Once upon a time…
In a strange and distant world,
There lived a young boy.

Was a gentle lad.
Never harmed a single soul.
That did not matter.

They came with torches.
They took everything from him.
Robbed him of his life.

He watched his home burn,
and stared as the flames engulfed it:
Everything is now gone.

Things did not matter.
His mother had been inside.
He watched from the woods.

Finally, night came.
Stars above his home of ash.
He now had a purpose.

Home no longer burns.
Amongst the charred flesh, a sword.
It was his Mother’s.

Tears of anger…Hate.
Now one reason left to live.
He was young…must train.

At constant practice.
Every day for ten years,
Determination.

His home: The outskirts.
Far from the city of walls:
A terrible place.

Only one way in.
The sewers: Filled with terrors.
Won’t stand in his way.

He walked in the dark.
Sounds of evil all around.
Not his concern though.

They sensed his mission.
Could feel his unbridled rage.
They would not stop him.

He climbed a ladder.
A new bright neon-lit world.
Blue and pink collide.

The rain, a soft mist.
His enemies were unaware.
The sword craves vengeance.

He moved swiftly now.
The first guard was caught unaware.
The sword tore through flesh.

They begged for mercy.
There was none to be found here.
Metal bathed in blood.

He fought with pure rage.
Screaming as the bodies fell.
Sweet adrenaline.

King’s palace ahead.
He was the cause of all this.
His head would soon roll.

So man and blade fought.
Every obstacle fell.
He burned all of it.

The flames grew in size,
His rage was fueled by the embers.
At last… the throne room.

Finally, the King.
His armor was black as night.
His eyes seemed so tired.

The king raised his sword.
“I always knew you would come,”
He said angrily.

“I loved your mother,
but she could never be queen,
She was not royal.”

“She did not want it,
but she demanded your place.
Claimed you were my heir.”

“A bastard would not….
This kingdom deserves better.
You were not worthy.”

“But you are now boy,
the king of nothing but ash.
How does that feel, child?”

Simple politics.
The young man trembled with rage.
His life was stolen.

And for what reason…?
He sought no power from here.
He sought no man’s throne.

His mother had burnt…
Because of a coward’s chair.
She deserved better.

He had heard enough.
He screamed and charged his father.
His steel was hungry.

They both swung their blades.
The head of the mad king rolled.
A fallen tyrant.

He wept in relief.
But then he spotted a child,
A young girl of six.

Flames surrounded both.
She was his sister.
An heir…Royalty.

Her father was dead.
Yet his legacy lived on.
Children are cursed by blood.

He approached the girl
and then gave her his hand.
Together they left.

She would remember…
He would raise and train the girl.
She will then decide.

If she wished vengeance…
He would not fight against her.
She deserved her peace.

An innocent soul,
An endless cycle of hate…
It will end with him.