In 3 days the slavers would arrive. Syryn thought back to when the incident had occurred and he remembered a crucial detail. The slavers were masquerading as traders who would settle down next to their target town. While they ‘traded’, they would also scope out the town’s security and then attack them once they were certain of their own strength against the villagers.

A tiny part of Syryn wanted to watch with schadenfreude as the village burnt down to a crisp under the hands of the slavers. He didn’t care at all for the village folks that had shown not a shred of empathy for an orphan begging on the streets. Why should I care? He asked himself and proceeded to do the opposite of what he had professed.

“They’re here milky.” Syryn watched from atop a hill as a long line of trading convoys came to a stop beside the village.

He spent the entire evening watching them set up camp and then planning for what was to be done at night. Syryn had a rough idea of what he needed to do to save the townsfolk and the other slaves that were hidden inside the circle of caravans.

“Meow”

Milky was sat on top of Syryn’s head. He kneaded the silky hair with his soft pink toe beans. “Meow”

“I guess it’s time. Let’s go.” Syryn stuffed milky back into his pocket and the kitten obediently waited inside.

The moon was a globe of pale yellow in the sky when Syryn hummed a little tune and stumbled into the circle of trading caravans. Most people were asleep but the guards that were spread outstayed on alert and had noticed Syryn’s arrival.

“Kids aren’t allowed inside here.” A gruff voice warned him. Syryn naively looked up at the guard and made a show of fear.

“I’m s-so sorry. I lost my way. My father and I were chopping wood but he fell off a cliff while plucking a rare fruit. Please help him.” He choked through tears and begged the guard. The heartless man just shoved Syryn away when he tried to touch the guard.

“Does anyone else know you’re out here?” He loomed over the fallen Syryn who appeared pathetic and scared.

“N-no… Please don’t hurt me, sir.” He cried. “Please.”

A big rough palm pulled Syryn up and he was dragged off by the guard. His little feet stumbled and tripped but the hand did not relent. When they got close to a large cage that was half-covered by a filthy cloth, Syryn was flung inside. The guard left after slamming the door shut with a bang.

Syryn patted the dust off his clothes and stood up. He looked around him and noticed about 10 children inside the cage. Emaciated and clothed in rags, they gathered around each other and whispered in low voices. He wasn’t welcome amongst them. Just when Syryn was about to turn away, he noticed a patch of red behind one of the crouched kids. Upon closer inspection, he realised it was a red-headed kid. The child blocking the redhead moved at that moment and revealed a little boy.

Syryn sucked in a shocked breath and hissed. It couldn’t be! There was no way that it was him. But the red hair and the strikingly beautiful face were unmistakable, especially the beauty spot under the left eye. It was Lucien, a demon halfbreed like Syryn who would single-handedly cause war to break out between the kingdoms of Sigil and Qion. It would plunge the kingdoms and their surrounding neighbours into a time of darkness marked by death and famine. Lucien would be known to the world as the demon Lord of pain and suffering, a rose full of thorns that would suck the life from anything he decided to turn his ire towards.

But for now, here he was, an angelic little boy dressed in fine clothing that had become muddy and worn. Shut inside the cage like a beast, Lucien had drawn his knees up to his chin. His eyes were closed in rest.

Syryn was horrified at how lovable and cute this Lucien was. In his mind, he could only remember the bloodthirsty demon with an enchanting face that caught men and women alike in his web of death. Ruby coloured hair and eyes, the little boy would grow into a delicious poisoned apple. Syryn shuddered and turned away. What to do? Should he kill him right here and now? strangle the baby in its cradle? It would save the world of a demon Lord whose kill count would exceed the number generated by decades of war.

With his demonic heritage guiding him, little Lucien was already doomed to a life of internal strife. And if his demons won, there would be hell to pay. Syryn had no idea about Lucien’s past but it was obvious that the cards that would decide Lucien’s fate had already been tossed. How would he get caught up with Traxdart and his minions? Syryn was torn between setting Lucien on fire and letting him escape with the other children. His sins hadn’t come to pass yet and Syryn wanted to give him a chance. Perhaps his fate will change when I free him today, Syryn mused.

Having made his decision, Syryn sat down cross-legged and watched the slave children. The oldest one looked to be about 16 years old.

“You, the one with a ponytail. Want to escape?” Syryn looked carefree and at home inside the cage. Lounging against the bars of the cage, he ignored all the eyes that turned to him. He was hyper-aware of Lucien so he noticed it keenly when the little boy turned his eyes on Syryn.

The ponytail haired teen looked distrustful of Syryn. He hesitated before replying. “How?”

“I’ll set fire to everything. You just have to run.” Syryn replied with a grin. “And don’t forget to release the other slaves. Strength in numbers and all that.” Syryn flippantly said his piece and with a theatrical swish of his hand, every single bar on the cage caught fire one after the one. Screams rang out from within the cage and Syryn made eye contact with Lucien whose attention was completely on him.

“..creepy,” Syryn mumbled

With a puff of his breath, the bar of ash in front of his face turned into powder and Syryn stepped out into a crowd of guards and slavers. He hadn’t tested out what it was like to set people on fire but it was worth trying. Syryn concentrated his powers on the nearest guard and succeeded partially.

“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!” The guard screamed and flapped his arms because his hair was on fire.

“Catch the slaves!” An old man shouted while pointing at the children.

Syryn immediately began setting everyone’s hair on fire and a chaotic scene ensued! The adults screamed while the kids dispersed in all directions to free the other slaves. He was a picture of calm as he walked forward one step at a time leaving behind a background of scorching flames and smoke. Each caravan that he walked past caught fire. There was no stopping the destruction. He felt drunk on the unrestrained power of his aggressively hot flames! Syryn wanted to burn the whole world down! A hellscape of sulphur and flames, ashes and the cries of-

There was a tug at the edge of his coat. Syryn turned his head and wide ruby red eyes met his own.