A heavy atmosphere of mourning hung like an inescapable cloud over the village of Arlia on this night. The village was dark and silent, almost eerily so. Every man and woman in the village had a heavy heart on this night, but none more prominently than one child. This child was within the warm interior of the mayor's home. The warmth didn't reach his shivering skin. Within a guest room of the mayor's house, a blue-haired youth laid upon a single bed therein, face down. The door was closed, but carelessly left unlocked. His choked sobs were muffled by the matress of which his face was buried. His tear-stricken face was a soft red from the lengthy duration that his weeping had lasted thus far. His hands firmly gripped the sheets upon the bed, as though they would ease the pain in his heart; as though they would hold him in return and tell him everything would be all right.
However, this boy knew in the back of his mind that he would never again have anyone to tell him that everything would be all right. His family had been murdered on this day, and only he had managed to survive. He missed his father; his loving strength had always been both admirable and easy to love in return. He missed his mother; her kind nature and loving smile was an inspiration and always comforting. He missed his sister; her youthful innocence and unmasked love were always able to bring a smile to his face. How could he live without them? Could he really continue on with so much pain in his heart? He did not know the answers to these questions. All that mattered was that they were gone, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to change things.
"Mother...father...Ciscille..." The boy managed to murmer through his sobs.
His heart seemed to wrench in his chest at the very mention of the family he had long such a short time ago. His mind wandered back to that time again and again, replaying as a constant memory. He couldn't do anything. Or could he? He had been unable to do anything for the people that he cared for the most when they needed him the most. He had been too weak. He almost wished that the bandits had managed to kill him as well. Then at least he wouldn't have to live with this pain, this guilt...and he would be able to be with his family. But he had been too weak. That was what everything continued to come back to. His family's only hope had been himself...and he had failed them due to his own weakness.
If only he had the power to protect them...then perhaps things would have been different. Perhaps he could have saved them. But he didn't have the power. He was merely a weak little boy. If only he had been more...things could have been different! If only! He hadn't been able to save his family...the most important people in the world to him...but if he were strong...
If he were strong, he could protect them. He could defeat those scum that take pleasure in murder. He could defeat those that take pleasure in killing those weaker than themselves. He could defeat those cowardly bastards who stole his family's lives. Strength...that was what he needed. Nothing else could protect him from being so hurt once again...only strength. His tears slowly died down, and he found himself physically and emotionally exhausted. With a shudder, the boy, Dias Flac, closed his eyes, quickly drifting into a troubled slumber.
The next morning at dawn, Dias emerged from the his old house, a sword at his side. He slowly walked to the entrance of the village, slowing to a stop at the small gate. He turned, casting his home village of Arlia a glance out of his cold, dull blue eyes. No one knew of his departure...and he felt it better that way. He didn't want to see anyone's reaction to it, especially Rena's. He had seen and felt enough pain for the time being. He needed to redeem himself to his family...to show them that he could grow strong enough to protect them. To make them proud. Also, he needed to reassure himself that he would be strong enough to never again have someone he cared about snatched away. However, he wasn't naive enough to believe that anyone in the village would be able to truly understand him. They would try to chide him back into staying. Dias knew, however, that staying would do nothing for him or his family. Dias pondered on whether or not he would ever return...and he found that he had no answer.
"...Goodbye," Dias uttered his farewell to his home, turning and slowly trudging forward to his destiny.
Author's notes: I just had a whim tonight, and decided to write this out of nowhere. I'm not sure how good or bad it is, but I gave it a shot. Also, I'm really not sure if I spelled Ciscille right...so if you know if I spelled it right or wrong, please let me know! Please leave a review if you have time. Also, if you have time, tell me if you think that I should begin a Star Ocean progressive fic with the center around normal-aged Dias. Thanks!