Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated FandomBookahalic. I love you! Happy Birthday!
It has been five years since the little boy received the whipping in the kitchen. He has grown stronger and makes no more mistakes. He has exceeded even Shadowhunter standards, even at his young age.
Today is his Tenth birthday, but he does not know it. He, of course, knows the date of his birth but is not permitted to know the date. He knows that it is fall. The leaves on the trees are just beginning to turn colors and fall.
He sits by himself on the hill in the man's backyard, awaiting his arrival. Training was to start in an hour but, as usual, the little boy was early. It was the only time he was allowed to be outside.
The boy sits and stares out at the trees and weaves his fingers through the tall grass. The boy watches as a bunny hops joyfully through the trees, oblivious that it is being watched.
"Blaise!"
The sound of his name pulls him out of his trance. He scrambles up from his seat and stands as he did that day five years ago. The boy has grown several inches taller, tall for his age. He seems to look more and more like his father everyday. Same lean build, same sharp features, the softness of childhood gone. The only difference are his bright blue eyes. His white-blonde hair is longer now, reaching to his chin.
The man studies him closely with a frown and speaks. "Today we will practice hand to hand combat. You will do what I say exactly as I say it or you will be punished. Understand?"
Blaise nods his head. They begin without another word.
Four Hours Later
The sun has just begun to set behind the trees by the time they stop. Blaise heads imediatly towards his cell but is stoped by the man. "Your training is not over today, boy," The man says. "You are to recieve your first rune today." The boy knows that he was to turn ten in the last month or so, but it is still a year early for any shadowhunter to receive a rune. But he is stronger thant any other Nephilim.
He nods his head again. He is a boy of very few words. He learned very young that it is better to keep quite, lest he be punished. He moves to the kitchen and sits in the same chair he sat in when the man bandaged his wounds five years ago. He holds out his left hand, already knowing what rune is to come first. The sight rune.
The man pulls out a stele and presses it to his skin, drawing the eye-like symbol on his hand. Blaise barely feels the sting of the stele and goes to his cell as soon as it is done. He does not want to spend anymore time with the man than he has to.
But as he sits in his cell, he remembers a day five years ago. The day of his last beating. He thought he heard the man talking to him while he was sleeping. It had sounded alot like he told him "good luck."
Blaise shakes his head and lays down on his cot. He thinks once again about what his life would be if they had just given him to his Aunt and Uncle. He wishes every day that he grew up with his Aunt Clary and his cousins. He knew that Clary had two kids; one girl, one boy. Alice and Jacob.
Blaise clears his head and closes his eyes to sleep. Within minutes he is out. He falls into a dreamless sleep.