Breaking Point

Part 1

My life was far from perfect. 

I was born to a normal young commoner couple with warm brown eyes and dark hair. My parents adored me, and from what I remembered, I adored them too. I loved them more than anything - not that I could really remember what the warmth of love felt like. I had an older brother named Iziekel, and he also loved me a lot. But when I was five, my heart began to feel as though it were burning painfully. I screamed, and my parents rushed to my side. Iziekel was outside, at the time, and didn't hear my scream, otherwise he would have rushed to my side too. Otherwise... he would have died alongside my parents.

Suddenly, my heart had felt as though it was exploding, and all of a sudden, the world around me burst into flames. The flames were hot and angry, and the sky above, once sunny and cloudless, was now a threatening black, purple lightning striking down. My parents had been pushed away from me, and their bodies were lying in the flames, marred beyond recognition. Then it rained. Rained droplets of ashes.

I knew they were dead as soon as I laid eyes on them. Their unblinking empty eyes, brown, like mine, staring up at the dark sky, and I knew they would never hold the warmth they once had when they looked at me. I was unhurt. No injuries, not even any ashes on me. Just tears. Fat, miserable tears of sadness rolling down my face.

That day, my hair turned white as snow, and my brown eyes changed colour. One eye became purple, and the other became red. One, a fiery, blazing red, the other, a majestic but ominous purple. That was when Iziekel found me. He was covered with ashes, and I could see some burns along his face and legs and arms. When his eyes found me, I had been sure that he wouldn't recognize me, but he did. He didn't question how my hair and eyes changed colour. All he saw when he looked at me was his little sister.

His eyes had filled up with tears as he ran towards me, scooping me up in his arms and running away from the hellish fires. He must have known that I had unknowingly killed our parents... but he still loved me. That day, our house burned down. Our town burnt down. And all that was left... were Iziekel and me. And it was all my fault.

We moved to the nearest town - a bustling city with many people, but a clear difference between the rich and poor. Iziekel stole from the rich and poor alike to survive, taking beatings when he was caught and escaping from executioners sometimes when he was caught taking from the rich. He always managed to take care of me. He always sheltered me first when it rained. He always made me be the first to eat. He always let me be the first to sleep. He tried so hard to make my life comfortable, and I remembered loving him deeply.

Once, kidnappers tried to take us. Big, scary men, from what I remembered. I couldn't remember their faces, but I knew that they all had many scars and a large figure. They tried to take us, but I felt rage and fear burn inside me, and my fingertips tingled. In a flash, I had raised my hand at the men and purple lightning, the same that had come down from the sky on the day I had accidentally murdered my parents, shot out. They were fried to a crisp, and when I had looked to Iziekel, his eyes were panicked. 

"Don't tell anyone that you can do this," he made me promise. I had nodded, unsure of why, that is, until they found me. They found me and Iziekel and took us away. I was seven, and Iziekel had been fifteen. I wasn't afraid, because I trusted them. Turned out... that trusting those scums had been the worst decision of my life.

Me and Iziekel were fed well. We had luxury meals and luxury rooms and luxury things that looked as though they'd cost a fortune. I was happy, but Iziekel was nervous. He knew what I didn't - they wanted something from us. He just didn't know what. 

Being young, I was naive and unafraid, not worrying about the future but rather enjoying the present. One day though, they stormed in and took me. Big, scary men - seemed to be a pattern for me and Iziekel - who grabbed me and dragged me to a field. They told me to burn the field down. I couldn't. I didn't want to. I was shaking in fear.

Then they dragged Iziekel into it. Grabbed him roughly by the arm, and being the malnourished, scrawny teenager he was, he was unable to escape from them.

"Burn this field," they said, "and we won't touch him." I remembered their words clear as day. I was afraid, and tried hard, but I couldn't. No fire, no purple lightning. And so they beat Iziekel. They beat him with sticks, fists, whips, and even cut him with knives. The whole time I was sitting in a puddle of my own tears, screaming and crying as I tried as hard as I could to summon fire or lightning. Finally, as one of the men lifted Iziekel into the air and punched him in the face, I let out a scream and the grassy field, once green and happy, was set ablaze. The fire burned before me, and the men finally left Iziekel alone, lying bloody, bruised, and battered on the ashy ground.

"Good," I visually remembered the terrifying and twisted grin of pleasure under the hood of a man.

Thus began my training, if you could even call it training. They used Iziekel as leverage against me, and the longer I took to do what they wanted, the longer and harder they beat him. It wasn't long before I mastered both fire and lightning, able to use them to my will in an instant and on command. Iziekel had fallen into an even worse state, his mental and physical health draining. Soon, he was no longer required to be dragged to my training, rather, lying in bed, fighting the many illnesses that came after him. But even then, the mere threat of them harming my brother, even if not in front of me, made me shiver and do as they said.

And they made me kill. People, animals, soldiers, beasts - anything. They called me many names - a genius, a destructive beast, a cold-blooded killer, and I knew I was all those things. At first, killing scared me - the blood, the stench, the screams and shrieks. But after a long time of hearing them again and again, I managed to tune them out.

Some time later, when people from the Holy Temple visited, I fell in love. I was only fifteen then, and I had fallen in love with a kind-hearted boy my age, a paladin named Wes. His smiles were warm, and he was skilled in what he did. I would stutter when talking to him, and he always understood what I was saying. He was considerate and warm. His warmth was like a campfire - it melted my heart. I was not just in love - I was head-over-heels for this boy.

Big mistake number two.

He used me. Sucked me dry for all my worth. He would look at me with a warm smile, and as my heart would flutter, he would ask in a kind tone, "Atlas, I need you to kill the Pope." The Pope was a kind old man who ruled the Temple and Holy Land, but for some reason, he had always held a hard look in his eyes when he looked at me.

"W-What?" I would always be taken aback at his requests.

"Is that a no?" he would always ask, looking sad and droopy.

His expression would always make me give in. "N-N-No! Just... why?"

"Please don't ask any questions," Wes would grab my hands, looking into my eyes pleadingly. My heart would melt again. "Just do it. Please - for me?" And I would say yes. Always. And so, I not only killed for the men who used me, but also for Wes. Over time, his requests got more and more bizarre, but I never refused. I believed that if I did all those things for him, he would love me back. 

And so I stole. I stole, I killed, I hunted, I scavenged - everything he asked me to. I was always hesitant, and I knew none of it was right, deep down, but still, I never refused. I couldn't refuse, all because of a stupid illusion called love.

I murdered his enemies. Stole files he wanted me to steal. Hunted wild beasts that he would take all the glory for. Scavenged for dirt on his political enemies, fabricated the charges, if I needed to, and planted the evidence if there was none. I was like his dog, now that I think back on it. Both his and the Blackstone Duchy's - the people who had made my life worse than hell - dog. And like all dogs... I was disposed when I was no longer needed.