot to gigantic burrowing Barrow Twists.

He could understand them, and even speak their tongue. Though he had learned from the wordless Grave Hag to avoid most creatures of the dead. They cared only for flesh and souls. And the Shatter was both.

When the child was old enough to walk he learned what grave stones to keep at arms length and which he could knock on to be handed a tasty grub from the graves residents.

He had no concept of the disgust of decay, nor that a grub should be revolting. He only had the knowledge of the world he was born in. And so he enjoyed the grubs with all the relish of a child eating potato chips.

He continued to grow, and under the oversight of the Grave Hag, he learned from the undead creatures of the long forgotten graveyard. How to dig in the ground by the Rotten Teeth (a species of undead with vines growing throughout their bones, long front claws and the teeth made of leaves.).

How to leap and fight like the Howling Tornadoes (corpses of monkeys that carried spectral blades). And how to evade the Barrow Twists. That had not been intentional, it had been a consequence of the boy exploring into the sunken graves by the swamp. As the Barrow Twists detected their new lievly food they burst forth with a crash and a roar. Shatter ran through the half submerged swamp in a pell-mell sprint over grave stones.

Once he escaped he laughed and moved onto other things that were more interesting. The Grave Hag breathed in an agitated hiss and rapped her bone knuckles on the boy's head. He grumbled bit the bone of her forearm affectionately. She hissed (this time with a hint of patience) and pulled the child in close to her chest. She had lost her own skulling batch of offspring to a Barrow Twist while travelling on her kind's migration. The pinked skinned human baby (or in her mind an odd colored, unhealthily warm and odd shaped Grave Hag skulling) filled that void and she had stayed in this little oasis of death. Grave Hags only had a batch of skullings every two hundred years. With the loss of her skullings there was no hurry to move on. But with this new skulling she could once again finish her migration. She just waited for the pink skulling to stop being so hot, fearing it would die while it was so unhealthy.

But the skulling never stopped being so warm. When the skulling evaded Barrow Twists the Grave Hag decided it was time to start her migration again.

They travelled at night, over craggy desolate mountains, through caves of the wailing dead and threaded their way through tall, ancient forests filled with red leaves all year round.

When they entered a newer grave yard for the night they both dug up a grave, gently removed the occupant and closed the lid above them.

The two had been resting for several hours when there was a sharp knock on the coffin lid. Shatter grumbled and pushed up the lid to stab whatever undead denizen was bothering his slumber. It was a girl, she was wearing dark clothing and was wielding stick, almost as dangerous as the scowl on her face. "What are you doing in my Grandfather's grave?!" she snapped in righteous indignation.

Shatter didn't understand the creature's exact words, but he understood the intent and she used a few of the words from the language of the Devouring Souls. He hefted his trusty weapon of metal and stone (a long spike he had taken from a crypt on his journey) and parroted back "What?"

The girl's face flushed, obviously she had not been expecting a response from this creature of death. She quickly collected her thoughts and dove into her verbal assault "What. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Grandfather's. Grave?" before Shatter could answer the girl continued "I appreciate that you folded his arms and delicately put him on top of the pile of dirt from his grave, however it isn't decent to take him out of his grave, the dead stay in graves and the living stay above ground. Unless you're a miner, then you should be underground."

"We needed to rest for the night." Shatter answered with a confident precision to his words.

The branch in the girl's hand dipped slightly "Oh, you, you speak very well. I thought you were just parroting me."

"You're language is simple, almost embarrassingly simple." the boy answered crisply. He glanced down at the resting Grave Hag "Now go away, we are trying to sleep."

"Put my grandfather back!"

Shatter grumbled to himself he could sense this creature was likely not going to leave him be, he carefully closed the lid to let his Grave Hag continue to rest. With a practiced leap he jumped against one wall to the other to land on the grass with only a small speck of dirt on his foot, he gracefully brushed it off with a deft hand. "My mother and I are resting, we will be on our way tomorrow night."

The girl had taken a surprised step back as he emerged from the hole, she firmed her jaw "No, I have lost my residence I will not allow my grandpa to lose his residence as well."

"It is only for the night." Shatter reasoned gently, the more the girl spoke the better he was learning the inflections of the language. "And wouldn't your grandfather enjoy the chance to look up at the stars?"

The girl's expression faltered "Oh, I hadn't thought of that... I supposed one night is okay." she looked at the boy in his grave rags and said "My name is Anastasia Waterway, of the city of Metal Wood."

"I am" and he made the sound of glass shattering, to be specific the shattering sound that occurs when a Grave Hag throws a Barbed Howler through the glass of a crypt and finds a pink skinned skulling within.

Anastasia wrinkled an eyebrow, "What did you say your name was?"

The boy repeated the sound. He could see she was unsure how to respond, he closed his eyes searching for a way to reduce the noises that identified the shattering sound of his rescue. identified the unexpected hope of his mother at finding a skulling to carry to the migration, how could he reduce all of the things that his name meant into the sound of this rudimentary language. "Shatter, you may call me Shatter."

Anatasia processed the name, a smile unexpectedly split her face "It does suit you." She extended a gloved hand "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Shatter."

The boy took her proffered hand, his skin pale against her black lace gloves. Her hand was warm. An unexpected sensation. "You're warm." he observed.

"And you're cold as the grave." she responded with a smile still.

The boy smiled back "That's not what my mother says. She says I am unnaturally warm and she fusses that I will expire at any moment." his eyes travelled down to the coffin with affection.

Anastasia was about to ask about the grave when a voice cut through their conversation, "You're not supposed to be here this late, Miss Waterway." a tall, thin young man emerged holding up a lantern, he had the chiseled jaw and dark hair that would make some women swoon, Anastasia's expression changed to a snarl of distaste "Best you be gone, Peter Norswitch. I have no interest in speaking to the likes of you."

