500 years before present time:

Asher looked around, his eyes taking in all the destruction and wreckage that was once a prosperous city. This was the result of war, there were so many that died, and so many things that were destroyed. It served them right, for they wished to fight, and in the end they had to pay a price. To him, destruction was just a way to mark the battles fought and the lives lost. He liked seeing it, because if he could see it then others could as well. It would be a reminder of what their ill feelings eventually led to.

All it takes is one tiny seed of hatred and then that seed will grow into a flowering vine. The flowers would spread the seeds and other vines would grow in other people and all together the people would become ensnared in their hatred until a canopy of vines grows to block out the sun. Asher had grown from these vines, but it was a very special vine that gave birth to him.

There had been two warring lands, both strong in their magical as well as physical capabilities. After forty years of fighting constantly, the two countries were still running strong. The wars would have continued on indefinitely had a special event not taken place.

That event was the birth of Asher, born from the bitterness and hate of the war-torn populations and mixed with the remains of blood-tainted magic left on the battlefields. After his 'birth', he wreaked destruction upon the two lands; making their palaces, temples, and houses into pebbles, and the people to dust. Even after doing all that Asher hadn't been tired. Decades of hatred that turned had into war fuelled his powers. The fear from the people as he decimated them and everything around them was simply an added bonus.

There had been nothing capable of getting rid of him then, and nothing was capable of it now. Their feeble attempts could not even begin to touch his hate-fuelled power. Hate mixed with blood-stained magic is a potent combination, nothing but disorder and death would ever spring from it. Asher was the result of that deadly mix, and they had no one to blame but themselves.

Banishing his thoughts for the moment, he walked around the pathways. He remembered where everything was because he walked the very same path in anticipation of wreaking havoc on the masses. He looked at the marble that had once made up the palace walls and then at the fine wood that had made the city dwellers' homes. This used to be such a spectacular city, the gem of the all the trade in the west. It was a marketplace of activity that sold all the fine silks and goods that people here were accustomed to. Too bad that the riches would be forever lost underneath the rubble, and certain secrets buried with them.

Asher had destroyed many of the cities in this nation within the past decades as they grew too full of themselves and the inequality between the rich and the poor became too great. You were either extremely rich or extremely poor, no middle ground and no chance for those that were poor to ever improve their station. Now that the guiltiest cities had been destroyed, the other cities had one chance shape up, or he would destroy all the cities in the nation.

300 years before present time:

Asher had been visiting small towns and villages in a particular country that he was looking to destroy soon. He had watched through years as the trading cities in the west died out and they gave way to cities like these, where there wasn't as much of a sizable gap between the rich and the poor but there was still one present. The crime of these cities rested in their willing participation with the country leader's greedy desire to expand his borders. This leader had been extending his borders more and more every month at an alarming rate. Many neighboring countries had already been annexed by force. In his zeal for more land, he forgot to pay attention to the situation in his own country, which was growing worse because of slack law enforcement.

The world had progressed from blocks of land to nations that were made of unions of cities, to countries with cities, towns and villages in them. There was only one central ruler for all the cities in the countries though and so it was hard to control the people in the large countries. The cities all had the same religious practices and holidays. Most of the people sold their wares in the marketplace for a living while others traded and some farmed.

In one city, he had been watching one man who had a wretched home situation. He usually was so busy with his work or his solitude that he never paid any attention to his family and therefore knew nothing about the lives that they led. He justified his actions by saying that what he was doing was for the good of the family, but his family resented him nonetheless.

And yet, after all this, the man became one of the greatest ironies that Asher had ever seen. For he wrote a poem and submitted it to the town bulletin after Asher destroyed one of the neighbouring cities:

Asher had to laugh after he read the poem. This was a man who never saw the world farther than his work and his room and yet he writes about what others should have done? The man should have looked to his own family's shadows first, because how could he expect others to change when he was too blind to see his own faults? He destroyed the city where the man lived after a few weeks.

