Kicking the glaring rock in my path away, I sighed.

"Where did he go?"

He could have at least brought me home. I had to walk all the way from the Aegis to home!

Sometimes, I hated my dad.

I sighed.

As I traversed across the town and toward my home, I gazed at the lake, shimmering in the drowning sun on the horizon.

Noticing that it was getting darker, I hurried my pace, scuttling through the people. As I moved closer to my house, I noticed that the number of people was increasing.

'What? Did something happen?' I thought.

Squinting my eyes, I sprang forth, pushing the people away.

"Excuse me . . . excuse me . . . I'm sorry . . . sorry . . ." I said whenever I noticed the people glare at me as pushed past them.

As the smell of burning wood wafted inside my nose, my pupils constricted, and my stomach churned.

This all reminded me of the Rand incident. An incident I didn't want to reminisce about. Especially since it reminded me of Ash.

Trying to push the people in front of and failing miserably. I felt that my strength was insufficient, so I shuffled through my pocket and downed three pieces of Dor.

Then, I pushed the people away, which was quite easy due to my Dor-enhanced strength.

As the sizzling noise of fire intensified, a horrible thought popped inside my mind.

I toppled over the people with a thundering explosion from my feet.

The surroundings turned quiet, or should I say, the people turned quiet.

As I lurched towards my house, my mind numbed.

It was on fire . . .

My mind blanked, and my body exploded into flames.

This was the first time I'd transformed.

I hastily hovered over to my house, and consumed all the fire there was.

It was an instinctual, primal feeling. I knew I could just do it.

As the fire got sucked inside me, I heard some shouts behind me.

"STOP HIM! Stop the coward's son!"

"YES! Don't let that cowards family survive!" another bellowed, his voice laced with contempt.

There were even more noises resounding from behind, which I'd promptly ignored, as my mind was occupied with a certain thought.

'What did they say? Coward's son? Coward's family.'

As confusion dawned over my mind, I didn't stop until the fire was extinguished.

The house crumbled down, and a wave of air blasted the debris away, revealing my sister, Leia, and mother, Kiara, along with Caleb, my bother-in-law.

Seeing my mom's condition, my flames flickered.

She was injured and burned, quite badly so.

As my confusion got overwhelmed by anger, anger at whoever had done it, I morphed back to my human form, glaring at the people behind me.

"Who did this?" I asked.

No one answered. Suddenly, one of the people ran towards me, a flintlock in his hands.

"Shut up, you coward!" He roared.

I raised my hand and burned Dor.

Then, transforming back into my flame form, I loomed over to him.

He was a soldier.

I burned him alive, with my own flames.

"AAAAARGHH" he screamed, melting into a gory mess. I did not blink—not that I could In this form—I wanted to see him burn in agony, watch on as life seeped out of him.

My stomach churned and I wanted to stop, but I didn't.

I hadn't killed before and I never wanted to. this wasn't necessary, but who could have told me? we make mistakes and suffer from their implications.

I watched him burn to death.

Sometimes, I regret this decision. Maybe, If I hadn't done this, I could have enjoyed more of my childhood.

But, what's done is done.

After a while, he burned to death.

Morphing back, I gulped more pieces of Dor.

"Leave," I said, my voice quivering as I thumped my foot on the ground. A thundering explosion resounded as cracks formed on the ground.

The people were quiet.

Anger, resentment, and fear were evident in their eyes. After getting a glare from me, they ran away.

I turned around, sighing, and cracked a 'smile'.

But the moment I looked, I saw my mom stare at me with the same gaze the people were giving me.

I stiffened.

Fear.

***

Bolting up from my bed, I breathed heavily as sweat trickled down my forehead.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Haah, haaa . . . " Heaving up and down, my face slumped in my hands.

Massaging my forehead, I fell back on the bed as I stared at the ceiling.

'What . . . what a terrible dream.'

***

Rebecca Von Ainsworth walked across the hall, stopping in front of a familiar door.

She was angry. Fuming even. Ansel, her fiancé, was an asshole.

He'd taken the others to her room even though he knew it was hers.

