I was born on the day of the dead Sun. On the hour of my birth the life giving star that hangs in the heavens was killed and replaced by an ominous circle of raging blood-red flame. This signifies the birth of a new age. A time of change and metamorphosis. The great sun itself is reborn like the Phoenix. For someone to be born on this day is both an honor and a curse. It is known that any child born on the Day of Dead Sun shall be the arbiter of the next age. A great leader to have their name written in the history books. But, this fame and glory is overshadowed by the toil and hardship the individual must go through. So, to hopefully keep me safe from my own destiny, my parents kept my day of birth hidden from the rest of the town. Even from me. I, along with everyone else believed that I was born the day before the suns rebirth. I lived most of my childhood as normal as possible in this frost bitten land. I had friends that I played with in the streets like any normal child. My father took me hunting and my skills with a bow, creating clever traps, and even tracking capabilities surpassed even his own. By the time I was twelve I was one of the most avid hunters in the village. I had everything I wanted. A loving family, a handful of loyal friends, and I was even beginning to take an interest in the girls in my village. There was one, whom I had already been friends with for quite some time, who particularly caught my eye. She was about my age, born only two weeks before me, though she teased me about being so young all the time. I remember the way her dark auburn hair blew around her face when the wind kicked up. And how those dazzling brown eyes threw me into a dizzying trance whenever our gazes locked. But very soon I found that even the most beautiful things in the world, the things that if you lost you feel like you would die, will crumble like ash in your very hands. Nothing is permanent. Everything dies. I awoke one day with a tiny mark on the right side of my face, just above the jaw line. I thought nothing of it. Probably just a scratch right? Wrong. Over the course of a week it had spread to the entire lower right quadrant of my face. It gave my lower right jaw the look of a skull made of the pattern of the burn marks. My parents had forced me to wear a mask to cover it. Something you might not know about our village, even most of our kingdom, scars are cursed. Well for the most part not literally but we consider them as such. Those with scars are seen as infected or possessed by demons. Treated as pariahs they roam just outside the cities. Never venturing into the hive of people wanted to rid the world of them like vermin. I hid mine for a while until one day. The day I became a devil. I was coming home from the market when one of the town guards stopped me. "Hold there young man. Those look heavy, let me help you with that." He grabbed a few of the bags and adjusted his side quiver out of the way of his swinging arms. "Where do you live boy?" He asked. "The house next to the blacksmith sir. Artemis' lodge." With a look of surprise he blurted out "By the Phoenix how did I not know. Of course you're the son of Bjorn and Valla. You have your mothers eyes you know." I feigned a laugh. Everyone always knew me as my parents child but almost never as myself. "Yes sir" I said with a groan. My scarred flesh scraping against the cloth draped around the lower half of my face, sending waves of scorching agony through my skin. It seemed as though the condensation from my breath had collected onto the mask, forming small ice crystals that only dug into my tender flesh with more viciousness than before. "Something wrong?" the guard asked with a look of slight concern on his face, but mostly carrying on nonchalantly. "It's nothing" I say exasperated, prying and pawing at the mask to pull it off my skin. "Nonsense, son." He put down the bags and kneeled down to look me in the eyes. I saw a flash of confusion and another emotion that I couldn't quite identify. I guess it was somewhere between concern and fear. "No really I'm okay" I said in a shaking voice while backing away. "You don't have to- WHUMPH". The feeling of air being knocked out of my lungs as I fell was paralyzing. I couldn't move or breath. But worst of all, my mask had fallen off, shedding light on the monstrosity that was the son of Bjorn and Valla. My scar had seemed to grow even more, enveloping half my face in what looked like freshly burnt skin. It peeled and blistered. Bled and burned. The below freezing temperatures had frozen over the small amount of liquid that oozed out of the mangled skin, turning it into a solid layer of ice. The guard, staring awestruck and disgusted at my face began to shamble towards me shakily, as if unsure of his footing. His right hand began to creep away from his torso, almost as if something else began dragging it towards me. Trembling digits began to fill my view. His face was twisted into a sinister glare that radiated both hate and terror. I couldn't move. Paralysed by the realisation that my life was over. Even when only twelve sun cycles had passed since I was born I knew the weight a scar can carry. Most were either executed or exiled for their "crimes", but an unfortunate few were