Author's Note: OK, So, I said in my other fanfiction that I was going to do a little side project. Well here it is. I know I haven't finished The Stand of Eight yet, that is ON HOLD for now, I feel like I'm a bit too busy to be writing chapters for that fanfiction because it requires longer chapters. ANYWAY,
This is a reboot of the series BUT, same characters/Legacies/personalities/people/weapons/etc. but from the POV of Five (boy) and a few others…
So enjoy, review, and be awesome!
Third POV
The night.
It's fierce, howling breeze softens the moonlight shining on the trees ahead. The stars burn brightly, a dull one slightly pulsing, almost as if it were trying to say something. The leaves rustle through the midnight, stirring birds take flight and soar in the free sky, ruling over the night skies. Not another noise is made, it's peace, or so we thought. There in the midst of the trees, far beyond any camp or village nearby, lies a small cabin. The flimsy wood held together by pieces of string and vine, but reinforced with a backing of timber, overall seeming strong and protective from the wind, weather and elements outside. But what it contains is more than special. The small torches hang either side of the front door, flickering in the sudden chillier breeze, the trees and leaves rustle violently back in response.
Inside, a boy lays.
Surrounded by a thin mosquito net, providing a relaxing rest, the small hammock he lies in is suspended ever so slightly off the ground, his breathing is slow and calm. He has dark skin and his hair is cut close to his head; his strong athletic build is relaxed, only years of training and exercise would've gotten his agile body to the strength that it is now. Next to him another figure, a man. Some would say his father, but no one really knows who he is besides them. He lies similar to the boy, resting peacefully and looking as though he is normal. A sudden, soft shake interrupts the calm atmosphere. The older man's eyes snap open, almost as if he wasn't resting, just closing his eyes and waiting. He swiftly yet quietly gets up, trying not to wake the boy; regardless the boy wakes up, his dark brown eyes sweeping across the floor and to the man standing. He attempts to get up, but the man ushers him down, he obeys, but cautiously looks to the door. The man grabs a knife lying on the side desk, it glows a bluish hue at his touch, obviously a metal not from Earth. It's two bladed ends point opposing ways, both glinting with a silver shine and both sides looking deadly.
A very distant crash is heard, the boy gets up, crouching by his bed, but looking strong. The man ushers him back to bed again, but ignores the fact that the boy doesn't listen. The man's hand reaches for the door knob – the once peaceful atmosphere is now filled with tension and dread for what's about to come. He turns the knob, a small yet silent creak follows as the door slowly arcs outwards onto the small veranda and swings harmlessly as the man let's go; all the sound that is made after is the rapid heartbeat of the man. He looks out…
Nothing. Just a barren forest, without the slightest movement. He breathes a sigh of relief and smiles faintly to the boy. Just as the boy smiles back, the unthinkable happens.
A blonde haired boy sits on the edge of a yacht. His friends around him smiling and laughing. A party. A girl next to him blushes, her brown hair falls around her face as the increasing wind blows, the yacht comes to a halt, and everyone files off to the beach. Laughter and talk fills the air as the blonde haired boy runs through the sand to his friends, the brown haired girl running after him.
The boy smiles as she walks over. But he knows it won't last or it might not even be. His life won't let it, his kind won't let it. But he just enjoys the current moment, not worrying about what is to come.
A girl walks alone, deeply scarred as she makes her way along a deserted highway. Torn and dirt covered clothes weakly drape over her; she's weak and half-dead. Her raven hair blows back against the opposing wind, as she struggles to put one foot in front of the other, her movements become slower until she finally collapses in exhaustion, breathing heavily. Her physical form flickering in and out of a transparent, opaque colour. Her fists clench up, her knuckles turning white from the lack of blood, she's angry. But desperate. Her slow breathing afterwards calms her anger, her physical form now remains whole, a second later a tear drop falls.
Soon tears are plummeting one after the other, the girl tries to get up but her mourning brings her down, the pain is too much to bear. She sobs quietly to herself, not wanting the surrounding atmosphere to hear her, even though no one is around, she feels like all eyes are on her. She steadily gets up, tears still roll down her cheeks, but the emotion has been taken away and the once saddening mourning of her loved one is replaced by an anger and vengeance feeling. Her stormy grey eyes look around, she has been transformed into a warrior in a matter of seconds. Her determination shows evidently through her eyes, the fear now replaced with strength, sadness replaced with anger and the broken replaced with vengeance. She's ready.
But she is still deeply scarred.
The girl lays quietly kneeling at the side of her bed. Her eyes flickering and glance around every so often, trying to see if anyone is watching. The bed is thin, a small and weak looking frame holds up the thin mattress. The other beds in the room have others sleeping in it, their bodies rise up and down, the small and soft sound of sleeping fills the large room.
The girl rises quietly, not wanting to make a sound, tip-toeing through the ranks of beds and to the large wooden , oak door, it silently creaks as she pulls down the handle, setting her free from this prison she's been trapped in. A small smile plays on her lips as she lightly yet quietly jogs down the long cold hallway; her brown hair flows throughout her jog. Her feet echoing softly in the halls; the night skies shining through the stained windows to her left, and the quiet sound of the wind blowing against the glass.
She's free.
A cry from the wilderness rings through the forest and mountains.
A cry of fury, a cry of grief.
