A mind swept clean by heavens gale stood before Ugin. Who without a gear turning in his head save a screaming wheel unbound the string noosed around its neck and placed it within his label. A mind free would find itself rock and sink to the bottom unhindered by currents of doubt. But this mind wept and thrashed his arms filling the ladle and finding its way to the top. The mind finding itself amongst the white caps would feel the pull of a string once again noosed around its neck. Ugin pitied the soul and swung his ladle downward. Dispensing the waves amongst the void and leaving the soul bound again to the living. Men say that that first breath above the water was proof of being human; the urge to fight, to live. That even after being stripped of all a man remembered he still had a will. Those men had left too early to see Ugin weep filling up the ladle to see his sorrow; even free of all man knew they were still afraid and still full of sorrow.
Upon taking his first breath the mind found itself face to beak with a crow. Its black eyes inspected the child with a soft gaze. The crow took a step back to reveal the body of a man. He was a Jesp a messenger of Ugin. The Jesp picked up his iron that had once been sitting in cold fires and branded the child with the mark of sin.
Man was molded from clay, molded from the hands of two crafters. So when Jesps the workers of Ugin would fly down from the heavens and place a child upon the earth in its ivory casket it's seen as unnatural. The mark was a finishing blow it would be impossible to forget how the body was created.
As a cradle was yielded down from the heavens and onto a busy street not a single person could break from their path to look at the spectacle. The child found that people had done their best to forget about the mark, which would have pleased him had he known anything more than any other child would. The child found that people did their best to forget about him, which would have angered him had he known anything more than any other child would.
Had the Jesps had any pride in their work they would not have placed a child in this town or anything with a brain bigger than a button. The people here were spiteful and mutated and spiteful about their mutation. In that town, not two years before two men had gotten into an argument. One claimed their goddess Asper to have no eyes, he figured this world's goddess of justice would have to be blind, the other, a monk from the neighboring town, claimed the goddess to have three eyes, one pointed to the east and one the west, and the last looking everywhere but there. Remember that this town was spiteful before they were spiteful about their mutations and thus the argument got heated. This was not the first time an argument had erupted in this town so it was generally ignored people continued walking by as a glass, chair, or table would reach the street. The gods found this though to be a spectacle cheering, and screaming at the expense of the crippled Asper and so when a dark fog rolled over the town blocking their view not a single god was surprised.
The fog would lift to find people grown used to their deformities and when the boy was eventually adopted by two loving fish people they would teach him to hide his heart where the mark laid, just had they had their own gills.
And like so the Child grew up believing himself to be more mutated than the monsters around him, hiding and never truly expressing himself until an imp flew along and perched itself onto his shoulder.
The imp was not particularly heavy nor small just about the right size and weight for a lowly evil spirit one could forget it was there had they been recently affected with a head wound and could not hear its terrible personality. This one, in particular, seemed to think it was the devil, and sported an artificial devilish hue that smelt of chilly powder, and a short fork with particularly thin tines that wouldn't be able to carry more than a grain of rice split in half hotdog style. All and all he looked the part and the child treated him as such doing his best to either completely ignore him or swat him away with the back of his palm.
"You know even hell is not a nice place without proper connections," the imp began. "A push here a pitchfork there and boom no more afterlife," with each passing phrase the imp placed on the boy's shoulder stopping to stab or throw his arms up to tell of the emptiness that would follow. "You seem like a nice kid, you wouldn't last there without me." Finally getting a response out of the child the imp was met with a hand on its way to strike its face. Sticking his fork into the Child's collar bone lowering his body weight and flapping his wings the imp did everything in his power to hold the fork steady. The pair soon found themselves at a standstill the imp demonstrating an impossible amount of willpower to hold the much larger being at bay. As he worked tirelessly he couldn't help but feel his knees shake, and hear the fork bending even over his powerful wings. The imp sweat dripping from his brow, "You're weak" he muttered as he gathered the last of his strength for a final push.
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The child's skin displaying a greater tenacity than a cooked potato was left unmarked by the battle and the child realizing the pest was uncrushed swung his other hand to a chop. The child then quickened his step through the market. The imp after unintentionally vandalizing the pavement with chili powder followed the boy.
