He was an unusual boy, born on the twelfth of August in the kingdom of Omnia, in a very small village on the outskirts. His mother died in childbirth and his father had disappeared just two months before.

The boy was incredibly intelligent that by three months he could say sentences, and by one year he could hold a conversation with a seven year old easily. On top of that he could walk and run by the time he was eight months old. The boys body and brain was developing much faster than those his age.

He was born with blood red hair like his father and golden eyes like his mother. He stood out like a sore thumb in a crowd.

His father had been part of a strong warrior clan. The clan members bright red hair and incredible strength and agility had earned them a reputation not to be messed with. The clan's intelligence was average, but their fighting skills were impressive.

His mother who was a golden eyed elf was from the golden elf clan, a small and mysterious clan of elves who were unnaturally adept at magic and incredibly intelligent. They were also rumoured to have ethereal beauty, although no one knew for certain.

After the boy's mother passed, he was taken in by the village elder. It was the perfect environment for the boy to learn. There were mountains and mountains of books in the village elders home, and the elder was adept in magic. Although the village elder was not on par with the state wizards, he was well learned in the art and taught the boy a few simple spells, the rest the boy researched himself.

There was another man in the village, named Arthur. And when the boy showed interest in martial arts taught him all the fighting skills he knew. The man had once been a state soldier. He had been stationed in the Emperor's Palace in the capital city of Omnia, in the country of Aurum.

The capital city was named The Winged City as a nickname as once in the past it had used to float in the sky, however its real name was Caelum.

Arthur had lost his wife and child when he was a young, so cared for the boy as though he was his own son. The boy thought of him as a father.

The boy was Intelligent and good at almost everything so he was naturally praised a lot, but he never let the praise go to his head. He was a kind child always caring for others and helping them whenever he could.

The village was peaceful and quiet. Everything moved slowly and everything was good.

However, when the boy had just turned eight, he had gone out into the forest to collect firewood with a friend. He and his friend were messing about and playing in the woods, they were trying to see who could collect the most wood. The boy let his friend win as he wanted to be kind.

When they competed a second time, the boy's friend twisted his ankle, so he told him to head home first, and he would bring the wood back. His friend set off towards the village and as the boy attached the two baskets together so he wouldn't have to make two trips.

When he had finished tying the baskets together, he set off back home. On his way he spotted some wild herbs he could give to the elder. He had seen the herbs in a few books and knew they were quite valuable, so he stopped to pick as many as he could. He also decided that whilst he was nearby to the berry bush that he would pick some to give to granny Mildew. He liked granny Mildew's berry pies.

The boy walked back towards the village after picking berries. It was another ten or fifteen-minutes' walk back, but only another four till he was out of the forest and into the meadows. He was looking forward to seeing the village elder's pleased face and granny Mildews smile.

He was looking forward to sharing the pie with friends, having a bonfire and singing as they always did once a week. He liked to sing, but even more than that he enjoyed spending time with people.

He smelt smoke on the wind. He thought they must have started the bonfire early. He decided to speed up and was out of the forest in no time.

Ahead of him flames licked the sky and smoke rose high into the clouds. The village was red and burning. He dropped everything and began to run. He ran towards the village his mind racing his chest heaving and his heart thumping loudly.

He reached the village, time was moving fast, acrid smoke filling his lungs. He saw people lying in pools of blood on the ground. People screaming as they burned alive. Severed limbs still twitching were strewn across the dry, hot, parched earth. He saw granny Mildew, she was lying, face down, in a pool of blood. She had no body.

He saw men. They were laughing, as they broke his friends arms and legs, bones snapping. A bonfire of blazing bodies was piled high in the centre of the square. Some the boy recognised, some beyond recognition, and one still alive.

He froze. He saw the village elder his head was on the floor. They had pulled all of his clothes off his dead body and were swinging him around by the feet, letting the blood spray from his neck onto the half dead children lining the floor, like graves in a graveyard. Their limbs were broken and twisted. Bits of them had been cut off.

Arthur was crawling desperately across the floor. He had no fingers and no legs, tears streamed from his eyes as he pulled himself in front of the children protecting their eyes from the horrid sight.

The children's mothers were being raped violently, screaming as they were cut and stabbed. Once they died they were thrown onto the bonfire of bodies and set ablaze.

The boy fell to his knees frozen. He began to pull at his face and neck, scratching violently, drawing blood. He didn't cry he just stared, his mouth moving, but no sound escaped.

A sword made of pure magic appeared in his hand its blade thinner than a hair and sharper than a needle. He stood his eyes glowing in the firelight. His eyes glazed over.

The men turned to look at him feeling the bloodlust. They grinned their eyes laughing and their teeth showing in a crazy smile. Their hands were dripping with blood.

"Hello little boy! Well, aren't you a pretty young boy. Such smooth skin and such unusual bright hair. Ooh and those bright eyes! You would sell for a good price to a noble who was willing to pay!" his laugh rang out over the forest and into the night. The boy stayed silent staring at the man with mad eyes.

He was swifter than the wind. One by one, a head was removed from each mans shoulders. Flames licked and burned. The boys world was silent all but for the thumping of his heart and the voice in his head telling him to 'kill'. He felt calm and in control, but yet he burned inside.

#

He stood looking towards the sky as it began to rain. The rain washing the blood down his cheeks. He bit his lip as to not cry out from the pain in his chest.

"Than?" A small voice whispered weakly from beside the ever-blazing pile of bodies.

The boy turned. It was Arthur. He stood looking at him for a while. His mind was blank

"Than, I want you to leave this place." The boy blinked.

"There is no hope left for us. I know it hurts. You did well you know. I am proud of you. But whatever you do, do not dwell on the past. The past is behind you, do not blame yourself for things that are out of your control. Keep moving forward with your life. Life is short so don't stay behind and miss all that is ahead. Keep moving and do what you want. Don't dwell to long in this worlds darkness. You're a good boy Than." Blood pooled on the floor around him. He turned his head to look at the children.

"It hurts me to know that I will never get to see them all again. Never get to see them grow, laugh, learn and love. But that's life, it hurts, and it will be over before you know it. " he smiled and laughed. He turned back to Than

"We will stay by your side. All of us. No matter what you decide to do we will always be with you. Always on your side" He smiled. His eyes were slowly glazing over.

"Just know that. We love you." His voice faded and his eyelids closed. He looked peaceful, as though he had just fallen asleep.

Than's eyes brimmed with tears, he bit his lip so hard that it bled. He covered his mouth and nose with his bloody hands. The pain was too much. He clutched his chest feeling for something to rip out.

"Please. Anybody. Make it hurt less. Please." He gasped for air. Then he screamed. And screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

He laid down his throat dry and his chest empty. All was silent. There was nothing left of sounds except for the crackling of the raging fire that the rain was slowly putting out.

The boy slept, dreaming of other things than death. He was dreaming of running through the meadows with friends, training with elder and Arthur. On and on he dreamed all through the night. Forgetting everything, just until morning came.