They are the children who never grew up.
Not because they'd been whisked off by a young boy to a land of pirates and fairy dust, but because their childhood was stolen from them, ripped like their shadows from their bodies. Children who saw things they shouldn't, who could not face the moon, who were living through a war they could not understand.
They still had magic in their lives. Glorious, beautiful magic which made their eyes go wide with excitement and wonder. Magic surged through the ceilings and walls of the castle which they called home, pounded through their very veins and flew out of their mouths with every breath, welled in the tips of their fingers, aching for the chance to be used. But as magic was beauty, it was also corruption. It wrought power when exerted on those who did not have it, and the lust for dominance caused a seemingly never-ending battle outside the magical walls of their warm and safe castle.
They are the children who never grew up.
A boy whose father made an enemy of a terrible man. A child, all but four, who did nothing but play outside one evening after dark, but whose innocence was taken from him as he bore a curse too big for his small frame. A monster or a myth, either way, he was nothing to be loved by anyone. Even his parents could not contain their fear. He may have been a boy, but he was also a beast, and a danger to anyone for whom he cared.
He made three kind, understanding friends. Friends who risked their lives to make him happier. Boys who did not fear the monster within him, and instead wished to find its playful side, protecting him from harming himself. Boys who worked for years, day after day, spell after spell, just for him. They were his brothers, and they made him feel a little less lonely.
But these friends were stolen from him, by the betrayal of the third. The war that had plagued them was over, but the war within him once again began. With no friends to tame the beast, he was alone in the world. Too much a monster to care for the child his friend had left behind. He was a boy who had lost all he loved, and thought he might never love again.
For a wonderful time, he was granted a chance for one of his friends to return to him. But this boy was hardened by the hell he'd lived, by the friend they'd lost, and could not be the same care-free mischief maker he'd once been. And soon enough, he too was lost, in permanence. From this, the monster-boy could not recover, and even when love made itself present in his life, his heart was scarred and his soul fearful. He faded, as dreams do, on a dark and painful night.
They are the children who never grew up.
A boy who grew up in darkness he did not comprehend. A child whose parents admired the horrors produced by the men and women seeking war. They told him that others were lesser, that he would one day grow up to join the honourable cause of eradicating them. A boy whose parents wanted a monster of a very different kind for a son.
He discovered he was unlike his parents as day was night. He found acceptance and openness and light among his new place in the world, his glorious castle hideaway. He found a boy who was like his other half, who knew his thoughts and cared for him anyway. A friend who had the sense of right and wrong he so desperately needed at home. He, along with the boy's other friends, were a constant reminder of the goodness in the world.
But the boy was arrogant. Oh, so foolish and arrogant. He had always been able to escape the consequences, whether by his own charm or by the rescue of his friends. Yet, in admiring his own cleverness for a plan to protect his friends, he never once stopped to think that he might have chosen the wrong boy. It was a mistake that he would spend twelve years paying for, but in truth, he paid for it the rest of his life. Every day he did not have his brother-friend beside him was a painful knock on the door that telling him the boy had died as a consequence of his choice. Inadvertently, he had become the monster he so feared, someone who destroyed the things he loved.
He tried so very hard to atone for his actions. He strove to be the parent that his friend's son needed, but he was still just a boy himself, stuck in limbo, never having had a life outside hiding and war. He lost himself in trying to protect that boy, to save the last remaining link to his friend. He floated away, like a browning leaf on the night's air, his life's autumn bleeding to a harsh winter.
They are the children who never grew up.
A boy, bumbling and afraid of a world too big for him. He was sure that he would fade in the minds of those around him, unremarkable and unloved by anyone but his doting mother. His blue eyes were always ready to be shut, because he was certain to be eaten away by the war that preyed on the weakest first. But he had a wonder of exploration within him, and talents that could be nurtured, if anyone would give him half a chance.
And a chance he was given, at that beautiful and grand castle, by those remarkable and friendly boys. They found a place for him, protected him and called him brother. He was considered remarkable too, by their influence. They accomplished amazing things together, both for the world to see and secrets that only the four boys knew about. The boy's talents flourished and he finally felt that he belonged.
Yet those friends could only help him for so long. For the fear and hatred perpetrating the world began to cool his soul. What good was it to have friends, if he could not keep himself alive? What benefit was it to him to fight in a war to which he would not see the end? And so, though he hated himself for it, for giving in and giving up one of the boys who had helped him overcome so much, he let the darkness take him. The boy became a shell of fear, because it was all he had left of himself. Each word he passed on to the leader of the war mongers tore apart at the goodness he had built up.
In the end, he could do nothing more than allow himself to stop. He had lived so long for only his life, doing bidding with a hand that was never truly his. He could no longer be that boy, who had turned against his friends. But his once-friend's son could not stop the hand that was not his from clasping around his throat. He fell by the same darkness in which he'd sought refuge, suffocating in its grasp, no more a man than he'd ever been.
They are the children who never grew up.
A boy who grew up as the saving grace of elderly parents. A child who felt the touch of love and kindness from the moment of his birth, but whose aging family could not keep up with his booming heart for adventure. A boy who was lonely and longed for a companion to match the speed of his mind and motion. A boy with good intentions, who did not know how to act on them, and instead used his talent to show off.
But that castle, that shining castle, brought him the same hope as the boys. He found friends to make magic with, he found a place to release his energy and a world that shaped him into someone with a strong sense of what was good and just. He struggled to look for the grey in a world that seemed so very black and white at times, but those friends helped him find it. His cockiness slowly faded as the world around him grew more heavy with the weight of the war. His kindness and need to help others was only enhanced by feeling the suffering creep in on them. He found a girl who lifted his spirits, who filled parts of him he did not know were missing.
As most things do not last, so was the boy's bubble of a life broken. The walls around him crumbled to reveal pain and evil as he'd never known. He clung to the girl, to his friends, to his beliefs, but nothing would anchor them as they fell. He was forced to hide in a place too small to hold his large heart. He had his own boy, though he was still one himself. He put too much faith in his friends, like he'd always done, and because of it, he and the girl were sliced apart by the cold steel of an enemy they'd tried so hard to defeat. The children left a child, who lived a life they were never destined to take part in.
They are the children who never grew up. Lost boys, fading, falling and floating away in a world that could not save them from themselves.