The imp upon catching up with the boy perched itself upon his left shoulder and waited for the child to claim his victory. The imp had decided during his flight that he would be graceful in his loss. The imp did not want to not dwindle the development of his confidence, it knew that you're supposed to let children win. When the child did not accept his victory and claim the imp a worthy opponent he was furious. He would have stabbed him a few times had he not heard something truly monstrous.
The child had stopped in the head of an ally not two blocks from the market where he and the imp had combatted. It wasn't a quiet street but it was a quiet ally or had been for almost every day of this year. On an unimportant note twice adventures had deemed there to be gold hidden under the cobblestones of this ally only to find a new passion for learning cartography.
The child lept leaving the imp behind. The imp made no rush to follow, he knew the sound at the end of the ally, and he heard the beating of a dead man. Cushioned kick without the echo of a grunt.
The child felt his legs give out when he saw the scene. There wasn't a lot of blood, he wanted there to be more blood. He wanted something to cover up his friend's eyes, his hands that didn't try to guard against the kicks, and his chest that only beat when he was.
From the sound of things, the child was the only one who had realized what had happened. When the three assailants saw the boy they began to reason in their mind that something was wrong, the child before them was the first bad omen, his weak knees the second, and only silence was the third. They didn't look down at him they couldn't not him or the child, they couldn't.
The one that had been beating him mumbled something to the child as he walked past his eyes never breaking from the end of the ally the only place anywhere but there. "This couldn't have happened, if that fucker wasn't born with gills for lungs it wouldn't have. I just wanted to see him flop around on land for a while." The assailant brought himself to look away from the exit to the ally his two friends almost already reaching the street. "If you say anything about this I'll kill you too Piter." With that, he scurried off.
Piter needed to see eye to eye with his friend who wouldn't ever be more than twelve. The imp turned from one shoulder to the next to cover his view. "Did you know him?"
Piter shoved the imp aside and placed his thumb on the neck of the corpse. He felt nothing, and when a second turned into two he began pressing the neck so hard it was all but tearing at the seams. The imp that had been flying through the air only a moment ago was quite tired of his predicament he felt too worthy and too powerful to reason with such insubordination, it's only after grappling upon Piters shoulder did he look him in the eye and see delusion that matched his own. The boy had felt the tiniest of pulses but not his mind slip. There was no doubt the boy was dead, when his pulse was inspected the pressure allowed blood to seep out his mouth. When his head was lifted the imp could swear he saw a putty that was a mixture of skull and brain matter. When the heavy boy was slug over Piter's shoulder he simply stopped looking the imp had no quarrels with seeing pain or desperation, malice or hate, pride or starvation, but the will that employed the child to act so was not something he had seen before.
The imp fluttering his wings just behind the boy watched as the corpse was dragged away it decided that the scene was comical in not such a funny way. As Atlas carried the heaves Piter carried the boy. The imp had once decided why Atlas did not give up the burden that he shoulded, excusing his actions as that of selfishness because he did not want to be crushed under its weight. The titan had been ready to die in his battle with the gods but now saw actions of self-sacrifice as beneath him. Of course, the imp seeing the scene of companionship before him wondered if Atlas still thought the war was raging.
The imp spoke up, "The boy is dead, as any man silent to his own conquest. You too could hear the echo of each hit, there's no one to keep fighting, his body is empty." The words fell on deaf ears perhaps Piter's jaw was clenched so tight the voice could not be heard over the strain. That beneath the sweat the small voice of reason would be drowned out.
The blood being trailed behind was a flag-waving for the last time and the body as lighter by the time Piter was granted a view of the street. His screaming was powered by delusion he yelped for guards or anyone that could help, a physician, a doctor. When no one came he began tugging on people passing by blooding their pants and shirts when he could reach them.
After hours passed and pitter cried himself horse a guard approached. It was not a good part of town one would have to be lured here just to arrive. Within a blur, Piter was thrown over a guard's shoulder while the other grabbed the corpse by his belt. The imp did not quite like being ignored so much but flew on the back of the boy anyway.