Chapter One

The first clear memory I have of my childhood is fleeing for my life. Men my father had known all his life turning on my family out of fear, ready to kill even children to appease their foolish gods. So we fled that night with only what we could carry, hounded by men filled with blood lust. That night my older brother fell, pierced by a dozen swords. It was the first time in my short four years that I had seen death and it was burned forever into my mind. Even now I clearly see his face frozen in death, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide and empty, life no longer there. Of course as with all the major events of my life there was a storm. The sky was filled with thick black thunder clouds, with ghastly red lightning illuminating the sky. It was my first true storm, back then it had seemed vast and boundless, though now it pales in comparison to what I’ve seen.

-Part of a recorded discussion between Agiads the Red King and the Son of Thunder.

The sound of metal ringing filled the small forest clearing where two men, rather two boys stood. Their blades held out in shaking hands, sweat raining from their bodies, soaking the ground. Since before the sun had risen they had spared under the watchful eyes of their teacher Fulgan who stood nearby, his steel grey eyes focused intently on every move made. Both were his students, his best in fact, among all the others he had taught only one was better, but that young man had been dead for six years.

“Stop! You two have spared enough. Agiads you lost, but only by a hair's breadth, your agility is superb and easily makes up for the difference in size and technique my son holds as an advantage.” he praised, talking to the smaller of the two. The boy was lean and thin, with a shock of red hair and a smattering of freckles across his youthful face. Agiads had childish face with a mischievous grin that sat comfortably there, almost never leaving. The only other and most notable of his features was the red three pointed crown that rested over his heart. It was a birthmark that sealed his fate as one of the cursed and the reason why he lived out here in the forest.

“Son, you did well. Though you have to train your agility, or Agiads will soon overtake you.” he said looking to the taller of the two boys, his own flesh and blood Taran. Like him, his son towered above others, even now he was nearly the same size as full grown man. This was due to the blood of the giants his grandfather claimed coursed through their veins. Thankfully his son had inherited some blood from his mother's side, he would be handsome when he grew older, with thick back hair and perfectly chiseled features. Not like his own harsh weathered look, which his wife loved for some reason. Looking at the gentle smile and warm look on his son’s face he was relieved, even though he knew that underneath his gentle exterior was something hard and cold like steel, ready to be called upon at moments notice. The vicious death of his brother had changed Taran and tempered him in a way no boy should have to be. Something that haunted Fulgan, if only he'd been stronger, the only thing he took solace in was that the smile was natural, his son could still laugh like a child.

“For now we’re done, go and do your chores. I have to prepare for the other students.” he said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. The two boys nodded and sheathed their swords before departing.

With a smile Fulgan watched them disappear into the forest before closing his eyes and mentally running the training routine planned for the rest of the children, they would be arriving soon.

Taran’s long stride let him keep pace with the much faster Agiads as they raced through the woods moving like shadows, their passing leaving hardly a trace, a skill honed by years of being hunted like animals for being born as one of the cursed, or in Taran’s case for being kin to one of the cursed. Chatting and laughing as they moved, they started to behave much more like children ready to play or in their case do chores now that training was over for the day.

Arriving at a small, gently flowing creek that was really little more than a stream, they came to a stop. Taking just long enough to remove their blades and peel off their breeches they jumped in with an excited yell. Surfacing they smiled at one another and laughed, gathering up the fine sand at the edge of the river they used it to help clean away the sweat and dirt from their skin.

Sitting on a large rock that jutted out into the river the boys leaned back, relaxing next to their breeches which had been laid out to dry. They wanted to make the most of the short break they had before chores. Suddenly Agiads looked over at Taran a serious expression on his face, to him Taran was like a brother, even since they had met they had been inseparable, “I want to show you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone, not even your dad. Okay?” the redhead asked his voice wavering, he was nervous, something which was out of character for the boy. “Don’t worry even a dragon wouldn’t be able to make me spill, we’re brothers after all.” Taran promised without a second thought. Despite his childish promise he was focused intently on his friend, he knew how serious this actually was by the lack of Agiads’ trademark grin. Giving a shaky smile Agiads spoke softly his voice just barely a whisper, “I think I’ve awoken my birthright.” Those simple words made Taran’s eyes widen and they explained exactly why Agiads was nervous.

