Tale of the Magical Son (Unknown Updates)

Chapter 1- Brotherly Instincts

Blazes of Heat trapped the young boy, barely leaving him unscathed. There was no use running. There was no use hiding. He can only wait until the tall shiny demons come for him with their lightning sticks and swords. The only blanket of protection he got was nearly gone in the inferno burning everything up in flames. "They only want the shiny rocks from the heart of the earth", his mother's words shook him to his bones. He hadn't had any to give. Not even a speck of that yellow shiny rock the demons seemed to love was on him.

"Diné Bizaad!?", America cried out as the demons neared him. He had nothing to offer. With nothing to give and nothing to bargain with, America sat down in the circle of fire in defeat.

Without another breath passing the shiny demons found him. America looked up, covered head to toe in ash and smoke. A sound of conversation was passed between the two demons with feathers on what the boy assumed to be their shoulders. Both their eyes met with his, and for a second a soul appeared within the demon's eyes, but that quickly faded. After what seemed to be a sound of approval from one of the demons, they swept him away. Their cold dead eyes staring back at him fixated.

There was nowhere to run, and there was nowhere safe to hide that the fire had not touched. The only hope the boy had was the fact they hadn't killed him yet. All he could do in this situation was submit as his tribe had once told him, and pray to the gods that his luck would not run out with these demons.

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England's head tilted up and inspected what his soldiers had brought into his ship. "What is this? Were my instructions not clear enough? I thought I told you no survivors", England inspected the young lad cast between him and the soldiers. What was so special about a dark savage boy?

"My liege! This is, but a regular lad. For what brought you is none other than a blank," one of the soldiers explained with enthusiasm. None of them were even aware this was at all possible. For they knew, guardians could only be made by the royal wizards. Guardians weren't ever born.

In disbelief, England walked closer to the boy and bent down to wipe some of the ash off. Surprised by the discovery of a complete lack of pigmentation in the skin, England gave a pondering look as he thought to himself. Unfortunately, this was made difficult by the war cries, and smoke of the Island. England lifted his head to his soldiers. "I take it he has no living relatives left?" England asked with a straight face.

"None that dared show their faces to save their own kind," one of the soldiers said with a dark expression. They really were cowards and savages. Not even daring to save a child belonging to them.

"Hmmm, Mr. Matthews how old would you say this child is?" England stood up and looked at the soldier who had mostly been quiet this whole time.

"No more than 5 years of age my liege," The soldier named Matthews said to England who appeared to have made his decision.

"Let's take him to the Palance and get him cleaned up. He looks like he hasn't taken a shower in ages'', England jokily ordered as he walked forward petting America's head along the way. England was not looking for another project, but sometimes things just fall into place. Glass half full, England could see if savageness was inherited or taught. Either way, the palace was getting lonely anyway, and the king was not letting him get another pet without good reason soon. Especially with the ravage, his dragon has caused over a couple of damn fish.

England chuckled as he reached the front of the ship. Waves crashing, and grunts from the sailors filled England's ears. A forever war it seemed. England sighed and looked back at the young blank. "I wonder," England thought to himself. He reached down to the barrels before him and opened one of them. The aroma of dried pork hurriedly escaped out of its containment. England reached down to the innards of the barrel and grabbed the dried meat.