1 Prologue: Fallen World, Fallen Words

The man was already dead, but he kept stabbing anyway.

First, the dagger went between the man's eyes. Now, the boy just wanted to make sure this blight of a miscreant was never going to rise up again. So he raised the dagger and impaled the torso. Raised it again, and repeated the process. Over and over.

The dead man had a companion who held the girl hostage. She was about the same age as he. Her voice was the call for help that brought him to where he was now. In the middle of a fight with two slavers. Well, one now.

The man pushed the girl aside and drew his sword to face the boy. "You little shit!"

Leaving his dagger on the first slaver's body, the boy then picked up a golden spearblade. One with the body of a harpoon and the cutting properties of a double-edged sword. He made the first move and rushed for the man.

The man braced for the attack, expecting the boy to tackle him. It was just a boy. He knew he could take out the rascal.

But the rascal never stood close to him.

The boy hurled the spearblade masterfully despite its length being longer than he was. He would do well with it than put shame to his mentor, Saihme.

"Oh, fuck!"

The spearblade penetrated the man through the stomach, pinning him to a dead tree a few feet behind him. The spearblade found its exit in the other side of the tree trunk, skewering the man and the object of inanimate nature.

Staring in disbelief at his wound, the man struggled for breath. His eyes met the boy's when the rascal stood in front of him. His expression was that of satisfaction and mischief.

The boy held the spearblade, tugging at it lightly.

The man made a sound. "Don't, don't do it or I'll bleed to death."

"But," the boy tilted his head to the side, "isn't that the point?"

Without further ado, the boy pulled the spearblade, easily cutting through wood and flesh.

He marveled at how sharp it was. Saihme must have really taken care of the thing to not let it go dull. Now that it was passed on to him, he could do with it what he will.

The boy stepped aside as the man took drunken steps forward, holding his guts that threatened to spill on the soil. He fell on his knees, coughing up blood. Soon, his body kissed the ground for eternity.

He turned to the girl, but maybe he shouldn't have. Because all he saw was fear imbued in the eyes that he had just saved. Her face displayed an emotion that he found oddly familiar and unnerving. Those eyes stared at him like he was some kind of monster.

They were governed by the instinct to survive in the wasteland, and he felt the urge to help her when she cried for help. He only happen to pass by the dead forest, wandering aimlessly.

He approached her and untied her bounds, ignoring her reaction.

She avoided his gaze.

He watched her. She looked so frail, but there was also life in her eyes. He had never seen a person like this before. A girl at that.

He poked her cheek as if to make sure it was a genuine human being. She certainly moved like one. Plus, she was soft.

The girl met his gaze. Her eyes, a hue of lavender's bloom, widened as she held her cheek and leaned farther from him. "U-umm..."

There was something strange about her. She was different, he could tell.

She appeared harmless. Her hair was long, a silky shade of burgundy, straight but curled at the tips. She had these two small mounds on her chest. He wondered why he didn't have those. Perhaps it was exclusive to them? No matter. They appeared uncomfortable and he didn't want that.

Making sure she was safe and not exactly stunned in place, he plucked the dagger off the dead man before attaching it to the other end of the spearblade. He decided to leave.

"Wait."

He glanced at the girl who was approaching him. In her eyes, fear was now absent. Like she was enlightened by the fact he wouldn't exactly penalize a harmless person.

She put a hand on his arm. He flinched, but didn't move. The first slaver managed to leave an open wound with a knife there earlier.

Her touch was warm. There was something in it that soothed the days he had been searching for something he didn't even know.

An unusual glow escaped her hands. When she withdrew, the blood of his injury disappeared.

"You're a..." He thought about what his mentor told him about these people. Mahiqa. Gifts, powers, bestowed upon people of royal lineage.

The girl shook her head. "I'm not."

The boy said nothing more. He felt uncomfortable with her being that close. Couldn't she do that from a good distance?

The girl was staring at him. He begged for his gaze to wander, but he wouldn't give that satisfaction to her. If it was staring she wanted, he'd do that much.

He noticed her eyes faltered ever so slightly, almost declaring his victory. But she wouldn't yield just as much.

"You look like you're not used to people." She said and reached out a hand to poke at his cheek just to return the favor. "Got a name?"

The boy could've sworn he felt a shiver run down the length of his spine at her touch. He hesitated, almost stammering and that was when he broke off the gaze. "I-I don't...no."

"Do you have anywhere to go?"

"No. Not particularly."

She found it odd. "Well then, do you know where you came from? Maybe you could go back the same way?"

The boy looked around. He couldn't help but think there was something else beyond the dead forest. "I don't remember...anything."

Her expression held its calm despite that revelation. For someone who can't remember anything, he sure can fight or remember how to fight. "I'm Caltha."

The boy looked at her, confused. Her name sounded like a song he couldn't interpret. So that's what another human's name sounded. To him, hearing another name aside from his mentor's, Saihme, was a new form of lyric. "C-Calla?"

"You mispronounce, it's Cal-tha." She corrected.

"Calla." He insisted. It was easier for him.

She didn't really know what else to say so she let it slide. "If you want, we can go to Rastite. You could spend the night with us while you figure things out."

