“Come on, brother! Let us retrieve some of the commoner’s grass make whistles!” Bergio skipped ahead merrily, down the stoned streets of Caelin. Lucifer laughed as he ran after his little brother, chasing him down the street, approaching the edge of the Mathys River. They neared the edge of the water as is softly splashed onto the stone floor. Lucifer leaned down and put his fingers in the stream, the cold water running swiftly through his fingertips. Reaching further down, he grasped as some loose rivergrass and pulled up, ripping them out of the ground of the edge. Handing a grass blade to his little brother, the two galevanted down their street again, holding the grass between their thumbs and
~~
The bright, orange flames sparkled, dazzling, almost beautiful. They jumped from rooftop to rooftop, victim after victim. Lucifer could barely see anything amid the lucid black smoke that covered the streets. All around him, piercing screams and rotting wood lit the air with a horrible sound. He felt a hand grab him by his arm, pulling him away.
“Lucifer, run, my boy, we must depart! Lucifer!”
The aching sound of his mother as she tripped over a passing guard..the sickening crush as her skull became lovers with the cold, stoned floor that Lucifer has lived upon all his life..
He woke up with a start, banging his head on he low overhead stone above his mat. Rubbing it with his right hand, he leapt out of bed and looked around. He was naked, his robe neatly patted down on the foot of the bed. Picking it up, he slid his left arm into the armsaye, then his right. Pulling the robe over his toned body, he fidgeted a bit. It was still a bit crusted from the dried blood near the foot of the cloth. Fleeting the hood over his head, he moved over to a empty table near his bed. Leaning down, he moved his fingers along the hardwood and found a small, metal orb. Twisting it, he activated a hidden mechanism underneath the table that opened the inner hollow table into a shelf of weapons. He slid a few throwing knifes under his robe on his back, and closed the table. Kissing his sleeping mother goodbye, he opened the sliding rock door and reentered the sewers.
Arriving outside, he took a look at the mound in the ground. The wooden slider was sealing shut. Brushing his foot against some dirt, he took off down the abandoned village street, sprinting full tilt. When the dirt of the village street slowly merged into the stone of the city road he moved to the right, leaping up to a overhead rafter of a run-down tavern. Stepping up, he pushed off the rafter onto the roof, and ran. Leaping from the roof with a quiet tap, he landing on the roof of the store next to the tavern.
He continued this motion along the roofs of the stores and buildings until he noticed more and more populous in the streets of the city, walking around quickly and muttering to themselves. Innocent victims of Bogdan’s tyrannical masquerade. Moving farther away from the streets, he leapt down from a high roof into a cover, rolling. He continued to run across the roofs until he reached a old, grey blocked building marked with tattered flags bearing the emblem of the King three generations ago. Searching along the wide roof cover, he found it: a small drophole near the corner. Walking over, his heart hammering from the long sprint, he let himself slip into the drophole.
Landing on his toes, he arrived in a dark room, the only light source arriving from the drophole and the outline of a door that led to the rest of the building. He spoke.
“Expecting me, m’dear?”