Chapter 1
600 B.C.
The world faced significant political, urban and cultural expansion — Greeks found Marseille, Etruscans dominated Rome, and Nebuchadnezzar II constructed the hanging gardens. Static electricity and properties of magnetism were observed. Science developed. The world flourished as rulers stepped on their own people. At the surface, kingdoms were stable. Beyond that, bloody screams and footsteps ring upon every individual's ears along the bricked streets. Strict rules, poverty, discrimination, and brutal methods of execution for consequences of breach killed many.
Xander, son of Zale was an orphan. He would spend his days tending to his ill brother, telling morale stories to the younger kids, and helping out senior, local merchants carry sacks. He pulled out weeds with the same hands he protected his people, and prayed with his kind, sorrow heart. He wanted many things. Perhaps a guardian, or unlimited food. Yet, every time he clasped his hands together and closed his eyes, he would always pray for the same thing —
"God, give me strength. Allow me to have no fear, not even of death."
The plea was interrupted as a younger kid jumped on his back. Xander flinched, then sighed in exasperation. "Didn't I tell you to behave?" He scolded, yet smiled softly at seeing his overly enthusiastic younger brother. Xander straightened up, turning around to face him. The frail and pale body left no doubt. It was Andreas. Andreas hugged Xander with all the strength he could, smiling brightly. "I brushed away all the leaves from the entrance! Now you have one less task to do." Xander's heart clenched as he cupped Andreas' cheek, rubbing away a trace of grime with his thumb. Guilt consumed his aching heart. "You shouldn't have. But I am grateful. I just wish... I could feed you a bread extra every morning. I just wish I could grant you all the luxuries in life and protect your fragility."
Xander carefully extracted himself off Andreas, watching him cling to his finger with concern before hesitantly pulling back. I wish I had time to play with you forever, brother.
Xander's back hunched from the weight of the sacks, dragging his legs along the bricked streets. In the nearby market, commotion stirred. Xander observed as a common thief had stolen a basket of bread and charged past him. With instinct, Xander's hand shot out, catching his wrist in a vice-like grip. The thief looked at Xander, eyes wide with terror, dropping the basket on the ground. Feeling the grip loosen momentarily, the thief took the chance to sprint off once again. Xander picked up the basket and looked around. The coast was clear. His legs hesitated. His kind heart couldn't steal, yet, the image of his hungry brother in his mind made his jaw clench with grim resolve. He muttered an apology to God under his breath, and took a swift turn to the corner, walking swiftly, but not quite running. His white cloak kept pace with the gentle wind, flowing softly. As soon as he reached the familiar pavement, he burst in his small abode, catching sight of Andreas drinking water with teary eyes, struggling. As soon as Andreas caught sight of Xander, he dropped the cup with a clank, eyes shining under the darkness. Xander rushed over to Andreas and sat on the mattress next to Andreas, moving to pull Andreas on his lap. "Did you sense how much I missed you and returned home?" Xander smiled sombrely, picking up a piece of bread from the basket and feeding it to Andreas with his own hands. One bread after another disappeared from the basket to Andreas' stomach, only the sounds of quiet chewing echoing. No one spoke, yet, Xander observed the way Andreas breathed more with ease, his skin colored with nourishment. It made Xander tear up.
"Will I be able to eat like this tomorrow again, brother?"
"Yes, every day, Andreas."
And that day, Greece's famous thief was born. Markets hate his name, guards are hungry for the bounty over his head, and locals admire him. Everyday, Xander ate bread from his own sack, and fed his brothers and sisters all the stolen sweets. In that area, he wasn't perceived as a thief— he was seen as Lord. The giver. It had been 3 years.
Yet, happiness is fleeting. With time, light falls upon the dark.
...
"No! Let go of my brother! Yo-"
THWACK!
Xander winced in pain as he heard the guard slap Andreas, unable to look at him. The two guards yanked him further away, "Comply, unless you want your brother to suffer the same fate as you." He was dragged through the streets as people came together and whispered among each other. Finally, the overly annoying thief was caught, brought to Solon himself— Greece's lawmaker. Xander's face was covered with bruise and snot as he was thrown to his knees in front of Solon. His sandal's stepped closer to Xander's trembling body, rising up to land a vicious kick on his temple, making Xander cry out in pain. "Well, haven't you just been a pain in the arse," He gruffed out, stepping closer, making Xander whimper pathetically. Solon glanced at the guards. "Brazen Bull."
The crowd hushed into silence, Xander's face darkening. The guards immediately sprang into action, restraining the squirming boy as Xander thrashed and pleaded, knowing how futile it was. "No! I beg of you! Please-" His voice contorted into a scream as he was shoved inside the bronze bull, doors slamming shut. From outside, his screams were suppressed but heard. Many stepped away, uncomfortable, while Solon watched with calculated eyes as he was about to arise the fire. His hand hovered over the brutal beginning, pausing when protests arose from the crowd. Kids, seniors, men, and women screamed, victims of the unfair laws, eating a little more everyday due to 'Lord Xander.'
"Stealing is not a crime, it's survival from the cruel birthranks!" People shouted. Solon's jaw clenched with anger, as he twisted the knob, watching as flames enveloped the bull. Xander's echoing, bloody screams were distant but deafening. As time went, the screams grew weaker, and the flames grew stronger.
83 minutes later
Solon grinned cruelly as the restless crowd, barely held back, kept shouting with sore throats. "Lord, we need him," "Lord, give the man his strength." "Lord, give him life."
Life. Strength. Time. It was all heard in the regular prayers.
Hiss.
The heated bronze door opened, smoke escaping. Solon stepped closer, grin wider. Andreas, still restrained by guards, watched the scene heartbroken. He was on his knees, dried tears streaking his cheeks. He didn't have the strength to cry anymore. His disheveled, curly hair fell over his face, representing his fallen soul.
The crowd gasped, making Andreas slowly lift his head with effort. A blacker hand gripped the edge of the door. Then came the head, peering out the door. Hair burnt, skin scarred, eyes soulless. Those eyes landed on Andreas' same soulless ones. "You too?" Xander smiled.
Xander sighed, his broken limbs twisting unnaturally to crawl out of the door, looking up at the darkening sky. Guards run away, the crowd fall silent, and Solon could only freeze. The guards let go of Andreas, making him stay still on his knees.
"Impossible," Solon breathed, ears ringing.
"Looks like God listened."
