Book One – Prologue One – Part One – A Melancholy Beginning

A massive, rundown building stood stranded and forgotten in the middle of a desert on an ordinary night. Of course, one would be forgiven for thinking it was a physical reminder from a bygone era of war and strife, but it was not. It was constructed with that in mind. Gross walls made up the body of the building, and they were littered with holes and cracks. It was in such rough shape that the desert winds were enough to crumble the more fragile sections. Part of the roof was purposely caved in, giving it the allure that there was nothing to be found here.

Below the sand lay some of the most advanced mines ever built. This was the third layer of defense someone had to bypass if they thought about raiding the place. The second would be the harsh desert itself. It’s a cruel mistress, holding no favors with anyone or anything. The first layer of defense would be the country. In this day and age, this meritless, forgotten country has all but disappeared from the maps of the world. It wasn’t hidden for any one reason.

About fifteen meters away from the building's entrance laid the various body parts of both man and beast. A blanket of red covered the brown sand in a thin layer of crimson.  The unfortunate savage scavengers, who thought that a rundown building would be ripe for the taking, never expected to pass by a large minefield on the way to their destination.

“Father...” a survivor, a young boy, struggled to cling to life as he meekly reached his arm up to the smoky skies and spoke in a whispered tone. The boy breathed in the superheated air from the mines exploding, and his throat was burned from the inside. He slowly got to his knees and tried to stand up, but his left foot had been blown off. Putting his weight on something that did not exist, the boy fell to the ground and cried out. The hard landing caused sticky red blood to flow from his wound as he screamed out in pain.

Perhaps due to the circumstance, the boy forced himself to his knees and started to crawl. If he couldn’t walk, he would do the next best thing. With every movement, more blood flowed from the wound, leaving a trail behind him. It was almost a given that the boy would die soon. He crawled over to the nearest body and grabbed onto its shirt. Half of the body’s face was missing, and he could see countless pieces of brain and skull scattered. The smaller pieces were instantly evaporated from the heat, though. Even though this corpse was near unrecognizable, the boy knew who it was.

“Father!” tears flowed from the child as he shook the body with everything he had. No matter how hard he jounced him, the man would not awake. Even though he was saddened by the loss of family, deep down, he was glad. His father had always beat the boy and his sister for the simplest of errors. In the past, the boy and sister were late in returning home by just a couple of minutes, and his father made his displeasure known by beating the two with a belt.

The two couldn’t do anything about it. Whatever the boy's father said and did, that was the truth they had to accept. If he proclaimed the sky was green, but it was actually blue, everyone one forced to agree it was green. To disagree with him would bring harsh punishment upon his body, usually in the form of lashes.

He shook the corpse for a few seconds longer before he crawled away. Were the shakes out of fear and hope, or anger and hatred? That didn’t matter anymore.  He knew that if he stayed here, he would die. A few meters away, the boy saw the slightest hint of movement out of the corner of his eye. With renewed haste, the boy crawled faster than before as he tried to reach whatever blurred motion he saw.

For the boy, his biggest fear was dying alone. If there was a silver lining to be found in this situation, it would be that now he didn’t have to die alone. However, to get from where he was to where he saw the movement would be an arduous task. He would have to crawl over the remains of his family and friends if he wanted to get over there. After all, the shortest route between two destinations is a straight line. The boy breathed in and then out, and he started his short yet challenging journey.

Three meters remained.

His first obstacle was the remains of his dear mother. He tried not to look down as he crawled over her stumped and near unrecognizable body. Tears flowed from his eyes, and they left a pathetic dampness in the sand where they fell. He remembered the warm touch of a kind woman who was always there for him. When he was sick with the sand virus, she was there to nurse him back. When he broke his leg while playing with Uncle Teuam, she was there to take care of him. He chuckled slightly, then silently wept because he wasn't the best son he could be.

His mother sure did give him a hard time when he played in a forbidden location. He had been told many times not to play in the worn-down school, but his uncle talked him into it. A floor, grown weak by the passage of time and explosions, gave way and crumbled when he ran over it. He fell to the ground and landed on his left leg, which promptly bent at an unnatural angle. He fell over in pain and groaned out. Undisturbed dust moved from their resting place by the sheer volume of his yell.

His uncle acted quickly and ran away to go get help, and soon, the boy was back at home resting on his bed with his mother at his side. Of course, this was after the boy's father had beat him for disobeying his precise orders not to anywhere near the school. That wasn't to say his uncle got off free, either. He was tied to the ceremonial post in the middle of his village. Stripped naked, he was to stand there for two days and two nights, and he couldn’t fall asleep. If he did, he would get fifty lashes to his back and another two hours added onto his punishment. The boy cried long and hard for the next four days, but he never made a noise. If his father heard any crying, he could be sure that more punishment was to follow.

