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The day was a nice one. The clouds were white, the sky was blue. The children played, while the adults worked throughout the day. Arthur Sataine was one of the children who enjoyed pretending to fight with sticks and buckets. All was good in the land of Darkmor. Suddenly the village horn was blown, sending out warnings of oncoming danger. They were quick and merciless, soldiers from Fervor had come to claim the land as their own. The soldiers killed all they could see. Watching his parents die right before his very eyes, Arthur ran to the woods to escape.
The soldiers were right behind him the entire way. Soon too exhausted from the constant running, Arthur collapsed under a giant tree. The soldiers pounced on him without hesitation. They beat him with the butts of their swords, cut him with the blades, and stabbed him with their spears. Nearing death, the youth passed out onto the ground. The soldiers kept at their assault. All of a sudden Arthur's body lifted into the air and began to fade in and out with a dark glow, healing his wounds. His hands burst into searing hot flames, and when he opened his eyes they were pupiless. A deep maroon filled his eye sockets, and they began to emit a darkpurple/maroon energy that left aftertrails when his head moved. The soldiers jumped back in awe. Then, quite abruptly, the surrounding area was enveloped with flames. Everything but Arthur was now burning cinders. The young boy fell to his knees in tears.