granted the so called honor of being our garrison commanders lab rat. He was obsessed with finding out the secret to what caused people to develop scars, or so we'd been told. We've all heard the screams in the dead of night. His patient's cries for help piercing through the cold, silent air and reverberating off of the mountains surrounding our village. Sometimes they were so loud the mocking owls caught on and formed a cacophony of horrifying shrieks lasting well into the night. Sometimes until dawn. I've had nightmares about that lab for years. And now, I feared that I would be dragged there and kept as a pet until I drew my last breath, letting it shakily escape my mouth in a defeated sigh, gratefully embracing the sweet release of death. A platform pulled out from under my feet as I dived into the unknown void of the aether. The guards fingertips were so close to my face I could sense his warmth emanating through the freezing cold. There was a moment right before he made contact. Both of us frozen. Me trapped on the ground, my greatest fear released to the world. Him? Possibly the curiosity, an innate characteristic of all humans, overcame the apprehension he had. When he finally made contact he broke the thin layer of frozen blood, causing it to spiderweb and shatter before it crumbled off my skin. What happened next was unexplainable. A haze of white had clouded my vision but I could just barely see what happened. My mouth eyes and my scar expelled a flame hotter than anything I had ever experienced. It started at almost white, rolling into yellow and orange, finally unfurling into a red ring of dissipating flame and black smoke. My scar burned with a renewed vigour, feeling like a fresh wound. The pain was almost to much as I barely kept myself from collapsing even further onto the earth. I heard screams of pain and desperate gasps for air on the ground, accompanied by pathetic writhing and scuffling sounds next to me. I leaned up and stole a glimpse. What I saw was a truly horrifying sight. The guard was squirming on the ground while still on fire. The flesh on his face had charred and peeled away. Bare tendons, muscles and teeth were showing from his face. In fact, almost the entire left side of his torso was charred and roasted. His rib cage poked through his rapidly melting chest. The smell of burning human skin invaded my senses and branded itself into my brain. As I sat there dazed and stunned he began to choke out a few almost decipherable syllables. When I finally broke from my haze. I began frantically searching for something to help, though I knew it was in vain. Finally I just began begging the poor man for forgiveness. I hadn't meant to kill him. I didn't even know I had the ability to do what I did. "I...I didn't mean to... I'm sorry I" I was barely able to get the words out. I saw this man half his body almost burnt to ash. All that was left was bone, tendons, and a few stray muscle fibres. The half that was left was almost perfectly fine, untouched, pure. His body was an almost mirror reflection of my own scar. He looked up at me with malice and burning hatred. With boiling blood seeping in between the wretched looking mangled jaws, the man choke out a few sputtering curses out. None of which I could discern. Finally he said something I could understand. Through gasping breaths, as his final breath escaped his lungs he uttered the word that would define me for eternity. "Demon." And with that final utterance, what sliver of life force he had left seeped out of his still smoking husk and departed this plane. As I sat there, his blood and burnt skin coating my hands, small footsteps crunched the snow underfoot as they approached. The steps began at a run or jog, slowing to a careful creeping motion as they neared. Apprehensive steps, light as air, tiptoed through the fresh flakes on the ground. Stopping just a few feet behind me. I turned around to see who had come to take me away. To my horror, my still smouldering face, waves of heat emanating from beneath my skin, turned to see a girl. When our eyes met I was again entranced by her elegant hazel eyes. The sun catching the irises at just the right angle. Flecks of gold caught in a sea of amber ringed by a halo of what could be mistaken for a galaxy. Her eyes seemed to hold the answers to the universe. Nothing else mattered. At least, not then. After those fleeting moments faded away and I broke from her trance and was brought back to reality. She stood there, stricken by what I could only guess was fear. Quivering breaths sliced through the air and echoed inside my mind. I craned my neck up to look her in the eyes once more. Eyes welling with tears that streamed into my open wound. The my felt like acid melting away at my face. When our eyes met again, there was no trance, no enchanting gleam left, only sadness and despair. She dropped to her knees, falling down to my level and pulling me into a hug. As I wept into her shoulder, breaking down, I remembered. "GET BACK!" I yelled while jumping backwards away from her. And covering my face. "Why?" She asked through shaking breaths and tears. I explained what happened. The whole time she was staring straight at my scar, not even trying to hide it. She too knew the