In the middle of a bustling town, a hooded figure was standing over two smaller figures, a child with two smaller children beside him. The carriage dropped them off in front of a large iron gate. They had dirty and worn clothing but were comparatively better than the street children that Metas saw running around in the roads and alleyways.

The three of them stepped forward but were stopped by the two guards that were standing in front of them. Then a man stepped out of the carriage and said: “I brought them.” He said in a quiet, but booming voice. The guards stepped back as the large man walked in front of the children. As the guards opened the gates, the large man smiled and loudly proclaimed to them: “Welcome! To your new home, from now on you’ll train as knights, and live here with other recruits or otherwise younger recruits.” He turned to them with a smile on his face.

As Siegmund faced them, Metas met his grin with a cautious and serious expression. His siblings held onto his clothing, uneasy. Metas said nothing. “Good, good. You are cautious, and protective of your younger brother and sister. Traits you need to serve as effective knights, shields that protect the people of this kingdom.” He proceeded without them, walking towards the doorstep of the building while saying: “I’m going. Since I already officially claimed you from the orphanage its doubtful if they would take you back. To me, it looked like you guys were a load I took off their backs. You’re free to walk back into the streets if you want to, or you could follow me.” He spoke quietly with a serious expression.

But then erupted into uproarious laughter and exclaimed: “Gahaha! That was a joke!” He turned back around to them. Young Sethan tugged at Metas’ shirt and then he whispered something to him. Metas nodded, while Asralyn only looked up towards the both of them. Metas then led the two towards the entrance, and towards where Siegmund stood.

“Why did you pick up those kids in particular?” A curious colleague of Sigmund asked him. “I first got acquainted with them because of an incident I got called upon on. It’s the oldest one I wanted to take in. But he wouldn’t come along without the others.” He answered. “But you’ve heard of the rumors? Specifically, about that boy of yours…” “I don’t believe in superstition, nor gossip. There is a fire in that boy, a burning fire, a will to hold on.” “If you say so.” “Believe me, I was there.” He thought back to the time he first met Metas.

Metas was dropped off at an orphanage when he was exceedingly young along with his siblings. Sethan was barely aware, and Asralyn was little more than an infant. But Metas was aware, he knew even before where they came from but did not speak a word of it. He was set apart from his siblings from his unusual hair color. Grey hair at a young age, an ill omen, a sign of bad luck. It was said to be a sign of one whose life was already taken ahead of their time, someone who was unlucky or unlucky to be around. But the other children did not care about the meaning of the superstition, but mainly the fact that he looked different.

He constantly kept watch over his siblings, not participating when the others played but keeping a close eye onto them. There was a routine and system put into place by the orphanage. It was managed by stern and serious women, figures who enforced the rules and managed with a strictness, as the amount of children was nigh-unbearable to them if they would run rampant. Waking up early in the morning, dining together in a hall with long tables for a meal, but then their strictness would only extend to denying them of certain freedoms that were allotted to them in certain times only, or sticking them in a room for a duration of time.

There was a room where they taught them half-baked lessons about the doctrines of the kingdom and the most basic of lessons taught to others in schools, but was mostly restricted to keeping them from going or doing anything else. In between, or perhaps also during their activities the children would play or otherwise talk much to the efforts of forbidding them of doing so. Metas would unlikely be joining any other in conversation except from him and his siblings.

Wonder and joy had escaped from his eyes, and were different from Sethan and Asralyn in interacting with the others. As he avoided the others, others avoided him, he scarcely made contact with others leading them to harbor resentment in talking behind his back. General unease and dislike formed around him. “He’s a good person, he just doesn’t want to talk to people.” As they grew a bit older, Sethan constantly vouched for his brother who did not do so for himself.

Asralyn did not know her brother much, only keeping silent when asked about him. Nevertheless, she felt a sense of security and protection from him. Until years had passed, and he was confronted by a few of the older boys, tired of his quiet skulking and uneasy of his presence for an extended period. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?” Metas only walked backwards. “They say something’s wrong with you, that you’re cursed. “ “You look nothing like your siblings, are you even related to them? Maybe you took them from their parents?”

