The Ripper

The First Secret

Even though he had survived the cart crashing into him, Erik knew he was certain to die once he came home covered with cuts, bruises, and a very noticeable, very discernable lightning bolt running up his arm. Using the Imperis weapons in Meryl, in the open, was a big no-no, and even though none of the bystanders saw him activate his sword, Erik's father would definitely know. And reprimand him. Erik, of course, understood his father's concerns. His heart still raced from the risk he took.

If it had been five years ago, no one would have batted an eye if Erik had decided to go to the town square and put on a light show for the children. Well, younger children. Despite his nineteen years, Erik still kept his baby face.

If it had been one year ago, someone might have called the guards for making a disturbance. They still didn't like their weapons, but it was allowed. Most people carried swords, and the flashes from the sword could have been credited to a glint in the sun instead of some "magic," as the Merylians called it.

Ever since The Ripper took to their town, everyone stayed hyper-alert for any sign of the murderer. Erik too wanted The Ripper captured and gone. In the past month, he had killed ten people, ranging from the upper class to a few notorious criminals. The guards still hadn't figured out what connection these people had. It was all random. A random spree of murders, two dead a week.

All killed with a deep slash. All marked with a scar shaped like a tree of lightning branching off from the wound. And all potential witnesses with their memories wiped and another lightning scar on the side of their head.

The same lightning bolt that marked Erik's arm.

The Merylians had no weapons that could make that kind of mark, but the Imperis could and did.

Erik grunted from the sudden pull on his arm.

"I know it hurts, but you have to get home before someone decides to stop us and send us to the healer," Jean, Erik's best friend, said. He had grabbed Erik's arm once he saw the lightning bolt and tried to cover it with his fingers. A few stray lines stuck out, but it was otherwise covered.

"I know, I know," Erik replied. He straightened out his back and ignored the burning sensation. "How far left?"

"Close," Jean replied. "Is your father home?"

"No. Mother and Chris aren't home either." Erik inhaled sharply when he stepped straight onto a loose rock and stumbled. "He was feeling sick so they went to a midwife friend of hers."

Jean gnawed on the inside of his cheek, something he did whenever he was nervous. Up ahead, two guards were talking outside a pub near their houses. At least, Erik thought it was the pub near their houses. He couldn't think properly from the pounding headache he got when he hit the ground. Jean led them away from the guards through a back alleyway.

Even though the Merylians never treated Erik as part of their own, they had at least stayed polite to him. It helped that his skin looked like theirs--fair and red from the sun. Only the shape of his face and maybe his eyes gave him away as a half-breed from the Decapolis, the alliance down south. So Erik had been quite stunned when a cart decided to knock into him while the man on top shouted, "Scum like you should die."

The cart had been going straight. As Erik walked parallel to its path, it came up behind him. Then the driver shouted, spurred his horses to gallop, and ran Erik over. Erik didn't see the cart until it was too late. He threw his body out of the way, but the man turned and made the wagon smash into Erik's body.

Out of instinct and fear, Erik reached for the sword on his belt and activated it as he braced for impact. He knew the sword's properties would give him better endurance so that he would live from the impact. The sword activated, only slightly so that the glow was barely noticeable in the noon sun.