THE HEIR OF AETHER

The sun rose from the mountains over the village and just like every other day, everyone had began their daily activities. Aren Vale liked the early morning not just because of the beauty that nature had to offer, but because it was quiet for thinking. He sat on the wooden chair of his family's house, watching the sun glow even brighter than it first set out earlier. His hand rest on his knees completely thin. Behind him, the room starts making faint noise and it was the clue he needed to know that his father was awake. Aren did not turn around to meet his father's gaze. He did not need to. He knew the sound of his father's boot when they step on the floor. There was a pause before the door opened and he heard a heavy sigh from his father before he stepped out. "You are up early." His father said. "Yes sir." The word sir, slipped out without putting much thought to it. Aren used these sentences to keep the conversation with his father very short. When he finally turned to look at his father, he was seeing a tall and broad man, who even with age no longer favouring him, could bend his shoulders. The villagers called his father Guardian Vale sometimes, although he did not carry the title for so many years. His father's eyes drifted to Aren's chest. The Mark was faint this morning. It usually was. A small symbol was etched into Aren's skin like needle pressed to the flesh. The Broken Mark. Everyone called it that name. His father looked away first. "Don't forget to bring water to the fields," He said. "Your mother will be needing help later." "I will not forget." There was nothing much to say. It has always been that way Aren waited until his father walked out before dropping his shoulders. The awkward conversations between both his father and Aren should never exist, but there was nothing he could do about it. An hour later, across the road Aren heard laughter. There boys all a year younger than Aren were sparring with wooden blades. They were clumsy in their strike but their confidence was noticable. They wore fresh Marks on their arms, it was small flames with a faint spark. A clear sign that something was growing within. One of them turned and noticed Aren was watching. "Look who we have here. The weak one!" The boy called. "Careful, I heard you could trip over your own shadow." The others laughed out loud. Aren looked down at the ground in pain instead of responding to them. He picked up his water pail and start to walk away from the scene as the laughing died down. While he was walking, he noticed something strange. The birds had stopped singing near the forest. The air felt heavier than before and evidence of footprints on the soil indicating humans had walked that same path. No one else seemed to see it. Or maybe they did not care. At noon, the sun generated so much heat. Aren's work shirt was soak with sweat. His body was weak with every movement he made. He was moving slower than others, but he did not stop. Close to the well, he heard two women whispered. "Did you hear?" One said. "The scholars, they confirmed it. That boy's Mark will never awaken." "What a waste," the others replied. "His father must be ashamed." Aren felt the words hit him hard in the chest. Every time he thought he could get used to people calling him a disgrace, he was wrong. Their words will never settle with him. Later that night, the villagers all gathered around for supper under the fire light. Food was shared amongst everyone and the young children listened to tales from the older people. Aren sat close to the edge, listening to people's conversations more than the food he was eating. His father sat right across him but they did not say anything. Suddenly, there was a loud noise coming from the forest and everyone paused to listen. This was not a noise made by animals. Some of the older men in the village stood up ready to defend their loved ones. There was a shadow moving between the trees. Someone yelled and it was followed by another scream. Several creatures step out of the forest. They were not humans. They were tall, thin and had too many limbs. "Monsters!" Someone cried out. There was panic everywhere as people ran for their lives. The village bell rang but it soon stopped as the rope was cut by something unseen. Aren froze. His mind was all over the place, paying attention to the way the creatures moved. They were ruthlessly slow in their attack, picking out the villagers that were to weak to run. This was planned, his mind whispered. "Aren!" He heard his father's voice amidst the chaos around him. Aren turned and gasped. There was a creature from the dark. It raised it claws and Aren's leg could not move as he watched the horrific event. It cut through his father and he fell to the ground. "No!" Aren rushed forward. He stated at his father watching blood gush out of his flesh. The man was breathing heavily. "Get back!" His father shouted with a weak voice. Another monster was approaching and Aren rose up from his father and stared down at the creature. It lunged forward and Aren closed his eyes ready for impact but nothing happened. He heard another growl and opened his eyes. "Father No!" His father had taken another hit on his behalf and this time his father fell flat to the floor, holding unto his rib cage as more blood spill out. "I am here," Aren said as he knelt beside his father with trembling hands. "I am here." "You should have run away." His father whispered. Aren shook his head hard. "No. No, I--" His father's hand held on tight to Aren's sleeve. "I was wrong." He said. The words came out of his mouth slowly. "I was wrong about you." Aren felt his breath stopping. He had waited his whole life to hear these words from his father, but they came at the worst possible moment. "I did not know what to do," His father continued. "This is my fault, not you." Aren felt hot tears dropping out of his eyes. "please father," He whispered. "Stay. Please." But it was too late. Aren watched as his father's eyes closed and his breathing stopped. He shook his father once and felt no pulse.