danger of having a scar in this kingdom. "You're not the only one Kaine." She said, beginning to roll up her sleeve. "Aloura, what are you talking about?" With her sleeve pulled up almost to her elbow, scar tissue was evident in her forearm. It seemed to form symbols and runes. It ended in a ring around her wrist that appeared to be written in some type of language I had never seen before nor recognised. Yet I knew exactly what it said. The mage. I had seen others with these symbols inscribed into their skin, nearly every large town had a sorcerer or wizard of some type. But those marks were fabricated, man made markings. These were natural, almost as if they were birthmarks. "You're cursed too?" I whispered. "Yes. I've... I've always had them. Always had to keep them hidden." Finally. Someone knew what it was like to bear this burden. As she helped me up from the ground, the clacking of hooves on stone alerted me of more guards closing in. Again I was paralysed, frozen in my place. She shook me out of my daze and said "We need to get out of here." "Agreed" I responded, taking off towards the square. If there's anywhere you can disappear, it's in a crowd. I strapped my mask back on and pulled my hood over my shortly cropped blonde hair once again. Off we went, traipsing through the snow and brush just off the side of the road. When we entered the market there were droves of people swarming the stalls. Immediately we went into the crowd, hoping to blend in. As we ambled through the crowd I noticed some people giving me weird looks. Why's that? I wondered. Then I remembered how my scar grew up to the top of my face. It was not immediately noticeable, but not exactly invisible either. I pulled up my hood farther and tried to recede into its shadow. Guards wandered in from the direction we entered from. They began questioning people if they had seen two children come into the market. Many said they had but there were so many other children already there we had practically vanished. That is, until my scar started flaring up again. I felt it heating up slowly, pushing back the bitter cold. Immediately I ran into an empty alley, Aloura right on my heels. "You have to run. I don't think I can control this". I said, back towards her. "Why? Kaine what's going on?" She responded. When I turned around to face her she stepped back from me in reflex. My mask fell away, smoking and burning at the very edges. The scar began to glow and it's heat intensified. Soon it was completely ablaze, eyes and mouth radiating heat and light, the pattern of the scars giving of the macabre appearance of a flaming skull on one side of my face while leaving the other untouched. "I'm sorry but I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone" I said. I guess my appearance was ghastly enough to spur her into action because not long after I spoke, the air coming out of my mouth becoming heat waves rather than vapor in the freezing air, she nodded and ran away. Watching her leave was relieving, but also painful. But not nearly as painful as what came next. The flames kicked up and started to sear my flesh. I doubled over in pain and involuntarily screamed as a result. As my voice escaped my mouth and rang in the air, so did the flames. A white hot column of fire erupted from me and scorched the side of the stone building I was facing. Quickly, about four or five guards came to check out what they obviously perceived as a possible threat. "STAY BACK. I DONT WANT TO HURT YOU" I yelled. I don't think they heard me over the the lashing inferno that followed. I heard them shuffle closer, short but carefully planned steps inching ever closer. I threw my hand up to signal them to stop, as I couldn't trust using my voice anymore. But of course that would fail me as well. As I raised my arm the scar grew from my face all the way down my arm and even to my fingertips. Burning my skin every inch of the way. I felt the energy build up in my palm, I knew I couldn't stop it, so at the last second I redirected the blast upwards and away from the guards. I heard the familiar sound of hammers cocking on their barrel loaded rifles. Shaking hands held and unsteady aim on me, waiting for the order. "WAIT." A voice shouted the order. "Do not shoot. I know this boy. He is the son of Bjorn and Valla. Kaine. He and his family have fed us when crops would not yield. Taken us hunting and leading us through the harsh winters. I do not believe he would have killed Yillon on purpose." He kneeled in front of me, about three yards away. "What is going on boy? What has happened to you?" I recognized the voice. It was Sergeant Wethers. He was one of our regular customers. I could not meet his eye. Instead I gazed at the ground I sat upon. The snow beneath me had entirely evaporated away. The bare earth where I touched directly had been scorched, as well as the stone wall behind me. I had no doubt that the heat radiating off me was at the very least extremely uncomfortable for Wethers. After what seemed like a long time I gazed up to look him in the eyes. After what I saw I was speechless. I tried but no words escaped me. Wethers tried to help me up but as soon as he grabbed my arms he jerked them back as if he had touched a pot with boiling water