A figure lays in the rainy ground; soft pitter-patters of rain splash harmlessly on the boys bare back. His muscles flexed and jaw clenched. The black curly hair now drenched in rain, his body rises an falls at an increasing rate, his breathing quickens and his heart beats faster. Next to him, in the mud and rocks lies a newly buried patch of dirt. With the length of a normal man…
The boy sheds a tear, the cold breeze picking up speed and the rain becoming faster and faster. His body can take it; he's been training for years, improving his strength and his power within. But emotionally, he can't do it without him. But the boy pushes on, determination fills him, maybe not revenge, but determination for a better future and a better life. A small smile creeps onto his lips.
Memories.
All the laughter, the fun, the jokes and happiness – regardless of what situation, what was chasing them or what their lives were. They lived it to the best they could; happily and joyfully. But now… the boy can only do that by himself, but there will always be a part where that man will lie with him – his nature is to be happy, not filled with anger.
Happiness.
Thats what will get him through.
The rain beats down harder, the wind blowing faster, night is falling in the early afternoon and the animals of evening are creeping out. The boy has survived a long time, but now his journey must be continued alone.
That's his worst fear, being alone. Not the dangers of the wilderness, the animals, weather or people. No, just being alone. But the boy remains strong as he gives one last cry. As he does, his human form shifts between one of a lion, his canines growing and cry turning into a roar; it echoes throughout the rain filled evening and ends with a rising stand from the tanned boy. He stares at the grave one last time, smiling and a single tear dropping from his cheek, ultimately plummeting to it's inevitable suicidal doom. Thunder claps,
And with that he disappears in a puff of displaced air.
Just as the boy smiles the unthinkable happens…
A gleaming sword cracks the wooden door and protrudes through the man's chest, extending out to the inside of the house. The boy is in shock, he's frozen; the man tries the speak, to reach out to the boy, but nothing happens. Thunder is clapping in the skies and the rain has started to pour down on the plains of Kenya. The gleaming sword retracts back into the other side of the door and the man's last words ring out as he falls lifelessly to the floor,
"Run" the boy doesn't hesitate, he sprints out of the cabin, jumping through the opposing window and rolling on his descent as he touches the ground. The dirt and mud splashes violently as he runs. In the distance behind him a roar is heard, increasing in volume and the footsteps of a large beast echoes throughout the wilderness. The boy pushes on, running harder and faster than he has ever before, whacking and smashing through clusters of bushes and plants blocking his path, he hears his name called out; his human name. It grabs his attention but he knows he can't turn back now, he's made too much distance between him and the enemy. He grimaces at the stinging feeling in his feet. His soles have started to bleed slightly, the rocks and hard ground have made numerous cuts and bruises on his hardened feet soles.
Another roar rings out, and the snapping and crashing of trees follow. Beads of sweat have formed on his brow and his back is drenched in the uncomfortable feeling of rain and sweat from the intense running. The boys heart beats speedily, much too fast for a normal human – he's blurring through the jungle, jumping over obstacles and vegetation. More crashes and roars are heard, he's slowing down, but he's pushing harder, the beasts are coming closer, he looks ahead, his vision easily seeing far in front of him. Worry and panic rises through him; a ravine cuts off his escape into the Kenyan jungle and coast; it's a far too big jump for him – but it's he's only option. He can't possibly fight off these enemies. He runs faster, trying to gain momentum for his jump.
The stinging feeling comes back, dirt and mud have caked into his wounds on his arms and feet – the plants and vegetation whip at his hands and body from the speed he is running at, the rain beats down slightly harder, hopefully making it harder for the beasts chasing him. But they're on to his scent. The ravine nears as his legs push that extra speed, the burning sensation and tingling throughout his calves and quadriceps have maximised making the boy groan and grimace in response. He clenches his jaw and fists as he nears the ravine drop.
20 metres…
13 metres…
3 metres…
Then he jumps.
The feeling of weightlessness fills the boy. Time seems to slow down as he flies through the air, slowly descending onto the land in front of him. The wind picks up speed and laps against his worn body, the sensation of gliding through the air and relief once the roaring stops as he hits the opposing ground hard. He rolls and stumbles a bit, the burning feeling and pain from his legs has decreased with his landing and movement coming to a halt. He breathes quickly, taking in his surrounding and looking back to the ravine, he slowly picks himself up and limps towards the forest ahead of him. The rain has stopped and he sighs with relief.
A bit too soon.
A large hand wraps itself around the boy's throat, lifting him up into the air, the boy's shocked and tries to struggle against the sheer strength of the Mogadorian, but it is useless, he lost. Gasping for breath he tries to kick, this only makes the Mogadorian laugh bitterly. It's emotionless black pupils reflect his hopeless reflection, he's helpless. The atmosphere turns cold and full of dread for the poor boy, the sweat is washed away by the wind and his nerves and fear replaced by courage and defiance. With his last breath and words the boy speaks, his voice radiating no fear and signs of dread,
"The Legacies live. They will find each other, and when they do, they're going to destroy you" he gasps out, still remaining strong. The Mogadorian laughs, a mocking laugh and pulls out a gleaming silver sword, his eyes flicker greedily at this and the boy still holds his strength, being brave for what is about to come. His pendant around his neck pulses in response, spreading the last warmness onto his chest he will ever know. The Mogadorian rears back his hand for the final strike and killing blow. The sword dives to the boys chest, his breath quickens but that's all. Even though he knows it's already over, he still believes some part of him will make it home, that he will unite and rejoin his fallen kin and kind.
And with one last pulse from the pendant, it's over.
Author's Note: Please tell me your thoughts – I hope it wasn't too hard to follow. The book won't be written in a Third POV – just this chapter. I'm really good with constructive criticism and please review/follow/favourite! Please tell me pairings and other things you might want to see. Also tell me who you think the other boys and girls were that the Third POV talked about. :D
Welcome to I Am Number Five!
Paragon 8
