Roots and beginnings, everything has these two things.

If I were told that beings were watching with curiosity, not knowing what you were, would you believe me?

It sounds strange, Yes. But this happened I a world like our own, but different.

As long as life has existed the 3 types of heavenly bodies we know of have existed. The ones that glow.

The stars and moon along with the sun have seen many things, being heavenly bodies they could not interfere, only observe. The passing of the Elves, the crossing of Man along with the coming of the Demons.

And the beginning of the Owls.

On the night of August 23 In the Year 756 Of the 17th Age 2 Owls fought above a blaze of inferno.

One swooping to down the other with one fell move.

The other wanted none of this, he did not even try to fight back.

The Moon could only watch as the eldest one was consumed by the greed of the flames.

That Owl was Kludd, the Other Soren.

Kludd by his own fault pushed himself into the fire.

"No…"

Soren stared into the abyss, the smoke licking at his feathers.

He was in shock. He had killed his own brother. His family.

Blood dripped down from where he was perched, Kludd in his efforts had hurt Soren badly. Pain swept through his wings and torso.

Soren broke down into tears, he wept.

His eyes stung of the smoke.

He wept for his brother, his family, the ones who were alive and dead, his friends.

Salty tears flowed down his white face.

The fire roared, threatening to eat him as well.

Smoke filled his lungs, the oxygen being whisked away. His vision was growing dark.

It was then far in the horizon where wings could be seen.

Soren tried to call out, but he could not say anything. He was too weak.

His vision faded from him along with his surroundings.

His final thought was one of a question.

With death will everything sad end along with him?

Then Black.

Kludd awoke to the flames of Hell. All around him the inferno laughed at him, mocking him. Making fun of his weaknesses.

He out of his rage tried to kill his brother. Or at least he wanted to drag Soren into the fire with him. But that was not to be.

"Get Up!" He told himself.

The fire was blazing hot, he could feel the smoke curling his feathers, but he could not move, what good would it do him anyway?

He couldn't just run like an idiot into the fire.

Why him?!

He looked at his now shattered wing, bleeding from inside.

We winced in pain, staring at his wing like it was an ugly weed in a green field.

If he lived through this he promised that Soren will be begging for the sweet release of death.

If...

If he died here will death end his suffering on this miserable earth?

Oliver awoke to feel his lungs burning with no way to relieve them. His Iron helmet did not help.

He had enough strength to wiggle his mask off allowing more air to pass. He hacked and coughed, his body trying to clear them.

He hated them! He hated the Guardians! They killed him!

He felt the world crushing down on him. He felt like he was drowning, pain shooting in his body. All of his mistakes now being punished.

He wanted to cry.

He was not even full grown!

He did not want to die like this!

He was too young!

"Quit acting like a child!" his brain told himself.

Out in the distance bird-like shadows came closer and closer to him, his vision was fading to black.

"Help me...Please" he rasped.

He then closed his eyes.

Then nothing.