- Ashford, Luminia, 10 years ago -
Dust swirled around Angelo's feet as he walked through the ruined lab. The building had been empty for seven years, any piece of equipment strangely absent. The afternoon sun peeked through the holes in the walls, creating patches of light in the darkness.
Angelo ran his small hand along the crumbling wall as he walked, leaving finger trails in the dust. His eyes were red from crying as he looked in every corner and shadow, like he was searching for something important. Old papers crunched under his shoes.
He kicked at a piece of broken glass, sending it skittering across the floor. The sound echoed through the empty hallways, making the place feel even lonelier.
"This place is depressing!" a voice suddenly spoke in his mind, full of wild energy. "Come on, let's do something fun instead! I know exactly how to get back at those jerks from recess."
Angelo stopped walking and pressed his hands against his ears, squeezing his eyes shut like he was trying to block out the voice. Fresh tears started rolling down his cheeks, leaving clean streaks in the dust on his face.
"Don't listen to him," another gentler voice chimed in, trying to sound grown-up. "The other kids are only mean because you keep doing what he says. Just ignore them and—"
"Don't be a chicken!" the wild voice shot back. "They pushed us down and laughed! We can't just let them get away with it!"
As the voices argued in his head, he stumbled to the nearest wall and leaned his forehead against it. The wall felt cool and damp against his skin as his shoulders shook with quiet sobs.
Behind him, a door creaked open.
"There you are, Angelo," a gentle voice called out, making the arguing voices go quiet. "I had a feeling I'd find you here."
Angelo quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve and turned around. Sleeser was standing in the doorway, his spiky hair glowing orange in the sunset light.
"Come on," he said, his voice kind but firm. "You've got more Auron training to do. Can't get stronger hiding in old ruins, now can you?"
Minutes later Angelo found himself sat cross-legged in the grass behind the old lab, trying to meditate. After twenty minutes of sitting still, he couldn't keep going. His eyes flew open and he scratched his head frantically, his legs bouncing against the ground like he was sitting on springs.
"I can't take this anymore!" He jumped up and down without even getting up, like a kid waiting in line for the bathroom. "I think I'm starting to prefer the pushups and sit-ups!"
Sleeser leaned against a nearby tree, watching with a smile. "Now, now. The mental training is just as important as the physical training."
"I hate this stupid training!" Angelo leaped to his feet and kicked a rock as hard as he could. It bounced across the clearing like a skipping stone. His face scrunched up like he'd tasted something sour. In his head, one voice egged him on to kick more rocks while the other tried to calm him down.
Sleeser didn't move from his tree, just watched calmly as Angelo stomped around. "I thought you wanted to be an Auron like me?"
"I doooooo," Angelo dragged the word out, letting his whole body droop forward dramatically. "But this is so boring! Why do I even have to do this?"
Sleeser pushed off from the tree, his face getting serious. "Do you know what makes someone an Auron, Angelo?"
Angelo stopped mid-stomp and shook his head, suddenly interested.
Sleeser walked over and crouched down next to him. "All around us, there are invisible channels where energy flows, like rivers that we can't see."
He held out his hand, and orange light flickered around it like a gentle flame. "We call these 'energy connections.' What makes Aurons special is that we can sense these channels and learn to draw energy from them."
"Really?" Angelo's eyes got huge. Even the arguing voices in his head went quiet to listen.
Sleeser picked up a stick and drew lines in the dirt as he explained.
"Yes, but it's not easy. That's why we need to train. Physical training builds stamina that fuels the connection, and mental training to feel and control our own internal energy flow to create it." Angelo nodded as he was listening. "Only then can we use this unlimited energy of the universe."
Angelo kicked at the lines in the dirt, frowning. "I've seen you in action, Sleeser. I really don't think its as unlimited as you say."
"Ah, good observation, kiddo." Sleeser smiled and sat down properly. "Let me explain it this way. Have you ever seen the ocean?"
Angelo shook his head, plopping down in the grass across from his teacher.
"Well, imagine the biggest pool of water you can think of – so big it goes on forever. That's like the universe's energy – endless, infinite." Sleeser drew a big circle in the dirt. "Now, imagine you have a small swimming pool on a piece of land near the ocean, and you want to fill it with ocean water through a pipe."
"Okay..." Angelo nodded slowly, drawing his own little pool in the dirt.
"The ocean never runs out of water, right? But your pool can only hold so much. And the pipe can only move water so fast." He connected the bigger pool with Angelo's smaller one with a line. "That's exactly how it works for Aurons. We have access to unlimited energy, but we can only control as much as our 'pool' can hold, and we can only draw it as fast as our 'pipe' allows."
Sleeser created a ball of orange energy between his hands, about the size of a basketball. "This isn't even a fraction of the energy that's out there. But it's what I can safely control right now. That's why we train – to make our 'pool' bigger and our 'pipe' wider." He closed his hands and the light winked out.
Angelo's whole face lit up as it clicked. The voices in his head went completely quiet, like students absorbing a fascinating lesson. Then suddenly, he couldn't contain his excitement. "When I finally become an Auron, I hope my aura's silver!" He bounced up and down where he sat, making the grass flatten beneath him. "That would look so cool! Like a superhero!"
"Anything but orange," the wild voice groaned in his head. "Look at Sleeser, he's so boring! All proper and stuff. If we get orange, we might end up like that!"
"I don't think that's how it works," the other voice chimed in. "Though silver would be nice..."
