Walking the Line

Death to the Unworthy

[Time Skip: 5 years]

Ortau, now 14 and feared among his system. He wore rags and had no weapons still.

He awoke from his light sleep, sweating and panting from his nightmare of a vision. A vision of more loved ones dying.

He feared himself, his ability to kill. He looked up sensing a presence, one which belonged to a more superior being, something much stronger than he.

It was near, he could sense the darkness approaching him. He picked up his belonging and began running.

He ran for a few minutes, then stopped and turned to see his pursuer, it as a mistake he'd regret. As he turned a crimson blade was put to his neck at lightning speed.

The blade hummed and hissed, casting a red hue on the ground around them. Ortau stared up and saw white eyes staring back "you're strong in the force, boy," the tight skin around his lips drew back as he spoke.

Ortau stumbled back in fear of the dark aura and looked at the stalker with his glowing blade "wh-who are you..? What are you?" he muttered under his breath that even he could barely hear.