The boy wasn't so sure about staying in a stranger's house. If trouble brewed, he'd just find a way out like how he did recently. No one around here can be trusted. Courtesy of the slavers. He was hesitant, but he found himself following behind Caltha.

The trail through the dead forest rang eerie. Crows circled their empty branches, looking down at them with longing hunger. The mist had gotten thicker the further they traveled until finally, they stood at a mountain path that overlooked a city.

There were a few thriving cities in the empire's wasteland. Those who lived there were banished from the Kingdom of Flesperia, whose capital city had the same name, because of the war that happened years ago between the rebels and those loyal to the former High King.

Caltha saw astonishment in the boy's eyes like he'd never seen the buzzing life of civilization the minute they stood by the threshold. "You've never been here, have you?"

The boy shook his head.

This settlement was currently shrouded in mist. Steel towers protruded through the white cloud, reaching their peak in the sky. To the west of the city was the ocean, ports lined the shore, but the body of water was murky and no one knew what lay underneath. The rest of the city was bordered by the dead forest which was made eerier by the haze.

She dragged him along, hoping he knew the place somehow. "Is it okay if I give you a name?"

"I-I'm not a pet!" The boy exclaimed, interpreting her in a different way.

"No, no, I don't mean that. I just thought it would be weird not to call you anything. So, may I?" She corrected, this time, asking in a gentler tone. One that was meant to make him agree.

"O-okay."

He waited. He followed her lavender hued eyes. She looked around the dead forest, the mountains, then she paused at the darkening horizon. The sky's twinkle reflected in her eyes. She mumbled something to herself.

"Sirius. Does that sound fine?" Caltha declared. Not sure whether he wanted it or not, but his reaction confirmed that he liked it.

A shy one, perhaps timid, beamed back at her as a reply, almost as if the boy wanted to hide his approval.

Sirius accepted his new identity. "Yes."

With a smile, he looked innocent despite witnessing how he outdid the slavers. Caltha smiled back. "And one more thing. Don't tell anyone about my mahiqa, okay? Let's keep it between us."

She linked her pinkie with his in a swear. "It's a promise, okay?"

When they neared the first steel building that greeted them, Sirius's hesitation bore him motionless, standing behind Caltha a few feet away.

"What's wrong?" But she didn't need an answer. The look in his eyes told her that he was hesitant to bathe in society. He hid in an alleyway, looking around defensively, clutching his spearblade close.

"Caltha!"

Caltha turned to face a man who approached them. "Crolis."

Crolis knelt to inspect her for any injuries. "Thank Idianale you're alright. We've sent a search party for you. What did they do to you? Are you hurt anywhere? How did you escape?"

Caltha pointed at Sirius. "I'm fine, Crolis. It's thanks to him. He actually has nowhere to go. Can he stay with us?"

Crolis glanced at the boy and narrowed his gaze. The worry in his eyes slowly turned into a frown.

Sirius didn't like the look Crolis gave him. He smelled disapproval. Should he strike first or should he wait for the man to go first?

Caltha sensed that something wasn't right. "Crolis?"

Crolis shook his head. "We can't take him with us. He better find someone else to take him in," he turned to the boy. "I don't know who you are, but I appreciate your help."

Crolis dragged Caltha with him.

Caltha couldn't understand what was wrong. Why would her guardian turn away someone in need of shelter? In the wastes of all places?

She looked back at Sirius over her shoulder. "Thank you!"

Stranded in a foreign place, Sirius held his spearblade tightly and pressed himself against the wall of the nearest building. He eyed every person who passed the evening by. He's never seen a lot of people before. Were they weird like Caltha? Were they strict like the man who accompanied her back? Were they dangerous or deadly?

That curiosity dwindled to a halt when he saw a group of people arguing over the last stock of food on a peddling merchant. They were ready to beat each other up, arguing about starvation and the shortage on every single stall. Desperate to feed their families as they threw away compassion and pride.

Sirius wondered why people treated each other that way. Was the outside world that dismal? He didn't know. In fact, he didn't know anything of the outside. It was all new. He needed guidance.

There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Saihme?"

Unfortunately, Saihme hadn't showed himself up, not in a while during his aimless travels.

He hid behind the building. He disliked the idea of people seeing him or discovering him. It was getting dark. The streets were damp, and he was hungry. What would his mentor do if it were him?

He found himself looking back at the commotion, if something were to give him a sign perhaps this was it. He wanted to know how the argument would conclude.

Will one of them die? Will one of them go back home with food on their table? Will anyone regret the actions they've delivered? It was only going to end in one way.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. A curious man stood before him with a smile on his face. Sirius was being offered a home to stay, but there was always a catch for such generosity.

The man needed his services in exchange for shelter. Because he was an orphan.

What else could he do? Where else could he stay? So he agreed. He couldn't witness how the fight at the market ended, but he found a place to stay as a result.

They traveled the path to the man's residence, overlooking the city from the distant hill they stood on. Sirius noticed the man stopped briefly. His gaze was fixated on the city down below. Hues of rust hovered above it.

"Somehow, I'll try to gain back everything that once belonged to them. To us. And I need your help."

There was no hesitation in his heart when he said those words. It was only the beginning when he smiled, and the young boy, his mere innocent witness. All that within this rusting city, a city long stranded in the wasteland of the empire. The City of Rastite.