*Woosh Woosh Woosh*

Fluctuations in the air could be heard as a silhouette was seen running through the wind.

The man's feet seemed like if they were gliding above the ground as he made his way past trees, until he spotted an open spot in the valley at the base of a mountain.

“This will do”, thought the man.

Although his face was pale and arms were slightly shaking, he made his way into the clearing and looked down towards his chest.

There lay a little baby who was wrapped in an originally white rag, which was now dyed red with blood coming from the wound on the man's chest. A deep cut 2 inches wide ran the length of the man's torso starting from the left shoulder and ending near his right hip.

Putting the baby gently on the ground, he quickly ran his hand across the injury on his chest. His hand emitted faint heat as the wound slowly closed up while a crisp noise was heard. Disregarding the pain caused from melting his flesh back together, he made his way across the clearing to where there was a small lake. The man put his face over the clear lake to see his reflection.

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His face lacked color. His eyes devoid of life.

A single tear ran down his face as it caused a ripple in the water while he muttered quietly the codes which were passed down from generations, the sacred codes which he and everyone in his clan lives by or ‘lived’ by…

“Never bow, never fear”

“You are powerless, when the end is near”

“Tzaar is living, within us all”

“When you rise”

“They will fall”

The ripple in the lake settled down as the face of the man was seen again, yet this time his eyes were filled with completely different emotions.

Anger, pain, frustration but most importantly, a new found purpose.

His figure disappeared from near the lake and reappeared next to the baby.

Looking into those young brown eyes of the, unexpectedly, calm baby; the man spoke in a hopeful tone, “Forgive me for being useless and giving you these burdens but you must overcome the shortcomings of your father and bring us to light again, Warrick.”