The biggest one walked up to Metas and gave him a shove. “Hey, stop!” Sethan came running in, small in stature but got in between them. “Why do you keep defending him? He’s not even your brother.” He answered. “Go away from my brother!” Sethan yelled, pushing the other boy back. “Hey.” Said Metas. “So now you’re going to talk. Tired of letting your ‘little brother’ talking for you.” One of them teased, angering Sethan. Asralyn was watching them from a distance, worried but not exactly sure what to do.

Metas then instantly looked up towards him straight in the eye. As Metas began to walk forward with a serious expression, somebody else came between them, trying to stop them both. “You two, stop fighting!” “You go away, outsider.” “One foreigner defending another?” “How about you two freaks stick with each other.” The boys insulted the girl who tried to stop them from fighting. She was another who was shunned by the others, she was different from the children of the orphanage because of her darker shade of skin.

She waved them away and they walked off, mumbling, and grumbling insults. Metas and Sethan began to leave but the girl spoke to them. “Um… I’m Kieron, what are your names?” She was looking down towards the ground. Metas did not answer but Sethan soon spoke. “I’m Sethan and this is my brother Metas, he is a good person!” Kieron looked up towards Metas, and they looked at each other momentarily before Metas walked off into the corner.

Sethan ran off and Asralyn went towards him, clinging on his clothes, worried. Kieron looked at Metas as he walked off, and then turned around. As the day passed, Metas kept to himself. He answered questions or queries made to him by the adults with only one-word answers, and politely refused Sethan’s requests to play, who was in still good standing with the other children despite a few disgruntled looks from the others.

Kieron only silently watched them for the duration of the day, having no friends to talk or turn to. At some days, there was a gathering or a stirring up between the girls of the orphanage, either due to boredom or agitation, and went towards Kieron. Sethan noticed as she was teased and shoved around by them, he walked towards Metas and tugged on his clothing, drawing the attention of the distant-gazing Metas. Metas lowered his head as his brother whispered something to him, making him turn his head towards Kieron.

“Isn’t she the one who was nice to us yesterday? We should help her, or something…" Said Sethan. Metas paid little notice to Kieron through the years, even as she was teased and harassed by the others. The ones who were teasing her were confused as Metas walked over to them, they briefly talked amongst themselves before walking off, spiteful. “Thank… you.” Kieron shyly stated. Metas was once again looking off into the distance. He started to walk away before he quietly said: “You’re welcome.”

As he walked away, there was a small smile on Kieron’s face as she watched Metas go. But that night, when she slept, Metas was suddenly made awake by hushed yelling and loud whispers in the night. He turned over in his bed towards a faint light in the darkness of the room, one of the children were holding a lit candelabra which illuminated faintly. “You freak! What are you!” “Give it back, give it back!” A gathering was occurring beside Kieron’s bed, angry faces of the other kids and Kieron had a worried and saddened expression as the others were trying to pull away an item from her hands.

As Metas squinted to get a better look at it, he saw that it was a small doll of simple makeshift construction. It had hair made of straw, a face made by a cloth covering some misshapen circular object, its eyes buttons, and its clothes another piece of cloth stitched together. Metas listened more closely to what they were saying. A few more of the children crowded near Kieron’s bed he heard more of about the situation. “What happened? What did she do again?” “She took my doll!” “No, its mine, I made it myself!” Kieron pleaded. “She’s a monster! She disappeared for a second when I tried to hit her, she’s a ghost!” “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Kieron exclaimed.

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Metas emerged from the darkness, like a looming ominous figure, and confronted them silently. The other children stepped back, and had angry looks on their faces, he ignored them and turned to Kieron. “Give it back.” He stated. Kieron met his gaze and shyly released her grip allowing the precious item to be taken from her hands. But then, Metas was pushed back by one of them from out of his sight.