She had wanted to beat him up for it, though she couldn't in the end.

She was, however, more confused than angry. The boy . . . She'd forgotten to ask his name, hadn't she?

Though now that she thought about it, it might have been that the pretty boy did not want to indulge his identity.

Anyway. He had a stigma. That in itself wasn't a problem. But, he had the stigma of the elven royal family.

'Only the direct descendants of the royal families have the stigmas.' She thought.

It was a fact. Only the direct descendant of any royal family had a stigma, or so she'd been told.

But that's where the problem was.

The boy didn't have the stigma of any other royal family, he had the stigma of the elven royal family.

That was just impossible.

Though if her father had an illegitimate child . . .

As the thought dawned on her, she couldn't help but stiffen slightly.

'No . . . That couldn't be right?' she thought. Her father wouldn't do something like that, would he?

She knew, for a fact, that the heir of any royal family was not supposed to willingly or unwillingly, impregnate any other woman than his supposed wife.

This was a written rule.

So, she was sure that her father wouldn't do something like that. Even though her mother had died a long time ago, she believed that her father was loyal to her mother.

Even when the nobles had insisted that he should marry a woman, going against all rules, her father had vehemently disagreed.

So now, when an unknown pretty boy appeared out of nowhere and had her family's stigma, she was angry.

She knew that speculating on her own was detrimental, more so when this was all but just a speculation without any evidence to back it up.

But even so, she was a little sour.

She sighed and promised to herself that she wouldn't let it cloud her judgment, who knew, she could be entirely wrong about the situation.

She hoped that she was wrong.

So, taking a long breath, she knocked on the door.

It was ironic really, how this was the one room she'd been ordered to not enter when she was young.

Her father had never let her in, he'd told her that she was too young. Too naive. She'd obviously disagreed, rebelled even.

Though she knew she'd been an idiot, she never regretted rebelling. If she hadn't, she'd have never met Ansel.

Though, back then, she had definitely been childish and too naive.

After some moments, a deep and muffled voice came from behind the door.

"Come in." The voice was aloof, and elegant, like always.

Rebeca smiled lightly as she entered.

As soon as she entered, the smell of books permeated the air and wafted inside her nose.

Books. A lot of books. That's what anyone would say upon entering. She wondered why she'd been so adamant about entering inside this room back then.

Gazing past the books, her vision halted on a figure sitting on a chair. A book in his hand.

[Guide to Edians' culture] to be more specific

He wore square glasses, embroidered inside a golden frame—on which, intricate engravings lay upon.

Her father had golden blonde hair, resting on his shoulder, eyes a penetrating honey-colored. A muscular build, as though it had been intricately shaped with elegance.

Uriel Von Ainsworth, the current king of Elvon. A powerhouse. A formidable man. That's what they called him.

Je was nothing but a doting father to her though.

He might show a front to others, but she was sure that he'd been hit hard by her mother's death.

"Ah, Becky. Come sit." He smiled upon seeing her.

She sat without permission. She did not need it. She knew too well how much her father hated it when she, or Feyrith, did ask for the permission on simple matters.

He'd specifically said that he didn't care about such etiquette when they were in his presence, especially when they were alone.

Even when the other races were technologically advanced, the elves remained behind. The Elves clung to their old ways, after all.

It just remained on the outside, though. The old-styled houses, structures, and everything else were just for show.

"I heard what happened to Feyfey. You did well, inviting the young man for the night," He praised.

Her smile faltered when she heard it.

Feyrith had asked him to stay, it hadn't even crossed her mind. Not even once. She'd been a bit too emotional at the time.

She'd been worried. Her one and only little bother, Feyfey, had vanished. She had been worried to death.

Though she wouldn't correct her father. Free praise was always welcome, of course.

"Father . . . " She said, quietening down. "I want to say something."

"Go ahead dear," He said, setting the book in his hand down on the table while he took off his glasses with his other hand.

Massaging his eyes, he leaned back.

She hesitated. Uncertain on how to go about it.

In the end, she just sighed, telling him straight away.

"He has a stigma . . . "

The king of the elves blinked his eyes, looking straight at his daughter.

