[FOUR YEARS AGO]
A dim light glows in a dark room. Barahir lays down on his king-sized bed under white blankets, his head resting on a green pillow. He sits up on his bed, and stares into his wall.
What do I do tomorrow? I really want to surprise mother and father! Barahir thinks to himself with a bright, innocent smile on his face. His hands are clasped together in excitement as he gets up and out of bed.
He puts on his usual attire, a dark-green shirt paired with deep brown pants, a gold necklace and a pair of midnight boots, and sneaks out through his window. He falls on a bush, and stands up, dusting himself off in the process. The ten-year-old elven boy looks up at the estate he lives in, a gigantic, pearly-white mansion, its walls made up of marble, gates made of silver.
Barahir walks around his garden, gazing at the bright yellow flowers which shine brightly despite the tranquility of night. He walks out of the silver gates of his estate as he traverses through the lively streets at night.
It's so lively despite it being night time… I wasn't expecting this as all… Barahir zones out, staring at the crowded streets.
No! I mustn't get distracted… I am here to buy mother and father a gift! Barahir reminds himself, slapping his cheeks with his hands.
He starts walking towards a nearby firework shop. As he reaches it, a loud bang can be heard from the sky. Barahir looks up in awe, as the huge fireworks start creating sparks in the sky. Suddenly, a gut-wrenching scream can be heard from multiple directions. Everybody starts looking around in all directions, trying to identify where it came from, and their eyes land on an estate towards the north.
Eh? Why is that building on fire..? Wait… Barahir realizes something, a feeling deep in his gut. His eyes widen as he remembers an important detail…
"AAAH! MOTHER! FATHER!" Barahir wakes up, screaming on his bed.
"Oh… just a nightmare…" Barahir sighs in relief, yet the nagging feeling in his gut does not disappear.
Barahir stands up and opens the door to his room. He slowly, quietly walks into the hallway, a dark place with the only source of light illuminating it being from the moon. He tip-toes over the crimson carpet in the hallway and moves toward the staircase.
Hm? What'd I step o- Barahir's face pales, and his eyes widen.
"MOTHER! FATHER! NO! WHO DID THIS TO YOU!?" He screams, staring at their lifeless corpses in the moonlight's illumination through the windows in the hallway.
Wait… maybe they're still alive! Barahir thinks, and kneels down, placing his right hand on his mother's heart, and his left hand on his father's.
"No… this… this is just- (sigh)" Barahir simply sighs in defeat, as he feels that their hearts are not pumping anymore. Tears flow freely down his face.
Whoever did this to you both… I swear I will become stronger and kill them… I swear on my name as Barahir! Barahir steels his resolve, and goes to his parents' room, leaving their bodies by the top of the staircase. He picks up the framed painting by their bed, of him and them smiling together, truly happy among each other.
I miss you… father… mother… just why did you leave me so soon..? Barahir continues crying, as a few sobs break through his sealed lips.
Barahir notices an envelope by his parents' bedside. He opens it only for it to read 'HAPPY 11TH BIRTHDAY TO YOU MY SON BARAHIR!'.
He lets out a few choked sobs, and reads the note again and again and again until the tears can flow no longer. He wipes his red, puffy eyes and stands up straight.
[THE NEXT DAY]
Barahir wakes up, and the first thing he does is bury his parents' bodies right next to each other in the backyard of their estate. He then walks into the city, and gets passed a newspaper by a local delivery man.
"... 'Humans have been confirmed to have infiltrated Elahim and made their way into the Elven kingdom, killing and taking elves as slaves for their own use.'" Barahir reads the title of the newspaper, and stands in place. His knuckles have turned white with the sheer intensity with which he is gripping the newspaper. His gaze so piercing it could burn a hole in the newspaper.
Humans… so that's what it was… those little shits killed my parents… I will NEVER rest until I have gotten my revenge. NEVER! Barahir vows to himself. His jaw clenched, face red purely because of anger.
Barahir gets home, it's empty save for a few servants who attend to him and his needs. He isolated himself in his room.
I must get stronger… there has to be a way… I must find my Grand-Uncle, but I don't know where he is! Barahir thinks to himself, and decides to contact one of his only remaining uncles.
'Uncle, where is Grand-Uncle? I wish to get stronger, yet I cannot find him.' He writes in a letter which is then delivered to his uncle through a carrier pigeon.
'Barahir, my nephew. Your uncle has been out of the kingdom for a few years, but he will soon be back. He will be back by the 12th sunrise of the 7th month in the year 197 of the Elven Calendar.' Barahir reads the letter sent back by his uncle.
I see… I'd better be on the lookout, then. I will need to learn under the tutelage of my Grand-Uncle, since he is one of the strongest warriors in Elahim, at least he's said to be. Barahir ponders, his chin resting on his palm, which is faced upwards with his elbow resting on his study table.
"... But until then, I must keep on getting stronger…" He thinks out loud.
[PRESENT DAY]
In complete darkness, a little rustle can be heard, and a light green eye reflecting the moonlight can be seen moving slightly. As the moonlight shines further on the spot, green hair, pale skin, and stitches connect the person's upper and lower half.
"Who… are you..?" Barahir asks a hooded figure, who is sitting on a minotaur's carcass, roasting its meat beside his stitched up body.