The boy stood over the rubble of what had once been his home. Ashes flew up into his face, and were instantly swatted away, but not by his hand.
The crunching of his solid leather boots against the harsh, burnt ground beneath him echoed in his head.
His bow was slung over his back, his eyes shrouded by his brown hair. Clutching his double bladed sword, he took off one piece, grabbing it by its hilt. A small hole appeared in the hold of the sword's main grip point, ready for the other sword to be placed back in, with ease.
His dagger glinted in the moonlight, reflecting memories of what might have been, given time. Standing there, 14 year-old Darst Prov shed one, single tear. It slid down his grimy cheek, trickled down his shirt and finally came upon the bottom of his boot. He shook his head, denying any more tears passage from his eyes.
He finally found what he had been looking for. The one thing he had come here to find, and the one thing he would never have thought he COULD find.
Darst leaned down, and pulled out a scroll. His father's records. He began to read, and, as he did, his eyes got wider and wider. Knowledge poured into him, as he began to understand EVERYTHING that had ever been a question to him
He had been beaten up.
He had lost his family.
He had forgotten so many things
He felt like he had once known these things; but now
. he did not.
But now, after so long, he was finally reading this paper
I imagine, of course, you are confused.
You're not SUPPOSED to understand this.
So, let me take you back to the beginning
When it all started.
-To Be Continued-