in it. His skin was bright red but otherwise okay. He scooped up some snow and fondled it for a few seconds before slipping on some thick gloves and helping me up again, this time more careful with his movements. "I do not think you meant to kill Yillon. But, nonetheless, you must be taken to the commander. He will decide your fate. I am sorry" he told me sorrowfully. As he guided me along the alley towards the center of town, the snow again started to melt and evaporate, and my footsteps etched scorched prints into the ground. We arrived at the garrison about ten minutes later after carefully maneuvering through the thick crowd. By then the heat had dissipated and my bare feet only sizzled and steamed when in contact with the cool snow. The garrison commander, whose name I did not know, was sitting in his office, rifling through papers while studying beakers and glass instruments, some over a small flame or filled with strange and some fogging liquids of a rainbow of colors. Reds swirling into greens and blues then back to red. A pitch black viscous material in an enclosed jar that seemed to move on its own, seeming to begin bleeding and morphing to a scarlet mass then shifting to a liquid gold, ever changing and never predictable. The commander glanced up only for a brief moment before returning to his experiments. "Yes, Sargent Weathers?" he said, venom dripping from his words. "Sir", the Sargent said saluting, "This boy is responsible for the death of Yillon. While I know it is our custom to punish mu..." the words caught in his throat. "Murderers, I believe that it was an accident. This boy is one of the most upstanding children in the village. He has clearly been taken ov" "That will be enough Sargent." The commander said in a raspy voice, never once taking his eyes off my face or even blinking. "Leave us. Now" "Yes sir" the Sargent said hesitantly saluting. His footsteps could be heard all the way down the hall and crunching the snow just outside. Each footfall becoming quieter and quieter each time. The wooden boards creaking under his dense frame. "Do you know why you are here boy?" I just stared at him quizzically. "Well of course you do. Silly question. Let me elaborate a bit. You were not brought to me for the murder of Yillon. No. His death is of course heavy on the heart but, no. You were brought to me because of that wonderful little scar of yours. It just emanates energy and power. Even now I can see the waves of heat rippling off of you. Take a look for yourself." His right hand swung a circular mirror on a jointed stand around to meet my face. As I saw myself I recoiled in fear. I really had become a demon. The scar had become more pronounced. The image of the skull was even easier to see, as if it were carved into my face by a devilish sculptor. The necrotic picture was even furthered by my eye. Obsidian black where it had been white, with creeping scarlet veins spider webbing themselves to a glowing orange iris ringed in the same red that encircled the dying sun on its day of rebirth. The image branded itself onto my brain. Never again will I see myself as anything other than a devil. Sensing my fear and disgust, the commander said to me "Ah yes now you see. You see what you have become. Diseased, possessed. You have become what you fear my boy. And pray tell, what do we do with people like you?" I gasped audibly, remembering every person like me who had been punished before me. "I'm not going to kill you if that's what you're thinking." A wave of relief washed over me, muscles relaxed from their tense state and the hairs on my extremities fell back down. Banishment it is then. Thank the Phoenix. I thought. "Oh it will be much worse. You see, you are much different than what I have seen before. Other scarred ones have yielded no results to my experiments. Their bodies too fragile to withstand the transformation." "Transformation?" I thought aloud, just above a whisper. "Yes. A glorious metamorphosis that will slingshot the human race into the next age. My superiors wanted me to start the experiments. But I have not only begun to enjoy them" he moved closer across his desk until his face was inches from mine, "I relish in them. And you my friend, will be my next experiment." I was shaking. One thing I had always feared was being one of his projects. "Why experiment on us? Why only people with scars?" I asked trembling. "You do not give a human medicine without testing it on an animal first." He replied, venom dripping off of every word that slithered out of his sadistically grinning maw. Without even glancing towards the away from the wall he was staring at, he uncorked a decanter of some noxious fluid. It looked to be greenish blue at first but as he swirled it around it turned crimson. He put on some sort of mask just a split second before the fluid began to emit a blue colored gas. Instead of filling the room it seemed to creep towards me. Before I could react, it invaded my nostrils and paralyzed me. Short circuiting my nervous system and overloading my senses. It wasn't long before I fell to the ground, hunched over on my hands and knees, blood coming out of my nose mouth and even eyes. After about 20 seconds everything went dark and I collapsed to the floor.
