15 years earlier - Macon
"I'm here, where is my son?" My dad asked warily.
The man holding my arm in a vice like grip, shoved me forward out of the shadows. I'm not completely sure what's going on, I only know that I don't like this game we're playing anymore. I want to go home, see my mama.
" You didn't hold up your end of the bargain." The man's deep voice rumbles, sounding angry.
I didn't know what I was getting myself into when he said we were going to play a game earlier that evening. He only said that he needs to talk to my dad first before returning me to my mama.
" I did, I've got the sword right here."
My dad unsheaths the sword from a scabbard tied to his back. The handle is golden, with ingravings on the hilt. It's so shiny that you can probably see your reflection in it.
"Now give me my son!" My dad says a bit desperately.
I turn my head slightly to see the man narrowing his eyes. His grip on me tightens and I whimper in pain.
"I don't know. I think I'll keep little Macon here for myself, he looks like he can be quite useful. Especially since he's half bad half good, don't you think?" He looks contemplative, stroking his short stubble.
"No please! I did what you ask!" My dad clutches the sword against his chest, his knuckles white from his death grip.
I'm starting to think this man isn't very good. I start struggling in his arms, trying to reach my dad.
"Let me go! I want to go home,"I whimper.
When he doesn't let go, I use the move my father taught me. I kick backward, feeling the satisfying crack of the man's knee breaking. He let's go of my arm and I run toward my dad.
" Kill him! Bring me the boy, "the man screams, grimacing in pain as he sinks to the ground.
A number of men appear from the shadows, wearing pitch black clothes. None of them say a word nor do they make a sound as they move forward. My father's eyes widen, quickly moving toward me. Just before he reaches me, one of the men tackle him to the ground. He grunts in pain, clutching his side. I can see blood pooling underneath his body. When he turns onto his side, the end of the blade is the only thing visible. I scream but am quickly silenced when a hand covers my mouth and the other lifts me from the ground.
I scream into the hand and kick my feet around wildly as a a man moves toward my father. He rolls him onto his stomach, taking the sword out of his side. My father screams in pain, but as the man drives it into his heart, silence fills the air. I stare at my father's body, numb.
"Alright, bring him here. The rest of you track down his family. I want no survivors." The man slowly gets up, walking miraculously towards us.
Fear fills me as I finally realize what he is, an elf. He struggle even more when he nears me.
"You're a difficult child aren't you," He states.
He grabs my face in his, looking deep into my eyes. I still as power takes over my mind.
"You will not remember anything of the last 5 years of your life, including your parents. You will remember me as your father, your mother died giving child birth. Everyone blames you for her death, do you understand?"
"Yes dad," I reply mechanically.
The daze dissapears from my head, looking up at the man holding me.
"Why am I in the air?" I ask him.
"Oh, you fell and I was checking your knee for scrapes. How come you don't remember, did you hit your head as well?" My father asks in a casual tone.
I shake my head, never wondering why the man was angling me away from the corpse lying behind me.
"Good, you look fine to me. Let's head on home then."
My father grabs my hand after the man let me down, leading me towards the door.
"Alright son, I think you're old enough to start some training," my father says, sitting on his haunches in front of me.
"What training?" I ask looking around the room that I can't seem to recall.
We arrived at a house about 10 minutes ago. It was in the middle of town, surrounded by an iron fence and an unkempt lawn. The house was huge, with close to 30 people staying in it. My father said to never talk to these people because they're dangerous. I saw a few children about my age when we were walking through the hallways. We passed the kitchen and what looked liked an entertainment centre. We walked up the stairs and into the last room at the end. I asked my father where we were and he said my room, with a confused expression.
"Training to keep you safe from all the bad men of course," he says, getting up and walking towards my bed.
"Will there be other children there?" I ask feeling excited.
"There will, maybe you could make some friends."
I nod my head vigorously, liking the idea of making some friends. I didn't notice it then but my father grinned at me maliciously. I just thought he was as excited about friends as I was.
"Let's go then, practise starts in a few minutes."
I grab his outstretched hand and together we walk towards the beginning of my version of hell. I didn't realize it but this would be my last moments being an innocent child.