What would it be like to see the sun, to feel the grass beneath your feet? To see someone smile? These questions, and several others like them, swirled through Freed Justine's mind as he sat on a stone windowsill, gazing upon a waning moon. The dim light offered by Earthland's only satellite illuminated the grounds of a sturdy manor, one more suited to being a stronghold than an actual home. For all his fourteen years, the green-haired boy on his balcony had not once set foot outside this home; for him, it was more akin to a prison.
Yamuna Manor was the dwelling of the notorious dark guild Yami Yama, known also as the Lords of the Underworld, a title befitting the man who called himself Master. Terrel Justine was the third in the Justine line to inherit this guild and the magic that came with it. A ruthless man, Terrel kept a tight stranglehold on his family, guild, and the activities of those guilds affiliated with his. Under Justine's rule, Yami Yama had everything; power, wealth, infamy, the fear and loyalty of the underworld, everything that a dark mage could want. At this point in his life, Terrel's only goal was to ensure a stable future for his guild. This he sought to accomplish by training his only son in the dark script magic that ran in his family. If he could only raise Freed to be as strong and ruthless as he, then Yami Yama's future would be left in good hands. Unfortunately, there was but one problem.
Freed had yet to attain his demon form.
The young mage-in-training, huddled against the cold of the night, refused to cooperate during his lessons. It's too difficult, he would say; too cruel, too frightening. Yami no Ecriture: Fear, Pain, Suffering, even Death… What person in their right mind would ever use such magic? At least, his mother taught him it was wrong to hurt people. It was this hesitation that always landed Freed in trouble. Today would be no exception. The slight pinkening of the sky and the distant sound of footsteps on stone alerted Freed to the day that was about to begin anew.
The boy jumped off the windowsill and with practiced silence made his way back to his quarters, a cramped room with bare walls and only that furniture which was deemed essential; a small basin for bathing, a plain chest for storing clothes, and a thin cot to sleep in. No sooner than he had jumped in his cot and stilled its swinging did a knock come at his door.
"Hey, boy, wake up and get dressed!" came a gruff voice after the knocking stopped. "Your training starts in an hour!" The messenger stayed no longer, and Freed waited until the reatreating footsteps died down before rising.
Another day of training and punishment, another step on the path of dark wizardy, marching inexorably toward a fate he didn't want. But to dawdle would lead to an even worse punishment, so Freed steeled himself for the trials ahead and followed after the messenger. Might as well get it over with quickly and hope for the best.
