Mors Certa Hora Incerta

Prologue

Killian Sauer was standing in the face of Death,and despite the threatening glare that focused on his vigilant green eyes,he smirked in triumph. Side by side,men standing firm with weapons in hand.Killian was among them,but he felt alienated. Not just for his appearance; his stature was a smaller and weaker build,his hair was white on the right half and black on the left,and tied back into a ponytail that reached his shoulders. He was a single German descendant in a crowd of English men.He felt almost disloyal to his homeland.

He originally hailed from Germany, and spent most of his life there. However, the portion of his life he had resided in Germany was fraught with penury and chaos.He didn't remember much of his childhood, because it was supposed to be spent with a woman and man he hardly knew.They were supposed to be his parents,but they could barely afford a loaf of bread and very often they were out working,leaving Killian barely any time to be around them and thus making it difficult for him to associate himself with them.Instead,he was raised by his mother's friend named Visha.She was one of the luckier ones. The Treaty of Versailles had affected a high percentage of people,and as a result of the treaty an economic depression had occurred.There was always a homeless person sleeping on the streets,or a hungry family scrounging for food.Visha was able to maintain a good enough amount of money to afford a decent quality of resources.She was a kind woman at first impression, but she always valued her biological son more than Killian.Killian was provided with the less clean clothes whose sleeves draped over his arms,the smaller quantity of food,and more time isolated.

He couldn't remember exactly when,but Visha's son had departed for World War I.She was worried for him all the time he was away,and even though the only one left there was Killian,she kept her distance from him.He didn't understand her reasoning, if she even had one.The times they had to contact,specifically at the dinner table, she would always mention Oskar,who Killian took to be her son.She always claimed how much more adequate and better he was than the one that wasn't even hers.He was certain at this point she didn't want him,so he decided it'd be better,for the both of them,that he strayed away.He would spend his time under an oak tree,reading books of knights and samurai,or Buddhist philosophies,or psychology.Even though he was young, he yearned to gain knowledge. When alone,he always told himself,try to figure out things people never understood.

Then,a year later,Killian stepped inside the small house to find Visha hysterical.She seemed crazed,almost.Her head was in her hands and she was sobbing profusely.Killian didn't even ask,because he noticed the picture of Oskar she was clutching. He thought that,since he was here,he could try to comfort her.He stepped towards her,reaching his hand to touch her shoulder, but she quickly smacked it away.She stood up immediately,the rapid movement almost causing her chair to topple over.Killian stepped back,noticing that she seemed intimidating. Anxiety tugged at his conscience,and his heart began to pound.

"Frau Visha--" he began,but was cut off with a deft movement of her hand to his cheek, leaving a powerful stinging sensation. He put his hand to his cheek,panic beginning to rise within him.Before he could retreat, she grabbed the collar of his shirt and screeched.

"Get away from me,you wretched good-for-nothing! You don't deserve a damn home! It should have been you!"

Those words etched themselves into the very fabric of his mind.He felt a heaviness on his chest and his eyes started to burn,his throat constricting. He whirled around and ran out,nearly stumbling from nausea.He used his remaining strength to get to the oak tree,and slid down onto sitting position. He rested his head against the bark,trying to sort out his thoughts.He didn't understand. He didn't do anything to provoke her,did he? He shakily wiped away his tears,and stared at particularly nothing, lost in thought.The world around him was,at the time,nonexistent.The grass swayed with the whistling wind,people passing by.A few strands of his raven-colored hair fell in front of his eyes,and coming out of his daze,he brushed them aside.