150 years before present time:

Since the countries with the cities all under one rule had broken up, the world now had separate cities that were all governed by a separate ruler. During the last 200 years people started to develop culture, different religions, and especially, different languages. These changes led to the separation of people from each other and their isolation narrowed their opinions of each other until cities kept fighting each other because the people could not get along. The people stopped making an attempt to even understand each other; each race holding on to their beliefs that they were the people that were superior to all the others. Asher had started to destroy these cities one by one and still the other cities would not change. They only continued their petty fighting until there was so much distrust between people of different cities that there was no trade going on. The people were poisoning their children with their hatred for the other people so the next generations grew with a permanent hate embedded in them.

Asher was currently visiting the Paruparu people, and had just come back from visiting the countryside around the city. The walk was refreshing, as there were so many flowers and a profusion scents that filled the air. True to the people's name, multitudes of butterflies were to be seen, alighting on all the flowers. If the butterflies were startled from a tree or bush then they would all take to the air, looking like a carpet of colour against a blue sky.

Asher watched the children scamper along the streets, unaware of the danger about to befall their precious city. He saw the women with their goods and the men with their food as he entered the busy marketplace. He walked around in silence, but still began to draw stares as people took note of his unusual eyes. He loved seeing all the expressions on their faces - from adults to children - as they looked at where the black should be and saw only gold. At the little children, he just had to smile and they would run off afraid. He loved the children's expressions; first they were curious, then they were wary, and then they were scared. Adults on the other hand were already wary and some scared at sight of him. He guessed that maybe they outgrew their curiosity and they learned to ignore that little voice inside their heads that told them that something was wrong.

Upon looking around, he noticed that there were no butterflies that flew through the air here. Of course, how could something so beautiful live in such a negative and poisonous air? He turned through a narrow alleyway as he continued his thoughts, this time making himself ghostlike, something he did in order to pass by unnoticed when he wanted to. The small space between the buildings led him to an indentation in the wall and as he neared it he saw that there was a woman with a baby. The woman couldn't be more than twenty-five, and the baby looked like just a few weeks old.

What really caught his attention though was when the baby opened his eyes, eyes with pupils that matched Asher's own. As far as Asher knew, no one that he had ever met had the same pupils as him. His usual destruction loving personality felt at calm around this baby. He decided right then that this child was going to be spared from the destruction that was bound to happen. He was also going to spare some of the people from this city so that this baby could grow up with a tiny sense of normality.

Asher heard the woman talking to the baby a bit, just mainly cooing at him, and making sure that he didn't cry. He managed to catch the baby's name, which was Jainic, and then he smiled, not one of his disarming or malevolent smiles, but a sincere and gentle smile. He sat down right beside the baby and to his surprise, the baby's eyes seemed to catch his own. But it was only for a moment, and Asher wasn't sure if it really ever happened.

The next day, he toured the city again, visible to all. He always did this to cities right before they fell; before he speeded them to destruction. One by one the cities all fell because the people in them all grew so vengeful, feelings that attracted Asher. He liked to walk around the city to see what it was like and then compare it with the walks he always took after the city lay in ruins.

Except this time, there would be a difference. This time people would be spared, all because of the baby Jainic.

140 years before present time:

Asher spotted Jainic from far away and he marvelled at how much that tiny baby grew. He had to go away to the other countries and decided to come back now. He would always destroy the cities, but there would be new ones already growing. Then those new ones would be destroyed too someday. Ten years was nothing to him, but he was still eager to see how much Jainic had grown.

But as he neared, he noticed that Jainic wasn't that happy; in fact, he had a face that was far too serious for a boy so young as he stared sorrowfully at the clouds drifting in the sky. Jainic's eyes softened when they landed on some butterflies that were fluttering nearby. Asher observed him some more, following the solemn Jainic when he rose to enter the city.

Asher spent a few more days merely observing the life that Jainic was living, and was none too pleased at what he saw. Jainic was constantly being ridiculed because of his looks. His hair was black with gold tips and unnaturally long for a boy, then his eyes drew the stares that his hair did not, for his pupils were gold and his irises were pure black. Asher was growing angrier every day he spent there, watching as the people who ran the inn worked Jainic to exhaustion. The woman with Jainic when Asher first met him, presumably Jainic's mother, he learned died a few days after he had destroyed the city. Jainic was left alone and he had to work here so that he had a scrap to eat and a corner to sleep in. All this Asher learned because the innkeepers never failed to remind Jainic of this every time he made a tiny mistake or every time that he grew tired.