Rarely people in this world were born blessed, or cursed, with powerful abilities that let them rise above the rest, or in legends, challenge the gods. They were divided into four categories; Bloodline powers, Spirit powers, Divine powers, and Infernal powers. Bloodline powers were as the name suggested unique to certain powerful bloodlines. The other three categories were powers gifted by powerful existences, far beyond mortals. At least that is what is taught. The one thing all shared was that the possessor would have a unique birthmark. For most this was a celebration, it meant their child was destined for greatness. However for an unlucky few they were born with a birthmark that was considered cursed and by order of the gods that child was to be put to death.

The red three pointed crown over Agiads heart was one such mark, it represented a cursed bloodline. Why it was considered cursed and what power it represented was a mystery. The original family was thought to have been wiped out centuries ago and naturally such knowledge was jealously guarded by the Temple of the Divine council.

“What is it?” Taran asked his voice lowered to a whisper. With that said his eyes searched the surrounding woods nervously, looking for anyone who might be spying. Copying Taran, Agiads nervously searched the water’s edge before bringing his thumb to his mouth. Biting down hard he broke the skin and a trickle of blood flowed down his hand. “Watch.” he said holding his arm straight out. The trickle of blood started to move faster, spiralling around his arm all the way to his shoulder before spiralling back on the same path and collecting in his palm. A moment later it was absorbed into his skin, vanishing. Stunned Taran stared, incapable of saying a word, it was the first time he had ever seen a Birthmark power and shocked him. “I can even close my wounds.” Agiads continued, the small slice on his thumb vanishing, leaving his thumb whole again, without even the trace of a scar. Looking at Taran he waited nervously for a response. Finally after a few heart wrenching moments Taran smiled "Incredible.” he whispered excitedly, patting Agiads back.

Sighing in relief Agiads felt a weight lifted from his shoulders, even though he expected things to go this way, there had always a hint of worry. Taran was the first to learn about his power after all, not even his Mother knew. In fact it would worry her, after all it had caused them no end of grief and suffering as they fled for their lives.

“There is more, it’s something that scares me.” Agiads continued slowly, “I can feel the blood inside of others, as if it were pumping through me. It rings in my ears like a… like a siren song, calling to me.” he whispered, looking at Taran, his friend’s blood song beating deafeningly in his head. It was like a set of war drums, full of youthful energy, whipping an army into frenzy. “That’s not what scares me; all of this would be manageable if it that was all it was. But it isn’t. Sometimes I feel a terrifying compulsion filling me, telling me to spill blood. To rend flesh and stain the ground crimson…” he paused fear on his young face, he didn’t want it. “It’s getting stronger every day, not by a lot, but still stronger” Agiads whispered hoarsely. Freezing for a moment felt a surge of power within, as if acknowledging his demons made them stronger. For a moment Agiads swore he could see the veins and arteries beneath Taran’s skin, the blood coursing through them forming a complex web all over his friend's body. He knew where he could strike to kill, it would only take a moment and the blood trapped within would spill free, his for the taking.

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as Taran clapped a hand on his silent friend’s shoulder, letting out a fearless chortle, “That is terrifying, but so what?” he asked, grinning. Just like that Agiads was brought back to reality his vision returning to normal while the compulsion vanished. Even the sound of Taran’s blood quieted to the slightest whisper. “Wha?” he mumbled, shocked by the laugh. “I said so what. Who cares about the compulsion, it’s just an obstacle to be passed. If it’ gets stronger, then you should do the same and beat it back until it can no longer resist.” he stated with childlike bravado, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Hearing Taran’s answer Agiads burst out laughing, it was childish and naive reasoning, but it was just what he needed to hear and so he laughed, laughed until tears formed at his eyes and his stomach cramped. As simple as Taran’s answer was it could solve his problem and he was ashamed he hadn’t seen it himself. Fear and worry have their place, but dwelling on them was useless, that was the first lesson Fulgan had taught them. If he wanted to fight the demon within he simply had to get stronger.

Still clutching his sore stomach Agiads stood “You always know what to say.” he said offering a hand to Taran, “I was born with this and I will make it mine.” he said, his voice filled with conviction that would rival a boy many years older. Living on the edge of life and death forced one to either grow up early or die.

“You would have gotten there eventually.” Taran replied, as he collected their scattered gear. “Unless you have any other massive revelations, let's go our separate ways. Otherwise I’ll get a good tongue lashing from Gymir for being late again. Bellows don’t pump themselves after all.” Taran added, tossing Agiads his sword belt before pulling on his own breeches.

“Right, right. My mother will skin me if I’m late again.” the other young boy said with a reflexive shiver, his mother had tanned his hide on more than one occasion. Pulling on his breeches he dashed off into the woods, hoping to pick a few herbs on the way. Snickering Taran went in the opposite direction, heading to the small collection of structures that he considered his home.