Rage...pure, unyielding rage was their fate.
They had killed his people...all of them, save a meager few. Why? For their farmland. They had been slaughtered: the young and the old, the women and the children...everyone. He had come home from a long journey to make peace with these humans, and this was what he received in return!?
Even now, they laughed at him from beneath. There he was, a mere boy on a ledge against an army of two or three thousand in the valley below. And he intended to battle them?
Oh, but he did. He did for the unbearable pain his people had taken. He did for the children screaming in agony at the ruthless blades of these...disgusting men. He did for the babies that had tasted but a few sweet months of life and lost it in bloody chaos. He did for his beloved parents, who had but a few moments ago given their lives for him. The boy, captivated by anger, could think of nothing more proper than revenge. He would not let them escape from justice. How could they do such a thing to him and his people for such an unworthy, selfish cause!? They will pay...now.
All this, and they still mocked him...even after brutally robbing him of everything, everyone he ever loved. Now, the boy understood what amorality was. He understood...and was enraged. Their laughter stopped when a beam emanated from his hands and filled the sky. The dark clouds flashed, as if it was thundering, but these flashes were red, brilliant red. The entire area had become immensely darker, the only light source the blazing sky.
As the boy lifted his hands, his eyes screaming with rage, the army looked up at the sky again, and saw the energy focus into a spiral directly above them. They then realized what the energy above them was...fire. Horrified, they also realized their fate.
At last, the boy brought his hands down powerfully. The men could only stare in absolute terror as the fire came crashing down upon them. It struck the ground with great force, and their wicked bodies were engulfed by white-hot energy. Their horrific, tormented shrieks could be heard for miles as they finally suffered the relentless justice they had deserved for so long. After but a few seconds, it was over.
The boy stood for a moment, panting. Was it really over? He looked below him, and saw a once lush valley now only smoldering with ashes and blackened earth. He stood for a moment, dazed by what he had done. Then, he collapsed. He couldn't help but cry...he, the peaceful, compassionate child, had just mercilessly obliterated an army. Not only that, but everyone he cared for was gone. Despite constantly reminding himself what they had done and who they were, his heart felt a great heaviness, especially after causing thousands to die in flames. Perhaps vengeance wasn't the answer. It calmed his fury, but that was the only thing that restrained his full sadness. And now, after taking so much life, his sorrow, even in its wholeness, multiplied. The boy, who had never experienced anywhere near such powerful emotion, was overwhelmed. Everyone was dead, dead! They were taken by these horrible men. And how did he respond? By doing the same thing they did! Was he so blinded by his anger that he missed that revenge would only worsen everything? Then again, he was only ten years of age...but immaturity isn't an excuse for taking the lives of two thousand men! These thoughts were racing through his mind, and his heart was in shambles.
Finally, he got up, finished with his tears and confusion, for he made a decision. Never again would he return to his people, for he was too ashamed...and sad. Walking back down the ledge, he did not know where he would go. He only knew that he had to leave what was left of his people. After regretfully looking back in the direction of his former home, he turned and headed off in the opposite direction.
He never once looked back.
They had killed his people...all of them, save a meager few. Why? For their farmland. They had been slaughtered: the young and the old, the women and the children...everyone. He had come home from a long journey to make peace with these humans, and this was what he received in return!?
Even now, they laughed at him from beneath. There he was, a mere boy on a ledge against an army of two or three thousand in the valley below. And he intended to battle them?
Oh, but he did. He did for the unbearable pain his people had taken. He did for the children screaming in agony at the ruthless blades of these...disgusting men. He did for the babies that had tasted but a few sweet months of life and lost it in bloody chaos. He did for his beloved parents, who had but a few moments ago given their lives for him. The boy, captivated by anger, could think of nothing more proper than revenge. He would not let them escape from justice. How could they do such a thing to him and his people for such an unworthy, selfish cause!? They will pay...now.
All this, and they still mocked him...even after brutally robbing him of everything, everyone he ever loved. Now, the boy understood what amorality was. He understood...and was enraged. Their laughter stopped when a beam emanated from his hands and filled the sky. The dark clouds flashed, as if it was thundering, but these flashes were red, brilliant red. The entire area had become immensely darker, the only light source the blazing sky.
As the boy lifted his hands, his eyes screaming with rage, the army looked up at the sky again, and saw the energy focus into a spiral directly above them. They then realized what the energy above them was...fire. Horrified, they also realized their fate.
At last, the boy brought his hands down powerfully. The men could only stare in absolute terror as the fire came crashing down upon them. It struck the ground with great force, and their wicked bodies were engulfed by white-hot energy. Their horrific, tormented shrieks could be heard for miles as they finally suffered the relentless justice they had deserved for so long. After but a few seconds, it was over.
The boy stood for a moment, panting. Was it really over? He looked below him, and saw a once lush valley now only smoldering with ashes and blackened earth. He stood for a moment, dazed by what he had done. Then, he collapsed. He couldn't help but cry...he, the peaceful, compassionate child, had just mercilessly obliterated an army. Not only that, but everyone he cared for was gone. Despite constantly reminding himself what they had done and who they were, his heart felt a great heaviness, especially after causing thousands to die in flames. Perhaps vengeance wasn't the answer. It calmed his fury, but that was the only thing that restrained his full sadness. And now, after taking so much life, his sorrow, even in its wholeness, multiplied. The boy, who had never experienced anywhere near such powerful emotion, was overwhelmed. Everyone was dead, dead! They were taken by these horrible men. And how did he respond? By doing the same thing they did! Was he so blinded by his anger that he missed that revenge would only worsen everything? Then again, he was only ten years of age...but immaturity isn't an excuse for taking the lives of two thousand men! These thoughts were racing through his mind, and his heart was in shambles.
Finally, he got up, finished with his tears and confusion, for he made a decision. Never again would he return to his people, for he was too ashamed...and sad. Walking back down the ledge, he did not know where he would go. He only knew that he had to leave what was left of his people. After regretfully looking back in the direction of his former home, he turned and headed off in the opposite direction.
He never once looked back.