The boys and girls his age called him names and had fun at his expense. Jainic seemed to tolerate it all rather well, just ignoring them and going about his chores. Once, when the other children threw something at Jainic, Asher picked up a large water bucket and dumped it over their heads, then let the bucket fall on them. The children were frightened, looking around to see who did it but they could not find anyone. Asher was grinning, unseen alongside them the whole time. When he looked at Jainic's face as the children ran away he saw that Jainic had a small spark in his eyes and a smile that was entirely too reminiscent of Asher's.

Though one boy befriended Jainic. He was around fourteen years old and the bartender's son. He and Jainic talked from time to time, though Jainic tried to stay away from the boy because the boy was being ridiculed for talking to Jainic. But the boy was incredibly persistent and gained Jainic and Asher's respect. The two never really had time to do much because Jainic was constantly being overworked, but the time they had together they spent talking. The people who saw them were struck by the serious expressions the two boys always wore. They never laughed, never played and never dreamed; they just talked or stayed silent.

Through the conversations, Asher found out that Jainic loved to read and draw pictures, so he took to leaving sheets of paper and small lead pieces for Jainic to draw with. The delight that he saw Jainic in was worth his trouble, and he would sit beside Jainic for hours just watching him draw and looking at him. After a while, Asher found books for Jainic to read. He took them from the library when no one was looking and made sure to return them before they were missed and Jainic was blamed.

For a few weeks, Asher was content with the different way of life, watching over and learning more about Jainic. He was also the only one that was around when Jainic smiled one of his rare smiles; Asher loved seeing Jainic's smiles. But the contentment was not there to last.

Asher was just coming back from his trip to the small town's library when he heard the raised voices of the innkeeper and Jainic. When he neared the scene he first saw the innkeeper, a tall and incredibly skinny man wearing a dress shirt and brown trousers. He was yelling at the top of his voice and he was turning red in the face. Jainic stood opposite of him, his gold pupils burning with anger and yelling at him with equal fervour. Never had Asher heard Jainic speak louder than a whisper, the boy was always so well composed. Intrigued and somewhat amused, Asher watched the argument escalate. He felt no compulsion to interfere until the innkeeper brought his hand up and knocked back Jainic's head so hard that he fell to the ground with a stinging red cheek.

Asher's eyes took on the same burning rage that Jainic had in his, but much, much worse. He walked over to the man and punched him in the stomach then rounded out a kick to his head, hearing the crunch of breaking bone that sounded the man's death. The crowd that had been attracted by the fight between the innkeeper and Jainic were now staring at his body with shock. They looked around but could see nothing to explain the sudden death of the innkeeper. He stood there smiling maliciously at the innkeeper's pale, wide-eyed face.

He watched as Jainic stood up and started to walk away, not caring about the man that dropped dead. The crowd stepped out of his way with a variety of emotions splayed across their faces - some were still shocked, others afraid, while still others were curious. Asher stepped up beside Jainic and grinned at the crowd even though they couldn't see him, then he followed Jainic to the inn.

Asher ran up the road, following the loud sounds of the people and the light burning from their torches. The trail led him to the town tavern where he saw that everyone was drinking beer and celebrating something. He looked around the room for Jainic but he couldn't see him so he decided to go even further in. As soon as he arrived at the counter, he knew that something was wrong.

"Weeelll, weee goot reed of heem for suure!!"

"I'm sure he'll fit in with all those psychos!" There was loud guffawing laughter following these statements and Asher started to piece together information from other conversations that he heard from around him.

"Best gold piece we've ever earned, that's for sure!"

"He shouldn't even have been worth that much! But we got rid o' him! Did you see the look on his face when he was sold for so low?"

"I hope that he gets treated 'orribly! How long d'ya think he'd last?"

"I give him five days!" Some other drunkard yelled from the other side of the room, "Nah! That brat would only last three! Then he'll croak and we'll be all the best!"

There was only one thought racing through Asher's head: Jainic! He ran out the door and to the inn where everything would be fine, he would see Jainic and everything would be fine. But it was not. The inn was boarded up and deserted, windows smashed and the smell of rotten food and sewer rats hung in the air. Asher had only been gone three months and this had happened, three months only because he hurried to get back to Jainic. It was the first time that he ever hurried anywhere because he usually took his time destroying places.