He staggered backwards but still looked towards the ground and was silent. “Stay away!” Kieron yelled. As she spoke, one of those who had confronted Metas earlier stepped forward, and was preparing to raise their hands against her, seeing this Metas quickly looked up towards them. Metas stepped forward and shot out a quick strike, hitting his face and knocking him down to the ground. Kieron was shocked, agitated. And so were the others who were taken aback and retreated in shock. Metas turned to Kieron and quietly said: “Go.”

As soon as he spoke, screaming, crying, and running ensued. After some time had passed, Kieron was outside the building, crouched beside a window and peeking into the inside. She could hear more screaming and a scuffle ongoing inside, and as she looked inside, she saw Metas being held up by some of the older boys in the orphanage, he was bruised and injured but was not struggling against them, then the adults who managed the place entered the room and loudly asked about the situation, she could hear a mix of insults, accusations and a hint of the truth from their conversation.

It started to rain loudly and made the ground outside a muddy surface. Kieron pressed up against the building as to not be reached by encroaching buildup of water. She snuck around, afraid of going inside and running towards the back of the orphanage when the doors opened and they looked outside, trying to search for her. They thought this was fruitless as it was decided to be a hassle to search for her in the night and concluded that she would have to return eventually. When she decided to look back in, she saw Metas being reprimanded, bruised, and beaten, receiving lashings as punishment.

Metas looked towards the window, and Kieron met his gaze. He mouthed the words he had said earlier, ‘Go.’ And Kieron immediately understood what he meant, and she turned around and ran into the night and never turned back. In the morning after, he was covered in bruises on his face and his shirt stuck to his back, stains of blood clearly apparent. He had a grim expression, but did not appear to be saddened, his brother Sethan ran up to him with tears in his eyes.

He mumbled but could not form a coherent word, he turned around and ran towards those who had bullied them the day before. The children stared at Metas in silence and in scorn, they looked at him like some sort of inhuman beast, disgusted at his mere presence. Sethan ran towards them and angrily formed words through his tears. “What did you do to him? Why did you hurt him?” They looked down on him. “Stay away from him, he’s dangerous.” “If you end up like him, you’ll get punished and lashed too.” “He made her disappear, she’s probably dead out there, we have nothing if we’re not here.” Sethan gritted his teeth and balled his fist.

Asralyn was looking on worried, but she did not know what to do and didn't think she could step in. Sethan took a feeble punch onto one of their arms, and they smirked. “It looks like you’re his brother after all.” He then raised his hand over the small Sethan, ready to take a punch. Metas stepped back into the room where they were in, having retrieved something from one of the storerooms. It was a tool, a long stick with a thread attached to its tip, and a tiny hook tied to the end of the thread. Metas stood with a serious expression, holding a fishing rod. “Looks like somebody didn’t learn their lesson. Call them and tell them he needs another-“ He was cut off when the hook sailed through the air and mad a tiny cut on his raised fist. “Ow!” He yelled, a few of the boys ran up to him to try to attack Metas, who struck them with the rod and brought them to the ground with ease.

The boy near Sethan picked up a fork laying on a table nearby and put it against Sethan. “Don’t move, or else I’ll have to hurt him!” He yelled. Metas used the thread of the fishing rod to wrap around his hand, and with a swift pull he knocked the fork out of his hand, and then rushed in and whacked him on the head with the pommel of the rod. He picked up Sethan, glanced quickly at Asralyn and then at a nearby window.

“What did he do?!” The old head mistress entered the room, with the whip in hand. A window was open, Sethan and Asralyn was also missing along with Metas. She noticed the damage and the injured boys and immediately went outside. “Guards, guards! Where are the guards, there’s someone dangerous here!” She yelled to the streets. “Hmm? What dangerous individual?” A large man in armor was passing by and overheard. “Sir knight please, you have to help us!” She pleaded.

