I was born.
Before the hands of a man and woman with saffron amber skin. They rejoiced at the sight of me but were unwilling to part when an old man suddenly burst into our tent and pointed at me.
I couldn't understand what he said but it made my new Father angry.
The air felt heavy.
The old man waved his wand, a light blossomed from his hand and extended its tendrils towards me but nothing happened. The moment it touched my skin, the light vanished- shattering was more like it, the broken light disintegrated into tiny particles and faded into the air.
What just happened? Was that... magic?
The old man fell to his knees seemingly weakened, an aide came to help the old man and yelled at my parents.
My new Mother looked confused and looked to father for guidance, but he only glared at the two, his tone was flat as he spoke.
The aide's eyes seethed with dislike.
I would learn later. My Father was the offspring of a King and a slave from a southern continent called Eija. That Kingdom would later fall, leaving the land with no heir. No matter how much people hated it he was still a prince and the last line of royalty.
So when heaven's granted him his own land, many thought him unworthy. And would come to challenge him.
That's right. In this world, the heavens will intervene to manage things like birthrights for leaders of the Earth. People could plead before the heavens and challenge those holding the deeds for land to a duel.
Not long after I was born, there were many who came to fight my Father. But he was a strong warrior, always sending back those that came with missing limbs. Thus people began to call him the "Quarter Prince."
Son of a slave, sired by a king, but he wasn't even raised in the land he was born. He was an Eijan but the Eijans would never acknowledge him as one, a Syr but the Syrs would never acknowledge him either. A Prince but royal to who? He can't even be called either half of what he is, so long as people were concerned he was just a quarter.
And in addition to that, the rumor spread that he had the hobby of quartering his enemies. Thankfully this disgusting new title reduced the contenders over time.
Though it had already been too late. I had been jaded by Father's brutality; the loss of life and bloodshed.
Mother would have shielded me from things like this, she would never let me watch rated R movies so young and I remembered feeling left out when my classmates discussed the latest horror movie. I miss her. I miss Sis.
When I was three, I saw my first angel. But then I quickly forgot it, all I was left with a feather in the palm of my hand, and a screen before my eyes saying:
[Angel feather acquired!]
I'm certain I saw something, a bright light descending from the heavens. Even though I didn't remember what I saw, I was aware that I had seen something, that it had said something, it was odd. I couldn't remember.
"Jacinth?" Mother was calling for me. I had already come to understand the language here, despite never talking. Her Motherly instincts tingled it would seem. She hurried over to me and asked what I had in my hand.
"Enge feathwa." I said.
Her mouth hung open. I realized then it was because it was my first time talking.
My parents realized I could understand them when I was one but even then, I never spoke.
Granted it was because I had never been spoken to, not that they neglected me or anything. Well, perhaps this is what one would call neglect, still, I'm thankful that I can be alone.
They just weren't the type to coo at a baby. Father was a stoic man that only softened up around Mother. And Mother was a goal-driven woman who tended to my needs but aside from that, that was it.
That incident must have shocked her ever since then because she began to talk to me more.
Whenever I was exploring my surroundings or sitting by myself a shadow would hover over me.
"What are you doing, Jacinth?"
"Sittin."
"May I join you?"
I shrugged.
She sat next to me and stared in the direction of what she thought I was looking at, the sky.
"What were you looking at?"
I pointed at the grass, purple ants were dismantling the live carcass of a wounded bug, I watched our house cat, Nine bash in its exoskeleton without mercy earlier when it tried to bite her.
Big as it was now, it was outnumbered.
Mother gasped, pulled out her hairpin from her bun, and stabbed it on sight.
Its innards splurted, drowning some of the ants who struggled to wriggle out.
I looked at her, my mouth hanging open.
"...Why?"
Mom huffed as she wiped the residue on the grass then the hem of her dress. "It was a parasitic demon."
A question sign hung over my head, but I was too speechless to voice my thoughts. It was fine if it was another animal hunting an animal, but if it was a human that was just too cruel. The bug never stood a chance.
"Back in my homeland in the rainforest, there was a very evil bug that liked to feed off other animals, over time it eats the animal's brain and assumes control. If another organism eats it while it's alive it will also evolve into a demon, imagine dozens of demonic ants roaming this area-" She stopped talking and sighed. "Of course you're just a child, you have no idea what I'm talking about."
I do though, still, she's right. A normal three-year-old wouldn't.
Demon, I had never seen one nor could I imagine one. But if I had to think of one, my Father came to mind. Yes, the most demonic-like entity I know.
"Anyway, whenever you see these things, kill it, they're weak without a host."
I stood to leave, she killed my fun and I was utterly bored and bitter. Life was insanely boring here, there was no Wi-Fi, no smartphones, no restaurants with good food. I was spoiled in my past life, I know, still, I had a hard time adjusting.
She told me but as I walked away I overheard her muttering. "They're only supposed to be at the rainforest... how did they get here?"
Although the contenders stopped trying to challenge Dad it seemed others were still plotting to get rid of us discreetly.
That, at least I learned today.