The boy tried his best to remember what his mother looked like, but all that came to mind was her current appearance. Her burnt torso of meat with no arms or legs laid there like an overcooked chunk of chicken. Her  head was attached to her neck by a single piece of skin so thin that a stray gust of wind had the power to destroy it. The boy shook his head and knew he had to hurry. He said a silent prayer and crawled over his dear mother, inadvertently pressing his hand down onto her burnt face, which gave away like slim slime.

His location was now only two meters away, but he couldn't waste any time rubbing his mother's remains off of his hand.

As if it couldn’t possibly get worse, the next unfortunate victim in his path wasn’t human, but he was still the best friend the boy had ever known. It was the incinerated lumps of meat and fur that previously belonged to his best friend, Yaddie. Walking on four legs and being about half the size of a human, Yaddie was the boy’s best friend. He was a dog that the boy had found when he was seven years old. Yaddie was a puppy then, not even one-twentieth of his current size. The boy then used some of the precious moments he had left to reminisce about his first meeting with the dog.

Near the boy’s village laid a graveyard, which was located a few hundred meters away. A close friend of the boy’s family had passed away, and they were attending his funeral. To the boy, who, at the time, was seven years old, he did not understand why everyone was crying or why there was a large black box being lowered in the ground. After the funeral, the boy and his family returned home.

The father called the boy and his sister to his room and proceeded to take out his anger and stress on the two unwilling participants. Lash after lash and punch and punch. The two took the pain silently. Afterwards, the father kicked the siblings out. The sister returned to her and her brother’s room while the boy went outside.

He had no particular direction or destination, and the sun would still be in the sky for a few more hours. He then decided to roam around the village for a bit.  If he had friends, he would want to spend time with them.  But because he was the village chief’s son, he was not afforded that luxury. After wandering for an hour or so, the boy's throat was parched, and he decided that he would go to the watering hole.

The boy wasn’t quite liked in the village, and whenever it was time for him to fetch water, the town’s folk would make him wait until everyone else had gone. Even if he was the second person in line, they would force him to the back. The boy couldn’t risk telling his father, and the villagers knew it. There was a time the boy refused to vacate his spot and move to the back, and he had suffered for it with bruised arms and chipped teeth.

Now, whenever he wanted water, he would use blackened parts of the watering hole. Not many people used that awful section, and it was for a good reason. The water smelled like human waste, and it was the color of mud. Still, the boy didn’t care. He would drink it not because of the taste but because of what it had the potential to do. Every time he drank the water, there was a chance he would get sick. The boy hoped and hoped in all his heart that he would get a nasty disease and leave this horrible world full of beatings. He felt that way for a long time, but his way of thinking changed on that fateful day.

When he went to the watering hole, he expected to drink the black water, but something was different. There was nobody around. For the first time, he had the entire oasis to himself. Overcome with joy, the boy ran over and slid through the sand into the water. He smiled brightly for the first time that he could remember. He started to dip his hand in the water but stopped. Suddenly, he heard loud growling and a meek yelp coming from where the dirty water was at. The boy had to make a choice. Would he go and help? Or would he stay and enjoy the clean water? The boy owed nothing to nobody. Why would he help those who never tried to help him?

He wanted to think that way, but the words of his mother came into his mind. She always said that it was his job and duty as the chief’s son to help those around him, no matter the cause or reason. The boy cursed quietly and ran over to the noise, which had only grown louder. He ran around to the other side of the watering hole and passed through a small tunnel. It was probably about three meters away, so it wasn’t far at all, but when he cleared it, the godawful smell of that black water invaded his nose.  He immediately started to gag and tear up, but vomit never escaped from his stomach.

He wiped his eyes and saw a horrible sight. A small white and black dog laid helplessly on the brown sand while two large crows tried to pick the dog up. Their sharp claws dripped red with blood, and even though the boy was scared out of his little mind, he knew he had to act fast. First, he made a loud noise by yelling, but the crows were not bothered. Instead, they just calmly looked at the boy with their big black eyes. He stiffened up and started to walk back.

As if it enjoyed causing pain, one of the crows slowly lowered its talon and cut into the belly of the dog. A pair of beady black eyes stared daggers at the boy, who froze up. The poor creature yelped out in pain, and for the first time in his life, the boy felt pure anger. Beforehand, when he was being beaten by his father, he only felt fright and sadness. Now, the primary emotion of anger and hatred welled up inside of him.

It was then he realized he was about to take a life for the very first time.