Metas, Sethan and Asralyn was sitting next to the river. Metas loosed the thread of the fishing rod into the water, not caring that it did not have any bait. Sethan was clinging next to Metas, quietly watching the fishing rod go into the water, teary eyed. Asralyn was sitting near them, looking at her reflection and playing in the water. Siegmund slowly walked towards them. “Hey, are you Metas?” He asked. Metas quickly pulled back the fishing rod and turned around, pointing it at Siegmund. “Were you the one who made the trouble back there? And all with just a fishing rod…” Siegmund exclaimed.

Metas saw his armor and his concealed weapon, and to him he was just another adult looking to punish him for his actions. He put his siblings behind him and stood undaunted, he cared little about his well-being but did not want to risk the others’ safety. “Proficiency and ease with a weapon, and a strong will to protect others… Hmm. Sounds like the best traits that could encapsulate a knight. Would you care to join our ranks?” Siegmund asked. Metas only squinted and remained silent. “I’ve already figured it out with the head mistress and they’re more than happy to take you off their hands, well... Its not like they’ll take you back.” Metas sensed that this was not a mere kindness but realized that he could not return to the orphanage as well.

“They come with me.” Metas plainly and calmly issued his demand. “But first off, hand over that fishing rod, they want it back.” Metas paused for a moment, and then slowly walked towards him and cautiously handed it over. Suddenly, Siegmund held his palm out and a giant fireball erupted atop his fingertips. Instinctively, Metas hopped backwards and then held his hand facing Siegmund. A tiny spark appeared on his palm. Siegmund extinguished his flame and began to laugh heartily. “Gahaha, t’was just a simple test!” He patted Metas on the back, but the boy did not flinch, he was busy looking at the tiny spark that formed above his hand. Metas then closed his palm.

Siegmund then called a carriage for them when they reached the road. They arrived and Siegmund opened the door of the large building, and let the siblings in. Sethan marveled and was at awe, looking all around from the stone walls to the high ceiling. Asralyn was looking up to her brothers in comfort, and Metas was cautiously surveying their surroundings. For him this was just another building he lived under on, another set of challenges and individuals to overcome. The building where they accepted and raised possible recruits was near the great castle. There was someone watching Metas’ arrival, from a window high up, intently surveying as he walked from the carriage and right as they entered the barracks.

Serafion strained her eyes, holding her hand up to her temple, her fingers surrounded in the abyssal liquid. Red roots were beginning to emerge into her eyes, as she stared down at them. She saw even further before and saw the lights in their core representing their souls glowing. Metas glowed the brightest among them. “He’s back. I guess you can’t separate someone from their fate, or a being from their birthplace.” “Hmm? You mean the one of ‘ill omen’? I thought you didn’t believe in superstition?” Helia asked.

“There’s a certain truth to beliefs, only observable by a repeated application and slight tampering of universal laws. That gene doesn’t look like its directly passed down from parent to child in most cases, and is caused by an imbalance in the universe, powers that ‘bless’ or maybe ‘curse’ an individual at birth.” “I don’t really understand all of that, can you say it in simpler terms?” “Powers from beyond meddled, causing the impact of certain individuals to be greater in their surrounding world.” “Impact? Could he be a threat?” Helia asked. “Well, not yet. I would like to observe longer before making a conclusion.” “Interesting...” The princess remarked. “Well, its time to get to your training…” Serafion said, looking away and beginning to walk away from the window.

Helia drew her sword from a sheathe she carried and raised it upwards. “When will I be ready?” She asked Serafion. “Soon, I told you that it would be difficult to depose your father from the throne.” Suddenly, a fire sparked coating the sword’s blade in a fiery blaze. “We shall burn him off of it.” The moment the flame erupted on her sword, Metas felt a chill along his spine, as he looked upwards, in the direction past the roof of the building they were staying on. He only then noticed that his hand had produced flame causing a spark that had already started to burn his clothes. He frantically patted it down, as Sethan gave him confused looks.

He looked around the building trying to find the source of the malice. He sighed and looked back at Siegmund who was waiting for them expectantly. As he walked forward, he sensed the same type of malice emanating from the knight. Metas clenched his fists to push down the malice he was feeling inside himself.