Sleeser chuckled and ruffled Angelo's hair. "The color isn't something you can choose, you know. It's pretty random. I saw a blue fire Auron, pink lightning Auron, you name it."
"Aww," Angelo's whole body slumped for a second before he perked right back up. "Well, whatever color it is, I bet it'll be awesome! Way cooler than orange!"
"Hey!" Sleeser raised an eyebrow, trying to look stern but his mouth kept twitching into a smile. "What's wrong with orange?"
"Nothing!" Angelo said quickly, then he lowered his voice, "But silver would still be cooler."
"Alright, alright," Sleeser laughed, standing up and brushing grass from his pants. "Less dreaming about colors, more meditation. You won't become an Auron at all if you don't focus."
This time when Angelo closed his eyes, he couldn't help grinning as he imagined silver light sparkling all around him.
The sun was getting low now, making the shadows of the trees stretch across their little clearing. Master and student sat quietly together, while behind them, the old lab loomed like a watchful guardian.
Four years of training would follow – hundreds of afternoons like this one, filled with meditation, practice and growth. But no amount of preparation, no countless hours of training, could have readied them for what was coming.
- 4 Years later -
"No, please!" The woman's voice cracked as she stumbled backward, pulling her daughter close against the alley wall. The little girl buried her face in her mother's dress, small hands clutching the fabric. "We haven't done anything wrong! Please!"
The man kept walking toward them, violet light pulsing around his body like a heartbeat. His face showed nothing – no anger, no hesitation, just empty purpose. "No mercy for you, Luminian bitch."
"PLEASE! N—" Her scream cut off as metal blades formed in his hands, moving faster than thought. Mother and daughter fell together, their blood painting the cobblestones dark.
The man turned away without a backward glance, his violet glow fading as he melted back into the chaos.
The setting sun painted the sky crimson, matching the blood in the streets below. Smoke rose from burning homes, turning the air thick and bitter. Bodies lay scattered everywhere – some still, others twitching.
Up above, people wrapped in colored light fought like angry gods. Each hit sent shock waves through the air that rattled windows and made the ground shake. The invaders poured through the town, their chant echoing off burning buildings: "INFERNIA WILL RECLAIM WHAT IT'S LOST!"
In the town square, orange light flared as a fighter's fist connected with his opponent's jaw. The enemy Auron stumbled back, spitting blood. Before he could recover, the orange warrior gathered his power into a tight beam that struck him square in the chest, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying. He crashed through a burning house with a sound like thunder, adding more splinters to the smoke-filled air.
"Sleeser!" The desperate cry cut through the chaos. Sleeser spun to find Thomas, one of the town's elders, his face streaked with ash and terror. "Angelo – he's escaped the shelter! The boy thinks he can help!"
The words hit Sleeser like physical blows. His mind filled with images of his young student, barely twelve, trying to face these killers.
"WHERE?" The question erupted from him with such force that his orange aura flared violently.
Thomas' trembling hand pointed toward the forest edge. "The outskirts – he ran that way!"
Sleeser bolted without another word, his feet barely touching the ground as his aura propelled him forward toward the darkness gathering at the town's edge.
At that same moment, Angelo emerged from the treeline into hell itself. The scene that greeted him stopped him cold. Bodies lay scattered across streets he'd walked every day of his life. The air reeked of blood and smoke. Aurons clashed with deadly force, their powers lighting up the growing darkness.
"Don't freeze up!" the wild voice commanded. "People need saving! Sleeser might be in trouble!"
"This was a terrible mistake," the gentle voice whispered, subdued by the horror around them.
Movement caught Angelo's eye – a woman bolting from her hiding place, running blind with terror. But she wasn't alone. Another figure leapt after her, power crackling around them.
"They're going to kill her! MOVE!" the fierce voice screamed inside Angelo's head.
The woman stumbled and fell. Her attacker approached slowly, savoring her fear. Angelo stood frozen, his young mind unable to process the scene before him.
"DO SOMETHING!" the voice raged.
"I... I can't..." Angelo's whole body trembled.
"Look left – there's an axe! It's our only chance!"
Angelo's eyes found the weapon, lodged in a fallen log. His hand shook as he wrapped fingers around the handle, pulling it free.
The sounds of battle grew distant for Sleeser, replaced by something that made his blood run colder – a woman's terrified scream, piercing and desperate. Then came a child's voice, high and frightened, followed by the guttural roar of a man in pain.
He pushed himself faster, cold sweat running against his skin. The trees loomed ahead, their shadows stretching like sharp fingers across blood-stained grass.
Three figures came into view – one lying motionless on the ground.
The scene that greeted him carved itself into his memory with brutal clarity. Angelo knelt in the dirt, his small frame trembling like a leaf in a storm.
At his feet lay a man, face-down, with an axe buried deep between his shoulder blades. The wooden handle jutted from his back like a grim marker, blood pooling dark and thick around the wound.
Sleeser stumbled forward, bile rising in his throat as the details sharpened – Angelo's hands and face were painted crimson, fresh blood stark against his pale skin.
Angelo's head snapped up at Sleeser's approach, and the look in those eyes stopped him cold.
Gone was the quiet, determined child who'd trained with him all these years. In his place knelt something else – something broken and raw, forged in the crucible of necessity and violence.
"I had to," Angelo whispered, his voice cracking. "He was going to..." He swallowed, "One of the voices told me..."