". . . That's it?" he tilted his head. Was that it? Stigmas weren't that rare. He knew that much, at least.

"Stigmas aren't as rare as you think Becky. Aside from the royal families, even a commoner can form a stigma if he manages to tap into his bloodline therein forming a stigma." Explained Uriel.

That was absolutely true.

If the said commoner had even a smidgen of higher ancestral blood running in his veins, and if he managed to awaken that is.

His lovely daughter shook her head, saying just after, "That's not what I mean."—she sat down on the chair, playing with the stress relief ball on it while saying so—"the stigma is of our royal bloodline. I am sure. I saw it with my own eyes."

Hearing Becky spout something impossible, Uriel squinted his eyes.

That was certainly impossible.

He hadn't touched a woman after his wife's death. There couldn't be an illegitimate child, not his.

He sighed.

'Another situation to deal with, just . . . Awesome.' he thought.

He wasn't oh-so-happy about it. He had been quite busy recently, with the affairs of his kingdom.

Then, his son got kidnapped. And now, when he'd finally thought that he'd get some rest, a no-name boy appeared out of nowhere. And to top it off, he had a stigma.

"Haah." He sighed again, rubbing his tired eyes.

He needed some much-needed rest. No, he wanted some rest.

After pondering for a while, he came to a decision.

"Don't worry." He reassured, not his daughter but himself.

"Go get some rest, we'll talk about it tomorrow." He said.

Yes, he'd surely get some rest.

Becky nodded, taking out a small white cube-like object and putting it down on the table.

"Here's his picture. I took it after I saw his stigma." She said and stood up, shuffling out of the room.

Uriel sat there, silently. Musing to himself about the implications brought by the current situation.

He sighed, taking out something from under the drawer.

A round disk-like object. White in color, with a sky-blue cubical light in the middle. As he pushed a button, the disk vibrated in a simple rhythm following a tempo.

He was calling someone.

He waited.

***

Cassius Von Ainsworth sat in a sauna, enjoying himself while he sighed in bliss.

Oh, how he loved his life. Even when his wife had long passed onto the great beyond, he lived his life how he'd promised her he would.

A life full of comfort, and bliss.

"Haaa. This. Is. Just. Lovely." A voice filled with ecstasy resounded beside him. Every single word slurred.

"A lady in my arms would've been even better. Alas"—the figure sighed in raspy contentment, looking down—"these bones are too old to stand proud . . . "

Cassius Von Ainsworth wished that his life would have been a life full of comfort, and bliss.

But, as long as this bastard was alive, that seemed impossible.

"For the love of god, Kal. Will you shut up and enjoy? I can engage an elf or two to give you some stimulation if you wish, just shut the f*ck up." Cassius, the former king of Elvon, sighed. His voice was a slur of unhappiness.

"Okay. That doesn't seem like-"

A sound resounded, reverberating in a smooth but annoying rhythm.

But as time passed, the rhythm turned to something else.

The orchestra of rings continued in a mix of mismatched notes of symphonies as if comparing their vocal might.

'For the love of,' Cassius thought, turning around and picking his assailant.

As he pushed a button on the Comunicod, he sighed in contentment.

The annoying noise was, finally, gone.

As the familiar visage of his son appeared, Cassius sighed yet again, but in a regretful manner this time.

"What is it, Uriel?" He asked. Uriel, his son, had a complicated but tired look on his face.

"You're overworking again, aren't you?" Cassius sighed. "How many times have I told-"

"Father! Get your ass out of the sauna! This is important-"

"Yeah, yeah. Let me be the outlet of it all. Load it out now," Cassius interrupted.

As a vein bulged on his son's forehead, Cassius grinned, getting up.

Getting out of the sauna, he covered his lower regions with a towel, using another to clean his body.

"Now, tell me, what happened, will you?"

Cassius asked after wearing a robe, which covered the whole of his body. He was buttoning it up when he heard a response.

"yeah so, recently," Uriel began slowly. "Feyfey was kidnapped . . . "

Cassius stiffened.

"What did you say?"