"You don't want to mess with me boy," came the menacing voice through the circulating mist. Around them was darkness, the only light came from the pale light of the waxing moon. Breck grabbed the hilt of his sword and pulled it from its sheath. He held it in front of him, his emerald eyes flashing back towards him in the blade's reflection.
The man slowly unsheathed his sword and Breck saw its pale gleam blade before it was engulfed back into the mist. His opponent made the first move, clashing the two blades together.
"What's your name; one that dares to challenge me?" he questioned.
"B-" Breck started, but changed his mind, "Altaire," he lied. The silhouette of the man became clear. Breck stared at it and realized the man's looming shadow towered over him.
"Liar," the man hissed through his teeth, "I know who you are boy…I know what you are," Breck was motionless. His body was paralyzed, not that he would run if he was able to.
"Consider yourself lucky, you are being given the chance many would die for, and they are already dead. Leave now, and never return!" Breck still wouldn't move.
He knew this man was serious, and he would never again get the chance to turn back, but he couldn't he had to rescue the-
"Leave this place!" the man hissed, in a threatening voice, interrupting Breck's thoughts. The mist around them turned to a thick heavy fog, laden with mystery, and death.
"Go!" threatened the man, putting strength on the blades, causing Breck to sweat to keep them from breaking apart "Or I will have to hurt you!" Breck still didn't move.
"I will not leave," he whispered boldly. A quick flash of the man's pale sword and the split-second Breck had turned to slow motion as he watched it enter his fell to his knees, while everything around him faded into black darkness. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if to squeeze out the pain eroding his mind. He thought of other things and not of the sword in him. He thought of how he would never get to see her again. Be it his fate or just the ending of his short-lived life. He barely even felt the pain of the sword in him.
"This isn't so bad," he thought, "at least it'll be quick, its already getting lighter…"
The sword was pulled from his stomach and then put back in. Pain exploded from his shoulder, which didn't quite make sense, as the sword was put in his stomach.
"Get up," came the voice. Breck opened his eyes. He had been sleeping! A tall guard with a club was standing over him. He had dark eyes that stared down at Breck, and a hooked nose protruded from his scarred face.
Breck tried to obey, but he was not fast enough for the scar-faced guard. The club came down and hit Breck on the head. He blacked out and knew nothing else.
Breck awoke to find himself right where the scar-faced guard had found him: sleeping behind a prickly bush in the dirt. He sat up, his head was throbbing and his ribs seared in pain whenever he breathed. Breck knew he had to leave that part of the city; the guard would be back to arrest him after he had been reported.
Looking up at the now night sky; Breck saw dusk was just beginning to fall. The sky had a faded look about it. Colors had blended together to create a glowing sunset of pink and orange; trees and buildings, and the castle off in the distance, were silhouetted against the sky. High up, the first silver stars were appearing, winking at all who gazed upon them.
Not looking, or even caring where he was going, Breck began to wander around in search of a new home. He had done it many times before.
Life on the streets of of Dulnoir began when Breck was very small, about 10 years ago. An old widow, who had recognized him as the son of his parents had found him wandering around. She told him his mother died in a terrible accident and that his father was a traitor to the King and also shamelessly abandoned him. Breck had asked more questions, but the widow would give him no more answers.
When she died, Breck had no one else. He was alone to fend for himself. He had no money or possessions at all. The widow though, had left him a strange pendant. It was oddly shaped and Breck thought it was a supposed to be a star. It seemed to be extremely tarnished silver, although he wasn't sure. On it were some words (that's what Breck thought they were anyways) written in some foreign language Breck had never seen before.
Here's what it looked like:
From the time Breck saw those strange markings, an obsession had come over him. He began to first memorize the strange markings individually, but soon he had memorized the whole thing. He wrote them in the dirt whenever he was bored.
After walking and wandering around, Breck came upon a place he had never been before. It was a grove of trees, right outside the outskirts of the village. In the middle of the small grove was where the mountain beside the castle began, and in the mountain was a small cave, (more a hole really), barely visible in the night sky.
Breck stooped down and peered inside. It was dark and dank and there would be barely enough room for him to curl up, but it was good enough. He yawned and realized how tired he was, even though he had been sleeping all day.
"I could stay here awhile," Breck thought to himself and began to squeeze in. It was very tight, and it took awhile, but he finally fit.
Just before he was about to drift off, a cool breeze swept across his face. He opened his eyes to see a bright star, twinkling innocently at him through a hole in the top of the cave. The star was the brightest one in the sky. It was the star the people called Tûthlíen: Immortal prince of the skies.
Breck sighed and thought about all that had happened to him in his life, as he often did before he drifted off. He often wondered what life, as a normal kid would have been like. He wondered where his father was and if he was missed. He tried to watch Tûthlíen twinkle and wink as he thought, but he found his eyelids growing heavy. The clock tower struck midnight, causing Breck to jump. After he had finally calmed down, he realized something.
"I'm fourteen," he said aloud, before he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
As Breck slept that night, he had no idea at what would happen to him. He had no idea about the foreigner coming to Dulnoir. And he especially had no idea who he was going to meet the very next morning.