Chapter 1

Revenge Served Over An Inferno!

In the shadows, I live. In The light, my plans lay exposed. My body is my temple, my fingers my many machinations.My pain is your Misfortune.Who am I?

-Excerpt from the Red Foe. 1201 Yolan rule

~Nine Hours later, Orphanage of Dove Port, Moon phase~

A city ran orphanage burned in the background. Men, women ran about, spells were cast, attempting to quell the blaze.

Soldiers in king livery cast spells from a distance. The heat of the fire was intense. The Sheriffs couldn't even approach shielded.

The blaze seemed alive, it ravaged places sporadically, only to burn another area and return like a predator in the night to consume the previous left meal.

Children were huddled distance away, soot marred their faces, still in their thread bare sleep attire, they shivered from the chilly wind that blew and shrieked from the heat from the flame as it blew toward them.

The bright red-orange flames rapidly ate away at the orphanage, townspeople came out of their homes, questioning those before them, some grabbed buckets or cast what little they could. But, the majority came to watch, to gossip.

A well dress men was screaming at a motherly figure, he was adamantly pointing toward a three story manor illuminate in the backdrop from the flame.

She had her hands raised, placating the lord,telling him the fire would be contained. The sheriffs were here. His face distorted at her reassurance. She looked around, searching for a face. Where was he?

Three men appeared out the night, bird mask s adorned their faces, the man at the forefront had an owl mask own. It seemed alive, but the lord and lady chalked it up to magic.

He bowed to the lord and questioned the lady, two men of similar appearance were standing behind him awaiting orders.

They talked for few minutes. The motherly figure face darkened. She nodded, the lord smiled. Finally the damn orphanage would be gone, he would miss the added benefit of useful subjects to utilize in his pursuits.

He had other means of getting his supply. No longer will this blot out his morning sunrise. The unruly, common slags wouldn't attempt to enter his land to hunt and wreck his property.

He took from his side a burgundy pouch. He hefted it playfully in his hands in front of the lady, who looked back toward the rapidly burning orphanage and the jingling pouch, she nodded. He tossed it toward her uncaringly, the bag missed her hand, by design.

The contents spilled out on the ground. Her elderly figure squatted after lifting her dress to retrieve the contents, a couple gold coins, a few silvers and majority copper.

She suddenly thought how convenient it was for him to have the exact amount on hand. She disregarded the thought she knew who caused the fire.

The lord looked toward the bird-masked men. He tossed another bag toward them he had sequestered on himself.

The bag disappeared before the same thing happened as the lady. They nodded and walked toward the building.

A child barely over a meter tall was perched upon a wall. He used the elder tree and the gaurs shack to scaled the meters taller wall. He need a high viewpoint, he owed it to them to watch the orphanage burn.

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A sick, twisted place. The orphanage might as well been covered in blood of the countless unsuspecting children that fail to its walls. It was nothing but a front, the children were usually sold into slavery.

He wondered if the king knew he was responsible for hundreds of lives every year. His sponsoring of a orphanage that moonlighted as slave ring.

He shivered, remembering his captivity at the lords manor, the screams, smells; the smells he still couldn't get out his nose, the sounds of children being experimented on. The nobles who came to purchase finished products. His fist tightened.

His short life he had been at the end of a rope, barely fed, even by the orphanage standards, beaten by the kids because his strange appearance. He remembered the principal of the orphanage, he smiled. His teeth were pointed, his tongue was pronged.

The principal, buried in a shallow grave. Upon his escape he made sure he made the man suffer for what he did, what had had always done. The children in his cell made him promise.

"I have done right by you all." His small voice hiss into the night.

His slanted eyes squinted, a faint glow permeated his iris.

The fire blazed on. The first responders were crouched distance away drinking potions and being seen to by men and women in white flowing robes. They long ago gave up. The fire seemed like it was fueled by some unknown source.

The three men walked near the building, wards were place before them, the heat and sparks from the blaze splattered the blue shields.

They pushed onwards, until their shield were blazing blue against the fiery red of the flame that seemed to focus on burning the place to ash.

Their hands were rapidly moving, their lips moved in synch. A low hum permeated them. Fire born, not. To much unlike the fire consuming the orphanage darted from the front man hand.

The second man had a red orb that spun rapidly, it launched toward a section of the orphanage. The third man mouth opened, a gout of flame hissed from his gaped mouth, snapping toward the orphanage.

The youth smiled. He never seen magic being used by mages before. He didn't know why these wore masks but he enjoyed the show. He especially like the man method of spewing it from his mouth.

Booom!

A loud explosion drenched the area, the spells impacted the inferno. The orphanage crumbled under the might of the mages. Age old method, fight fire with fire.

Dove port infamous orphanage, home to rumors and speculations lit up the night as the last remnants of the building crumbled, leaving a smoldering a volcanic ground.

The towns people let out a cheer, more at witnessing mages at work, the children looked around. Their minders wondered why none were sad but they could see smirks on their face.

Since the orphanage was king funded they would be shipped closer toward the Capitol to a more stable location, some of the kids thanked the strange boy. Others regretted mistreating him, some didn't care. The majority glad they escaped their dark fate.

The spot was vacant, the youth gone. A figure could be seen racing across the lords manor roof, a brown sack placed over his back, a sinister smile on his face.

'Revenge' he thought. He leaped from the the second story, after he tossed the bag first. He rolled across the well manicured grass, snatch the bag and continued his sprint.

He sprinted on a sodden path that lead toward the city proper, the orphanage was on the outskirt, Dove-port. The lord was located directly behind the orphanage placed their by the former king because the lord of the city angered him over a minor dispute.

On his small waist was a small rusted dagger that dangled on an old string that served as belt to his thread bare pants. He was barefoot, his clothes were heavily tattered, he was smiling regardless of his ragged appearance. He lept upon the gate wall, his hands finding purchase in stony surface.

He slid down the other side of wall, his claw like nails scraped into it, the bag dangling in his other hand, draped over his shoulder, the way the light played off of him and the unnatural glow of his eyes.

If a person saw him they would swear he was some wight stealing into the night. He carved his final mark into a place that was never a home to him.

It was a dark night. One could slip over their on feet. The light from the blaze now gone. The night was now returning to the moon embrace. His eyes glowed; reflecting the light of the moon.

[Gift of the night: Able to see in the dark, as if its day]

The moonlight illuminate his figure more visibility as he stepped from the shaded area like a wraith. Moonlight shined off of his face. He was petite, his hair was oily black, long tied up behind him, a few strands played war above brow. He smiled, showing pointed teeth. The light flickered and the boy was gone.