The people in the bar didn't even notice him when he walked in the doors in visible form. They were too caught up in their revelry and he hated them for it. He grabbed the table nearest to him and toppled it to the floor, spilling the beer, cards, and money. A half-drunk bulky man stood up and made his way to Asher.

"You. Wrecked. Our. Game." The man was taking one huge step after every word and he was getting angrier by the second. However, Asher wasn't even fazed. When the man took a wild swinging punch at him, he stepped aside and tripped the man to the floor, then lifted him up by his shirt.

"What did you do to Jainic?" Asher's voice was low and very deep, with a dangerous edge to his words. His eyes were green-gold razors, causing everyone to stop their advances.

"Why do you care about him, stranger?"

"He was a bother to this town, a curse, with those unnatural eyes and hair, he was the devil incarnate!" The speaker let out a string of curses as Asher lifted him up a foot off the ground.

"Eyes like these?" Asher looked the man straight in the eyes and grinned suddenly, scaring the man even more than he already was.

"H-he's a-at th-the p-p-p-palace!" The man gasped out and Asher dropped him to the ground in a quivering heap. There were two palaces that stood out in mind, but he knew that Jainic was not at the palace of the Maginla people because the Paruparu people were not talking to them. That left The Palace.

Asher turned abruptly and walked out the door, hearing the sigh of relief from the people around him. Once he was outside, he faced the bar and started to glow a dark, stormy violet. The wind whipped around him, increasing the unnaturally high whistle as it raced faster and faster.

Then the screams started from inside the tavern. The windows shattered from the high frequency of the sound and all the glasses in the bar followed suit. People's faces and bodies became punctured with glass chips travelling at incredible speeds and they screamed, an endless long wail heard by the people from the neighbouring towns.

Asher then glowed black as the wind died down and the high whistle stopped. He set off invisible to all to the Palace where he knew Jainic would be.

The screaming inside the tavern stopped soon after the wind and whistling died down. The people crawled on their hands and knees, some crying because of their injuries. Then cautiously, they rose up and started talking to themselves about their injuries, their concerns, and about the strange man with the same pupils as Jainic. The people made the sign of the cross whenever their conversation strayed to Asher.

They were so caught up in their talking that they didn't notice the glass on the floor had started to glow a strange, black colour. They only noticed when the glass started growing into sharp spikes from everywhere around them. The doorways and windows were blocked with all the glass structures and the roof started producing them too.

The people started screaming again: for someone to help them, for the glass to stop growing, for someone to save them, but their prayers and shouts were left unanswered. The glass pierced through their bodies and there was one last scream of anguish before they were forever silenced.

When the people from the next village came at dawn, many threw up from the sight and smell, while others fainted. The sun's rays washed upon the scene and provided an unforgettably gruesome and evil image. The walls were painted red from blood and the people's faces were twisted into grotesque expressions as the glass pieces in their bodies protruded from all angles. Many of their mouths were still open, screaming while they died.

And the most memorable sight was the body of a boy, around fourteen years old, pinned against the wall with his arms outstretched as if he was crucified. His eyes already blind before he died, from the glass that sprayed with the wind, but dried tear tracks were still visible through the blood covering his face. The people would never know that the boy had been crying well before his eyes were blinded, nor would they ever know that he was crying because he never got to tell Jainic that he loved him.

Asher was on the hill leading to the town's boundaries when he heard the final echoing scream of the people below. He looked up and saw the butterflies fly from the bush, painting the sky with a rainbow of colours as they flew towards the rising sun. He then continued on his path, never looking back again.

He continued on for days, requiring neither food nor sleep. At last, he stood on a hill overlooking a forest where there was a palace in the centre of it. He continued through the forest and came to a river, which he followed until he came to a waterfall. Right beside the waterfall were the doors that granted entry to the palace. He passed through them easily and made his way to the first room he saw.