"Rich, powerful, handsome, which one displeases you?" Peter asked with a charming smile.

"I believe it is a combination of all three, added with the arrogance." the pale boy noted dryly. "Even a Rotten Tooth would avoid your grave."

"Who asked you?" The Norswitch boy glared towards him "Wait, who are you?"

"I'm Shatter." the boy answered glibly, lacing his words with hints of aggression, mimicking the other boy's tone. "I think you best leave."

Peter's eyes narrowed and he clutched his necklace "I recognize a foul undead when I see it!" golden light engulfed the graveyard, burning the grass near Peter to ash. Shatter had been expecting some type of attack from the start and stepped behind the protective cover of a large grave stone. When the light had abated the boy Peter was laughing "Hah, killed my first grave muncher!"

Shatter emerged from behind him and broke his arm "We grave munchers are not so easily killed." he whispered into the other boy's ear. It took a moment for the Norswitch boy to register the pain. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground. The pale boy watched with curiosity as the boy flopped about. "Have you never felt pain before? That wouldn't have stopped an undead or common animal from fighting or running. You are truly fragile things, aren't you?"

"Not all of us are pathetic like Peter." Anastasia retorted, she sat on a gravestone and watched the boy quiet to sobs.

"Are you going to attack me?" Shatter asked.

The girl laughed "He tried to kill you, you broke his arm instead of taking his life, seems like he still owes you a favor."

Shatter sat beside the dark clad girl and enjoyed the twinkling stars above "You mentioned that you had lost your residence, what did that mean?"

"Oh, you can forget about that." Anastasia ordered lightly.

The boy beside her didn't shift his gaze from sky "You're voice held hints of anger, fear and despondence. Of burning suns and ancient power."

"You heard all of that in my voice?" She asked in awe.

"Partially, Peter was also holding a necklace that is from an old holy power but freshly charged, which means something decided to start handing out trinkets." Shatter picked up the necklace in one of his grave rags (to avoid direct contact) to inspect it. "Looks like a Burning Sun."

Anastasia nodded bleakly "Yes, my family had the largest house in our city, the being appeared we were given the option of leaving immediately or being burned by vengeful light."

"Ah." Shatter commented.

"My father caught his foot on a rug and tripped, my mother turned back to help him up." she shifted with the memory of the loss, instinctively leaning against the strange boy, seeking the comfort of another. Her words stayed firm "The light burned through them both, I had been helping polish the entrance door when it happened. I only had to dodge to the side to avoid the deadly light."

Shatter continued watching the stars, finally speaking "Burning Suns are not forgiving, from what I have heard from some of the undead any one of the Suns can even be cruel while claiming justice."

"And that thing has taken up residence in our city."

"I could help you kill it." Shatter offered.

"You can?" Anastasia gasped in relief.

"Burning Suns are the weakest." Shatter explained. "The Rotten Teeth explained it to me. We just need to drive a spike through the Burning Sun's chest."

"I thought you were traveling." She pointed out. Giving him a chance to reconsider.

"I am already wide awake, thanks to someone banging on my coffin lid."

Anastasia blushed at this. "Sorry."

"It is in the past, we must focus on the future. Let us be off."

The two walked through the streets of Metal Wood, his spike of metal and wood hidden and tied to his back. His arm interlocked with the girl's, an odd duo. Him in his grey and torn grave rags, pale flawless skin and oversized shoes. Her in mourning clothes of black lace and a parasol of the same material. The three clicks of her shoes and parasol on the cobblestones had the odd thumping accompaniment of Shatter's flopping shoes.

"Shouldn't we be sneaking through the shadows?" She hissed to her companion.

"No point." Shatter responded with a casual wave at a confused passerby. "Suns can sense threats to their domain. As soon as we decided to kill them, they knew of the plan and know where we are right now, and I can tell you they won't be inviting us to cheese and crumpets."

"What?!" she hissed a little louder, terror trying to creep into her voice. A dozing alley cat was woken from his perch on a windowsill and gave the girl a reproachful glare. Turning back to sleep as the loud creatures moved away.

Shatter patted her hand "It's fine, we know of this, which allows us to control the battlefield. Best to know how many foes we will have to deal with. Speaking of which..."

Three younger men rounded a corner, swords of light and crystal pulled from sheathes as they approached. "Hello, we are here to vanquish your master. You can stand in our way or leave and we have tea and crumpets later."

"What?" one of the men asked in uncertainty.

Another man growled "Ignore the riddles of the dead. Cleanse him with burning light!" he lifted his sword and charged the lad.

The boy Shatter threw a pebble, striking the man's eye, sending him howling to the ground. With a flopping of shoes he kicked one off sending it beneath one man's foot, sending him slamming into the side of a building with a bone breaking crash.

The final one unleashed a beam of sunlight from the pommel of his sword. Screaming some nonsense of eradicating the unholy. Shatter dropped to the ground as he tripped Anastasia, the line of deadly energy passing over them harmlessly. Shatter threw his remaining shoe at the brilliantly lit attacker. The man took it full in the face, his light flickering out as he lost focus. He stumbled back, staring in shock as the shoe bounced to the ground. Not noticing as the red blood coursed from his nostrils.

His mind still unfocused as the pale boy grabbed a discarded piece of wood. Destroying his kneecap with a well placed swing.

Shatter and Anastasia gathered the various artifacts of light and broke them into useless pieces of metal and glass.

The Burning Sun slammed into the ground with an explosive boom trailed by spinning fire. The Burning Sun had transparent moth wings composed of light and fire.