The room turned out to be an office of some sort. There were windows that showed the forest surrounding the whole palace, and the light from outside illuminated the room. A huge desk was in the corner, piled with mountains of paperwork arranged in tidy stacks. The whole room reminded him of the rooms he saw in the houses of the rich people in the trading cities. The walls were made of paper, thick enough that they seemed like walls. Wooden frames that ran to the floor and were made of the same material as the floor supported them. In fact, Asher hadn't seen the type of wood - black mahogany - since the trading era. It was a rare type of wood that was grown specially and cost a lot of money. It was one of the secrets that he buried along with the cities, how to make the wood.

If there was one thing he appreciated about the trading cities was that their rich inhabitants had style and class. Asher decided to take some time to inspect the rest of the room. The wood grains were all facing the same way, the seams between the separate planks were barely noticeable and would have remained unnoticed if Asher did not have extensive knowledge of the manufacturing of the wood due to having watched the process in secret so many times. The desk itself was another work of art. The desk came from Fiar Thyrnem, which was thriving during the fourth era and was providing the Kings' palaces with their furniture. It was crafted by hand; as were all their other creations, and it probably took a rough estimate of at least four days. There were no bolts holding the desk together, only precisely measured pieces cut to interlock perfectly. Dovetail carpentry required patience, a good hand, and skill. It was another regret to see the city destroyed, but it had to be done. Some of the pieces from the earlier palaces were already sold off, while the upper class men bought the furniture to show off to their associates and passed them down to future generations.

Looking up, Asher noticed the lamps hanging from the ceiling. They were etched pieces of coloured glass that would bathe the room in rainbow-tinted light when turned on. The three lamps nearest the door were red hued, while the ones farthest were purple tinted. Upon closer inspection, Asher's suspicions were confirmed. In the third era, there had been a famous maker of chandeliers whose works graced many palace ballrooms. He made other things with glass carefully blown and sculpted, but he suddenly disappeared one day, never to be heard of again. These lamps were all his works and would be worth thousands of gold pieces each. If sold as a set, their value would increase exponentially. Whoever owned this office or decorated it had good taste and a fine eye for art. Not to mention rooms full of money at the least.

He finished his inspection of the room and headed to the desk. After moving some of the papers, he came upon a marble prism that had the name 'Tenchi' etched on it. Asher concluded that whoever this Tenchi was, was probably the inhabitant of this office. He searched the various drawers and in the bottom right one, there was a whole stack of papers and the page on top simply said, 'Palace Records of Transactions'. He removed the front page and started to look through the papers, seeing as the most recent ones were at the top. He finally came to a date six days back that had the following information:

Transaction #98328392
File #29873
Section R

Surname: Unknown
Given Name(s): Jainic
Parent's Names: Unknown
Age: 10
Birth date: Unknown
Sex: Male
Siblings: None
Living Relatives: Unknown

Birthplace: West Region of Wiaru Irtyre, Tayre Wyvinn, Fiar Riwes
People: Paruparu

Cost: 1 gold piece
Situated in: Floor: Guerre; Hall: H; Room: #245

Asher's eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked at the cost. So this was what those drunken idiots were talking about. He had to admit, the Palace was thorough; this was practically all the information that could be known about Jainic's past. He took note of the information on where Jainic was being kept and carefully placed everything back where he got them and shut the drawers.

Now, the real question was: Which floor was Guerre? He located the staircase after wandering around the floor and proceeded to go up a flight. He looked around for signs or plaques, or anything that could tell him which floor he was on but didn't find anything. Asher decided that he should just go around and look for room #245. After all, all he had to do was follow the consequential numbers.

Floor Guerre, Hall H, Room #245; Jainic's Point of View

I never thought that they would be so cruel as to deprive me of the place where I grew up. To sell me like a slave, a low-life that they were glad to get rid of. One gold piece! That was all that I was worth. They will see, one day I will make them pay.

I never asked for my hair or eyes. I never asked to be an orphan at such a young age. And I definitely never asked for the odd happenings that seemed to take place around me. The happenings that had me branded as a black magician and cast from society. They were all afraid of me and stayed away from me as if they would contract some horrible illness by simply standing close to me.

The one person who made it bearable was Kaibi. He always saw me as a person from the moment that we met. He never pretended things, but just talked straight. He said things like they were and I liked him for that. He never treated me as a child either, even though I was still classified as one by my age. I could never be a child; I grew up too fast and too cruelly. I was treated harshly with barely enough food to grow up on. And what I hated the most was the fact that at first, I thought it was all my fault.

//He sat huddled up in a corner. He was four at the time and had just been beaten. He rocked back and forth as tears racked his body and the cold air bit at his open wounds.

"Why are you crying? Stop that at once!" When he only proceeded to cry even more, he was kicked in the ribs brutally. "Now stop that racket! You deserved every bit of that punishment! If it weren't for you, your mother wouldn't have died. If it wasn't for you..."

He stopped crying and that was the last time he ever cried. He was strong; he would never cry and let them see him so weak. He stood up, wobbling slightly from the pain of the recent beating.

"I understand."//

Then after that, resentment began to build inside me. I asked myself, 'Why should strangers continue to dictate my life?' The second thing that I hated was how powerless I was. I couldn't do anything to stop their treatment of me, I just had to sit back and watch them degrade me even further and push me even lower into the ground. I swore to myself that I would get out as soon as the first opportunity presented itself, but now I'm even more powerless. I can't do anything confined like a wild animal in a cage.

I think that I'll just lie down. It won't do me any good to scream or yell or cry, no matter how much I want to.

Hours after Asher first started his search....

That's it! Someone must be laughing in his expense. Upon first starting off, Asher discovered that each floor had multitudes of hallways and each hallway started with a room numbered one. That meant that in the first floor alone there were twenty rooms that bore the number 245 and the hallways took ages to explore. Actually, the hallways seemed to be twisting corridors that led him from one end of the palace to the other. Since then, he had gone up to the third floor and was starting to feel a bit of tiredness seeping into him.

He rested against the wall for a brief moment, wondering how many floors one place could actually have. From the outside the place looked nowhere near as big as it was inside. Granted that he had only seen the massive door since the forest hid the palace so well. He decided that the palace must have some sort of magical shielding or some sort of magic involved because even the forest hadn't been that wide or that tall. Though such powerful magic was hard to come by, it wasn't entirely unheard of. After all, it was a fact that Asher existed.

So far, he had seen some maids and a few other people, who he guessed to be prospective masters, walking about the hallways. The maids just went door to door and cleaned the rooms. From the few times that he went into the rooms, (which was every room #245) he could see that they were not merely rooms, but whole suites. They consisted of several rooms and most had certain themes of decorations. So far he hadn't seen two decorations that were alike. The rooms usually contained large beds and a big cabinet or table that had wide assortments of 'toys' that the masters could use. Sometimes, Asher had even seen their uses firsthand when he walked in on particularly violent Masters trying to force submission of their Keys.

He stood up again and followed the hallway to the end where he discovered to his chagrin that there was an elevator. He stepped inside a bit put off at himself for not noticing that there was one. He looked at the buttons and discovered that there were rooms underground, and one of the buttons was named Guerre. Well, today was full of surprises for him, and he didn't like them one bit.

When the elevator door opened he saw a floor almost exactly alike to the ones over the ground, but for the lack of light due to the underground location. The walls were made of cold stone that had the unusual colours of red and black. Upon closer inspection, he deemed them the natural colours, which did nothing to ease his imagination about the things that could be happening to Jainic.

Aware that he was acting like a worried lover or even worse, a mother hen, he composed himself and proceeded down the hall. Upon coming to the room #245, he just walked right through the door. What he saw was one of the major differences between the floors above and this floor below. There was no suite of rooms. Instead, this looked more like a prison. There was a small cot to the side and a tiny plate on the bottom. The only things missing were the customary shackles or bars.

Seeing that Jainic wasn't there, Asher walked through the back wall and came face to face with another room #245. Well, this was remarkably easier than the twisting corridors of the previous floors. He went through five more rooms numbered 245 and went into the sixth one not really expecting a difference. Again, he came upon a surprise.

There lay Jainic, curled up and sleeping. Asher breathed an inaudible sigh of relief and managed to release some of the tension in his body that he hadn't known was there. Why did one child affect him so much? He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached up as if to caress Jainic's cheek.

"How do you do it?" He asked the sleeping child. "How do you make me feel so different around you? How is it that I've grown to care for you?"

There was no answer except that Jainic shifted a bit. Asher sighed once more and, still invisible, lay down next to Jainic and went to sleep.